#the drugs but also that haircut :P

[booasaur]

From (2022) - 2x05

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[sundered-souls]

Inge Sjasaris

B A S I C S

Name: Inge Sjasaris (pre-EW), Inge Grymkoelwyn (post-EW)

Nicknames: none

Age: In her sixties

Nameday: 5th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon

Race: Viera

Gender: Loaded question given that I've never bothered posting about her tribe, but long story short: she's fine with being called a woman. In our modern western ways, she'd be more akin to genderqueer. In her people's way, it's hard to translate so she never bothers. Honestly any pronoun is technically fine by her, it'll never be completely right anyway.

Orientation: Whatever, but more female leaning overall.

Profession: Mercenary, alchemist

P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C  T S

Hair: I've yet to find a satisfying mod for what I have in mind but curly and mid-long, black, badly cut 'cause she tends to do it herself whenever the length annoys her too much. Rarely tied though, she doesn't like the feeling (hence the terrible haircuts)

Eyes: Grey

Skin: Dark brown, with some freckles

Tattoos/scars: A tattoo left by Louisoix's spell between her shoulder blades. Many scars scattered on her body, most faded though and none too remarkable.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Both alive, never named them x)

Siblings: Two unnamed sisters and one brother, which she doesn't know is a brother because she left before he hit puberty. He's called Solrunn and is played by @inah-ffxiv (who also plays her wife)

Grandparents: I didn't flesh out the family tree so far so.... no idea

In-laws and Other: She's married to Yersinia Bordetella (which isn't her real name if you wonder after reading Inge's family name above) Also in a relationship with Y'shtola.

Pets: None

S K I L L S

Abilities: The notable ones would be magic enhancing/debuffing (and healing but if you don't get hit, it's even better), war surgery, alchemy (mostly potions), botany and bow hunting. She can hear the Elementals too

Hobbies: Reading smut and romance. That's about it, she loves her job as an adventurer and doesn't take much time off.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Steadfast and kind

Most Negative Trait: emotionally constipated and prone to reproach people their recklessness before doing the exact same fucking thing five minutes later (But it's different because she knows what she's doing™)

L I K E S

Colors: she loves bright colors in general but mostly wears neutral/earthly colors herself (as to not make a target of herself). Doesn't have a clear favorite

Smells: damp soil, forests, quite a lot alchemical agents, tea, campfires

Textures: Leather, smooth polished wood, soft wool

Drinks: Tea, tea and more tea

O T H E R    D E T A I L S

Smokes: Recreationally. Did you know the Twelve will approve of your union even if you're too high to remember the entire day? Should you get lucky enough to meet them, they'll even mention it /shudders

Drinks: Tea and water. Occasionally maybe some fruit juice. Never any alcohol, it makes her sick

Drugs: Nothing other than what I mentioned above

Mount Issuance: Inge's actually in the Twin Adder and got her chocobo through them. The bird doesn't have an actual name, she whistles to call it/give it orders and mostly uses it as a beast of burden rather than a mount. Her yol is in the care of the Mols. She didn't want to take it away from its natural environment, but she visits sometimes.

Been Arrested: Never. To say that she's always a law-abiding citizen might be pushing it though...

Tagged by: @lilbittymonster (ty!) Tagging @inah-ffxiv @adrayellinaeth @archaiclumina @hakai-zonapher @feathersage @wpip-raham @the-crimson-rose @sharlayanscion @ooc-miqojak (so you can pick which character you want to do it with) @punchelf @chadhunkler @clockworkdimensions @gatheredfates @corsair-kovacs @heavensw4rd

I went through my followers list and I have more characters so feel free to ignore if you're not interested and I'll tag more people when I do it with the rest of the cast!

[gynandromorph]

jessie's... indestructible body with no metabolism raises many questions, like, can she get a haircut? my conclusion was, no, her hair must be indestructible, or it would all burn off in an explosion or fire. but since her hair is indestructible, it would never grow, because hair grows via cell death. she wouldn't create waste because she isn't absorbing anything (things she eats are destroyed in a manner similar to being pulled into a black hole imo) and she wouldn't be able to be poisoned (you could serve her a poisoned drink and she probably wouldn't notice) which also means she wouldn't be affected by drugs. does her body still produce pheromones and scent secretions? if it isn't a waste product but specifically constructed, i don't see MUCH reason why it shouldn't, in the same way that her mouth still produces saliva and her. well. her still. her p. it still. w

[what-if-i-just-did]

Guilt & Revenge: Sleep Deprivation

Whumptober, Day 8: Sleep Deprivation

Guilt & Revenge Masterlist

This took way too long to write, oof. Also again Amber is technically a minor here but it doesn't come up in the story. Hope ya'll enjoy and lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!

TWs: Sleep deprivation, forced IV, being tied up & left, extreme hunger, captivity, and mentions of past sensory deprivation & hallucinations, forced haircut, seasickness, and being deadnamed

Amber watched as they left again, screaming and cursing, ignoring the slight bit of anxiety. How long would they leave him this time?

He wanted to struggle against his restraints, but he didn’t in fear of damaging the IV and ripping a hole in his veins. Fuck knew how long it would take someone to find him. He had to be smart about this, even if he was pissed.

Mercedes and Paul had come in and removed the blindfold and muzzle, and then held down his arm while inserting an IV into his bloodstream. He didn’t know what was in it, just that it was a brown liquid. They made a sarcastic-sounding comment along the lines of “sleep well”, and for a while he was terrified that they’d drugged him with something that would make him pass out. They kept calling him Dom, too. He was so not coming out to them, although it was odd and unpleasant being deadnamed again.

After waiting a few minutes, he realized it seemed to be doing the opposite. He felt more awake. What the hell had they given him? He wasn’t that hungry anymore. That was… something, he supposed. It wasn’t good. Nothing about this situation was good.

Hours passed monotonously. From the second the blindfold was removed, he stopped hearing things, except the clock. He’d managed to crane his head up at some point to confirm there was actually a clock on the wall outside the cell, and he wasn’t just randomly only hallucinating clock ticking. He decided right there that he hated the thing. The endless ticking, constant repeating of the same damn sound every goddamn second was driving him fucking insane. 

The bed was attached to the wall on hinges, and hooks on the wall suggested it could be neatly folded away. He couldn’t see them, but he could feel that, on the side of the bed not attached to the wall, there were two legs. Amber assumed they were foldable as well. The problem was that being attached to the wall in this way, was that the sway of the boat was fucking horrible. The lack of puke was still surprising. His legs felt numb.

After what had to have been multiple hours, his internal clock suggested it was time to sleep. And yet, when he closed his eyes, he couldn’t. It was too uncomfortable. He tried gently shifting, but gave up when it pulled at the IV in his arm. Surprisingly, the drip was actually still going.

Hours later and he still hadn’t slept. The hell? He wanted to go to sleep, he’d tried, but his body just… didn’t let him. What the hell was in the IV?

It was probably less than two days later when they came back. He hadn’t slept at all. They taunted him. He insulted them. They smacked him straight across the face. He kept going. So did they. Then Paul diffused the situation and got them ‘back on track’.

Amber tried to fight as they took him off of the bed and tied him to a chair he hadn’t previously noticed in the middle of the room, but it didn’t help. They taunted him and shaved his head, which honestly made him cry. He closed his eyes as his curls fell, and made a decision right then. He’d get back at them for this. For everything.

He tried to fight when they put him back on the bed, but all it earned him was a few blows to the stomach. He did learn what they were pumping through his veins… it was caffeine. They’d refreshed it, too. Fuck.

After they left, things went back to being boring. He squirmed a bit on the uncomfortable mattress, but he couldn’t move that much anyways. He was exhausted. It was at least a day since he’d slept. Maybe more.

Hours passed. Seconds passed. Maybe days passed. Minutes passed. 

Amber tried counting the seconds along with the clock, he made it to two minutes and thirty something seconds before losing count and rage quitting. He tried daydreaming, like he had when he couldn’t see, but it was different this time. The stark reality of his situation kept pressing to the forefront of his mind. He was cold. And tied up. And hungry. And in pain.

After some indeterminable amount of time, he tried counting the seconds again, more determined. He failed a few times, but eventually he got to nineteen minutes before he decided it was a pointless exercise. He could barely think, anyways. He needed sleep. 

It had definitely been two days. Maybe three? How long had it been between them taking off the blindfold and shaving off his hair? He was exhausted. He was bored. He could feel the caffeine in his veins keeping him awake. He wanted food. He wanted the goddamn IV out so he could sleep. He wanted the bed he was tied down to to at least be comfortable. He wanted the clock to stop ticking- but he also didn’t. It was keeping him sane, a little. As much as he resented it.

He wished he could roll over. His muscles ached. He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He closed them. He didn’t wanna stare at the ceiling. He’d already stared at it enough to see constellations and faces in the paint. He wanted to cry. He wanted to sleep.

Please, fuck, he wanted to sleep.

How long had it been? Two days, three? More? He hadn’t eaten since they brought him here, if not longer. How long did they leave him with the blindfold?

He wanted to sleep.

[mariacallous]

Many times a year, as if on a hidden schedule, some tech person, often venture-capital-adjacent, types out a thought on social media like “The only thing liberal arts majors are good for is scrubbing floors while I punch them” and hits Send. Then the poetry people respond—often a little late, in need of haircuts—with earnest arguments about the value of art.

I am an English major to death. (You know us not by what we’ve read but by what we are ashamed not to have read.) But I learned years ago that there’s no benefit in joining this debate. It never resolves. The scientist-novelist C. P. Snow went after the subject in 1959 in a lecture called “The Two Cultures,” in which he criticized British society for favoring Shakespeare over Newton. Snow gets cited a lot. I have always found him unreadable, which, yes, embarrasses me but also makes me wonder whether perhaps the humanities had a point.

By the time I went to college, in the mixtape days, the Two Cultures debate had migrated to corkboards. In the liberal arts building, people tacked up pro-humanities essays they had snipped out of magazines. A hot Saturday night for me was to go and read them. Other people were trying drugs. I found the essays perplexing. I got the gist, but why would one need to defend something as urgent and essential as the humanities? Then again, across the street in the engineering building, I remember seeing bathroom graffiti that read “The value of a liberal arts degree,” with an arrow pointing to the toilet paper. I was in the engineering building because they had Silicon Graphics workstations.

Wandering between these worlds, I began to realize I was that most horrifying of things: interdisciplinary. At a time when computers were still sequestered in labs, the idea that an English major should learn to code was seen as wasteful, bordering on abusive—like teaching a monkey to smoke. How could one construct programs when one was supposed to be deconstructing texts? Yet my heart told me: All disciplines are one! We should all be in the same giant building. Advisers counseled me to keep this exceptionally quiet. Choose a major, they said. Minor in something odd if you must. But why were we even here, then? Weren’t we all—ceramic engineers and women’s studies alike—rowing together into the noosphere? No, I was told. We are not. Go to your work-study job calling alumni for donations.

So I got my degree, and off I went to live an interdisciplinary life at the intersection of liberal arts and technology, and I’m still at it, just as the people trashing the humanities are at it too. But I have come to understand my advisers. They were right to warn me off.

Because humans are primates and disciplines are our territories. A programmer sneers at the white space in Python, a sociologist rolls their eyes at a geographer, a physicist stares at the ceiling while an undergraduate, high off internet forums, explains that Buddhism anticipated quantum theory. They, we, are patrolling the borders, deciding what belongs inside, what does not. And this same battle of the disciplines, everlasting, ongoing, eternal, and exhausting, defines the internet. Is blogging journalism? Is fan fiction “real” writing? Can video games be art? (The answer is always: Of course, but not always. No one cares for that answer.)

When stuff gets out of hand, we don’t open disciplinary borders. We craft new disciplines: digital humanities, human geography, and yes, computer science (note that “science” glued to the end, to differentiate it from mere “engineering”). In time, these great new territories get their own boundaries, their own defenders. The interdisciplinarian is essentially an exile. Someone who respects no borders enjoys no citizenship.

You could argue that for all the talk of the university as an “intellectual commons,” it is actually an institution intended to preserve a kind of permanent détente between the disciplines—a place where you can bring French literature professors together with metallurgists and bind them with salaries so that they might not kill each other. The quad as intellectual DMZ. But those bonds are breaking down. Universities are casting disciplines to the wind. Whole departments are shuttering. The snazzy natatorium stays open, French literature goes away. And then the VC types get on Twitter, or X, or whatever, to tell us that poetry is useless. The losses are real.

And so what, really? Well, what I mourn is not a particular program at a college I never visited but the sense of institutions being in balance. I’ve spent most of my life wanting desperately for institutions to be disrupted, and now I find myself entering the second half of my existence (if I’m lucky) absolutely craving that stability. The delicate détente is vanishing, that sense of having options. A shorter course catalog is an absolute sign of a society in decline.

But also, we’re cutting off the very future that the tech industry promises us is coming. If the current narrative holds—if AI is victorious—well, liberal arts types will be ascendant. Because rather than having to learn abstruse, ancient systems of rules and syntaxes (mathematical notation, C++, Perl) in order to think higher thoughts, we will be engaged with our infinitely patient AI tutors/servants like Greek princelings, prompting them to write code for us, make spreadsheets for us, perform first-order analysis of rigid structures for us, craft Horn clauses for us.

I see what you nerds have done with AI image-creation software so far. Look at Midjourney’s “Best of” page. If you don’t know a lot about art but you know what you like, and what you like is large-breasted elf maidens, you are entering the best possible future. You might think, Hey, that’s what the market demands. But humans get bored with everything. We’re just about done with Ant-Man movies.

The winners will be the ones who can get the computer to move things along the most quickly, generate the new fashions and fads, turn that into money, and go to the next thing. If the computers are capable of understanding us, and will do our bidding, and enable us to be more creative, then the people in our fields—yes, maybe even the poets—will have an edge. Don’t blame us. You made the bots.

Perhaps this is why they lash out, so strangely—a fear of the grip slipping, the sense that all the abstruse and arcane knowledge gathered about large language models, neural nets, blockchains, and markets might be erased. Will be erased. At least art goes for the long game, you know? Poems are many things, and often lousy, but they are not meant to be disposable, nor do they require a particular operating system to work.

All you have to do is look at a tree—any tree will do—to see how badly our disciplines serve us. Evolutionary theory, botany, geography, physics, hydrology, countless poems, paintings, essays, and stories—all trying to make sense of the tree. We need them all, the whole fragile, interdependent ecosystem. No one has got it right yet.

[abelladxnna]

B A S I C S.

name:⠀Katarina Belasco Kita Lovelace. age:⠀25. birthdate: june 4.⠀ species:⠀half-human, half-??????????. gender:⠀female. orientation:⠀bisexual & biromantic. profession:⠀thief.

P H Y S I C A L⠀A S P E C T S.

hair:⠀bob haircut that's naturally dark burgundy color (don't question anime logic). sported with two tufts of hair sticking out on either sides that resemble horns (and react according to her emotions). eyes:⠀golden amber irises with cat-like pupils. has a piercing, sharp gaze that may look like they're peering into your very soul. at times, they may even look like they're glowing in the dark. but surely that's just your imagination :) skin:⠀slightly tanned complexion. smooth ;) unnaturally flawless. strangely not even a scar despite her many past injuries. height: 5'8" / 172 cm ( with heels on ). her actual height is 5'5" / 166 cm.

F A M I L Y.

siblings: Moira (older sister); Carmen (younger brother)⠀ parents:⠀Sebastian (father); Eriza (mother) grandparents:⠀- any pets? partners?:⠀among her Pokemon, Prada (Liepard), Creampuff (Yamper), Zola (Litleo), and Zula (Shinx) would be considered as the pets. Nell (Gengar) and Bonnie (Aipom) are her main partners-in-crime.

S K I L L S.

Acrobatics; knife-throwing; hand-to-hand combat; skills required for thievery (pickpocketing, lockpicking, stealth, escapology, espionage, etc); vast knowledge on herbalism, toxicology, and human and Pokemon physiology and anatomy; spiritual awareness & telepathy; multi-lingual (Japanese, English, French, Spanish); singing.

T R A I T S.

—— positive ——

cheery, flirty, sassy, fearless, outspoken, curious, confident, understanding, protective.

—— negative ——

mischievous, reckless, petty, impulsive, deceptive, secretive, hypocritical, self-destructive, prone to violence.

L I K E S.

colors:⠀purple, black. smells:⠀flowers (especially lavender), baked goods, wet grass. textures:⠀smooth, silky sheets and fabric. and the softness of animal/Pokemon fur (when she pets or cuddles with them, not as clothing!!), wool sweaters drinks:⠀any warm beverage. is partial to milk tea. flavors:⠀S W E E T. (favorite kind of sweet flavor is honey)

O T H E R⠀D E T A I L S.

smokes?:⠀no. although she may to blend in certain circumstances. drinks?: yes. her go-tos are cosmopolitan and sex on a beach. drugs: no. got no time for that. reacts differently to them anyway. driver license: yes... technically. has a license to drive her Revavroom (though she really shouldn't). also has a motorcycle license. ever been arrested?:⠀surprisingly no. (Kita vc: what do you mean "surprisingly"? I'm just that good.)

[daddyd0nt]

Realizing now that my weird attraction to gross characters is my inability to tell “well written/acted” characters/admiration for an artist or autistic interest in a pop culture figure like an artist or criminal to wanting to be important to them through marriage and therefor as I grew older sex which was the only way I was raised to believe a woman could be important. When I was very little I said I wanted to marry RL Stein, Rod Sterling, and Sergei Prokofiev (I absolutely said his name wrong but idr how I said it) without ever having seen a picture of 2/3 and thinking Rod Sterling looked kind of like a Disney Prince because of his haircut and liking his show like turns out I just like art and things that make me feel intensely especially things that make me feel afraid in a safe way because I have adhd to the point where I literally cannot function and am a disastrous dopamine seeker which I satiate with high octane media, marijuana, and carefully monitored but somewhat heavy adderall use but it keeps me from doing high risk behaviors and shit like self mutilating or b/p-ing out of under-stimulation or taking hard drugs (not that I don’t consider adderall hard I don’t think it or benzos should be given to anybody under 21) and allows me to beat my depression enough to do a few basic household tasks and even read a bit which like honestly is a miracle and I actually am enough of an adult now to be moderate about it and only use it a few days a week (at 19-23 I was taking every single one I was prescribed down to the day the way I was taking benzos up until recently and I was on 3x the dose back then) and like I’m confident that it’s not damaging anything because my dr orders a lot of testing and I also go to the hospital once or twice a year on average where I get a full heart thing (forgot what it’s called but the thing with the stickers) and blood work, never for more than like a week or two and sometimes I don’t go for years at a time but this is the worst year I’ve had since before the pandemic I went 3 times and also did a round in partial which I don’t really remember due to being snow on haldol but people not taking responsibility for their mental health is how most antisocial crimes (not drug/property crime but actual immoral shit like columbine or the ucsb shooting) happen and I’m honest with my therapist about what’s going on in my head even if it means I have to go under observation for a while until the episode passes and people feel safe with me being a member of the public again as minimally as I do/can participate like I’d rather deal with a week or two out of the year in the hospital than people in a dangerous state be not treated like a medical emergency that requires observation and rest at the very least and possibly medication which needs to be monitored closely especially in cases where high doses are used so that mentally ill people don’t wind up sentenced to a life of slave labor in the prison system or dead or hurting somebody else if you want people who are mentally ill to the point that they can’t participate in normal society or in a condition where they feel that they are not in control of themselves and at risk for making a bad potentially permanent choice to feel safe calling attention to and addressing their medical emergency and that means not only not throwing them into poverty/prison and giving them access to therapy and medication but funding hospitals and making them as pleasant and dignified as humanly possible so that you don’t feel like you are being punished for being sick if you are sick enough to have to spend time there this is a novel of a rant and I don’t think anybody will read it but I kind of just wanted to say it

[quercussp]

Borderline

Rating: E

Word count: 3.7k

Summary:

Dan and Phil Rize Show (August 14th 2018):

D: It’s just because he’s used to having dozens of people having massive gangbangs and doing drugs, while we’re like, let’s play Mario Kart…

P: Speaking of, not gangbangs, but drugs, we went through the border into Canada on a bus…

D: Right, that’s going to be used out of context.

[…]

D: There was a guy from Canada, who was called Chan and he was our border agent.

P: Yeah, Dan loved Chan.

Authors note:

Happy Holidays @judearaya! I hope you like it <3

Written for the prompt: "I'd love something related to Dan's adorable reaction to Chan the customs and border protection officer that Dan and Phil talked about on Rize during II. Any heat level is fine by me, just pls no threesomes or cheating etc."

A gigantic thank you to my betas @templeofshame and @alittledizzy for encouragement and help. You both are absolutely wonderful.

Warnings: graphic sex, mentions of jealousy, teasing mentions of sex outside of the relationship (no actual sex with anyone else)

[read on ao3]

Being shaken awake at 2 am by a grumpy and sleepy Marianne was not a great way to start the morning. Or end the day? Does 2 am even count as morning? Being forced to exit the bus in their pajamas for the border patrol to inspect it in the middle of the night was even less appealing.

From his bunk, Phil could hear Marianne trying to persuade Dan to wake up and the characteristic moaning of “i don’t want to get upppp” that he has heard many times over the years. This tour had really taken a toll on both of them, and being awakened in the middle of the night, cutting the already short sleep time they had was no less than torture.

Phil searched around for his glasses in the dim light of the bus and found them somewhere under his pillow. He slid out of his bunk, put his feet halfway into his trainers, and pulled on a hoodie that was hanging in the kitchen. He stumbled out of the bus to join Martyn and the rest of the crew, all looking as sleepy and tired as he felt.

Dan was the last out of the bus and if Phil weren’t so exhausted, he would probably laugh at Dan’s appearance. His hair was sticking in every direction, he was wearing a pair of boxers, a wrinkled black t-shirt and some fluffy slippers, clutching to his pillow. He waddled off the bus and over to Phil, tripping in the process and grumbling something under his breath about “fucking shit fuck”.

Marianne was talking with one of the border officers, a middle aged lady with a surprisingly geometric haircut and an unsurprisingly tired face. She was flipping through their passports, comparing the photos with the group of people standing huddled outside of the bus and asking Marianne about the details of their trip. Even if he wanted to, Phil could not find the energy to keep track of their conversation. Marianne would deal with it. It’s her job, after all.

Just as the lady was preparing to take their passports inside her booth to get them stamped, another officer walked out and headed towards the group. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a Hollywood face. He was politely smiling at them as he walked towards the bus.

Phil heard an audible gasp next to him and felt a twinge of amusement mixed with annoyance. The man was definitely what he called “Dan’s type”.

“Hello, my name is Chan and I will be conducting a search of your vehicle today.” Of course Chan had a perfectly lovely Canadian accent, a lovely deep voice that came out of his absolutely perfect lips and an annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Chan! Like Dan but with no D… I mean, Dan name… my name, hah..” Dan replied trailing off and letting out a nervous giggle, all while trying to run his fingers through his hair as though to tame them, but accidentally dropping the pillow he was holding in the process.

Phil was not a jealous man. After being together for so long he never actually felt threatened by anyone. Dan was his and he was Dan’s, and that was something that was out of question. And he was not prone to irrational bouts of jealousy like Dan.

So usually when Dan tried to impress someone incredibly attractive, Phil just chuckled . Like the couple times Dan hung out with “the cool YouTubers,” he would make “edgy” jokes and toss his hair and blush adorably when someone said “Cool t-shirt, bro,” but he’d pretend to be totally cool about it. Honestly, Dan was adorable in his awkwardness and his stuttering and nervous laugh in the face of an attractive man would remind Phil of their first couple conversations, back before Dan felt safe enough to be himself with Phil, before Phil had the privilege of seeing Dan unafraid of being judged.

But sometimes, Dan’s fawning over people made Phil sincerely irritated. And it’s not what you’re thinking, it didn’t make him dream of having abs or being a “cool” person. It was just that this version of Dan, this fawny, joking, too cool for school type of Dan felt… like a stranger. And that stranger apparently didn’t think Phil was important enough to pay attention to him.

So Phil felt justified in rolling his eyes at Dan’s reaction to Chan, as Dan was currently trying to pick up the fallen pillow off of the ground while simultaneously pulling the hem of his shirt down to hide his boxers. He also accidentally let out a louder snort than he intended, making the entire group momentarily glance at him, and earning him a very dirty look from Dan.

Shut up said Dan’s eyes, and Phil could see the blush crawling onto Dan’s cheeks.

Chan politely chuckled at Dan’s stuttering, which made Dan get even redder.

“Now,” Chan continued, his expression turning serious. “Before I start the search, please let me know if you have anything illegal in your bus. If you have any drugs on board, please tell me right now.”

For some reason, when Chan was saying the last bit, everyone’s head turned to Phil, as though he was suddenly going to start unpacking bags of heroin from his pajama pockets.

“Why are you looking at me?” Phil said nervously, which turned out to be an incredibly stupid idea, as that seemed to only confirm to Chan that Phil was a drug mule or something.

“I promise I won’t be mad, just tell me if you have any drugs with you.” Chan was now talking directly to Phil.

Before Phil could reply (and probably say something even more stupid), Dan came to his rescue.

“We don’t do drugs, officer. I mean, sir. I mean, Chan.” Dan had managed to pass his pillow to a confused looking Martyn and looked way more awake than 5 minutes ago, his voice now clear (and flirty). “But you’re welcome to search us if you would like.”

Oh my God, Dan. Phil shot him a disgusted look. He kind of wished someone was recording this interaction, as he could probably use it to blackmail Dan into taking out the trash for years.

However, Chan apparently didn’t think that Dan’s line was as horrific as Phil thought, as he glanced at Dan with a smile, eyes traveling up and down his body and his (very much naked) legs, and replied teasingly, “Oh, I definitely will.”

Phil felt another spike of annoyance. Maybe it was the secondhand embarrassment. Or maybe the reason Phil was annoyed was because Dan looked like he just rolled out of bed (which he did), he was sleepy and rumpled looking, and that version of Dan was only for Phil to see. They all could get the polished, designer-clothing-wearing Dan, but Phil was the one who was supposed to see the little crusties in Dan’s eyes and traces of drool on his lips. That was for his eyes only.

Chan shifted his attention back to Phil, for some reason, and continued: “Do you have any firearms? And explosives? Toxic substances? Alcohol or marihuanna?”

At this point, Phil could hear Martyn chuckling from behind him. If Phil was less sleepy and tired, he would probably laugh and make an awkward joke about having Truth Bombs on board, but this version of Phil just wanted this to be over, to go back to his bunk and hopefully persuade Dan to climb in with him so he could put his hands under that stupid t-shirt and feel the smooth skin of Dan’s side. Stupid Chan.

“No, we don’t have anything,” Phil replied, sounding more annoyed than he meant to, but Chan seemed to get the message as he nodded and walked towards the entrance to the bus .

“Can one of you come with me to take a look at the vehicle? Maybe the leader of your band?” Chan asked, looking directly at Dan.

Both Martyn and Marianne let out an audible laugh, but Dan was quick to step forward saying “Sure!”, losing one of his slippers in the process and then blushing even more deeply while strutting over to Chan.

They both stepped on to the bus at the same time, awkwardly bumping into each other and grinning.

“After you,” Dan said with an exaggerated hand motion and bow.

“Thank you!” replied Chan and climbed onto the bus first, with Dan following shortly after.

As soon as they were both gone, Martyn and Marianne exploded with laughter.

“Leader of our band, my ass.” Martyn said, stumbling over his words through his laughter, wiping tears out of his eyes with Dan’s pillow he was still holding.

“Phil, sorry, you’re the backup singer now,” Marianne added, also laughing. “Chan is awfully good looking, isn’t he?” She continued a bit quieter, raising her eyebrows at Phil.

“Maybe he’ll become our groupie,” Phil replied. He meant to say it in a joking way, but for some reason it came out darker than he wanted.

Martyn put a hand on Phil’s shoulder and gave it a firm grip.

“Here bro, you carry your man’s pillow, I’m not his maid.”

And I am? Phil wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and just grabbed the pillow out of Martyn’s hands.

He wandered off a bit to sit at a nearby bench and put the pillow in his lap, and his head in his hands. He could feel a migraine coming and he desperately needed sleep. Or maybe it was his annoyance that was making him so cross. Either way, at this particular moment Phil felt like he was just over it. The whole thing. The tour, the bus, the travel, the fans. He desperately craved his own bed, his own sheets, the smell of their laundry detergent. And his Dan. Soft and squishy. With a kind smile and big warm hands that he would comb Phil’s hair with when his head hurt.

He almost dozed off at some point, until he heard the unmistakable sound of Dan’s slightly nervous laughter. He looked up to see Dan and Chan coming off the bus, both smiling and excitedly talking about something.

Dan had apparently found the time to put on some trousers (thank God for small miracles) and was nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

Phil pulled together all the energy he had left and stood up to walk towards the group.

“Well, I have to say,” Phil heard Chan tell them, “this is the cleanest band bus I’ve ever inspected.” As Phil walked up, Chan turned to him and smiled (with his annoyingly perfect smile). “No drugs and firearms indeed”.

“I told you we’re boring nerds,” Dan replied, before Phil could even open his mouth.

“Nerds, maybe. But definitely not boring,” Chan said with what Phil could swear was a quick wink and a slight toss of his hair.

“Well, you’re all set, ladies and gentlemen. You can proceed as soon as my colleague returns with your passports. It was nice to meet you all; best of luck on your tour!”

Fuck that man and his stupid hair, Phil thought to himself. But he said, “Thank you, have a good day” instead, and started walking towards the entrance to the bus.

“It was nice meeting you, Chan!” he could hear Dan say behind him.

Phil’s head was really hurting at this point. He climbed onto the bus and made his way to the bunks, rubbing his temples. Throwing Dan’s pillow in the general direction of Dan’s bunk, he climbed into his own bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he actually passed out for a moment, because the next thing he felt was the bus jolting into movement and the rest of the crew walking around the bus and settling back into bed. After a few minutes the curtain to his bunk was pulled aside and Dan sat down at the edge of Phil’s bed.

“Phil, you ok?” he asked. His cheeks were still a bit red, and he was slightly sweaty.

“‘M fine, just tired,” Phil replied, rolling onto his side to make more room for Dan to sit.

They sat quietly for a moment, until Dan whispered: “He was so hot.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile, despite how annoyed he was. “He was? I didn’t notice, Dan. Not with you being totally chill about it and everything”. The dim light of the bus lights was enough to see Dan’s face flush with heat.

“Shut up, Phil, I wasn’t that bad… was I?” he asked after a pause, his voice slightly wavering.

“You did offer to let him search you, Dan, so…”

Dan groaned in response and hid his face in his hands. Even though a part of Phil wanted to continue to tease Dan, he could see that he was genuinely embarrassed. And teasing Dan was no fun if Dan wasn’t also having fun.

“You weren’t that bad, babe. And even if you were, he seemed to like you.” Phil rubbed a soothing hand over Dan’s back. With another groan Dan shifted to lie next to Phil on the bunk, squeezing him all the way against the wall.

“I said ‘nice arms’ when he was picking up the suitcases up,” Dan moaned as he pressed his face into Phil’s neck. “I shouldn’t be allowed to speak, Phil, he probably thought I was a total idiot.”

“He would be right, wouldn’t he?” Phil’s arm ended up around Dan’s waist, and he slid his hand under the t-shirt to feel the warmth of his side .

“Are you mad?” Dan asked uncertainly, raising his face so he could look Phil in the eyes.

“My head hurts,” Phil replied. He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he also didn’t want to admit that he was a bit annoyed. He knew most of it was just tiredness, and he would get over it soon, but Dan felt bad enough as it is.

“You should get some sleep,” Dan whispered, threading his hands through Phil’s hair. Phil couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, we both should.” Dan slowly unfolded himself from the bunk and closed the curtain behind him. Phil could hear him climbing into his own bed and shifting around just above him.

Phil fell asleep almost immediately.

***

They arrived at their hotel in the early hours of the morning. They grabbed their keycards from the reception and started dragging their suitcases to their room.

“Rehearsal in 5 hours guys, don’t forget!” Marianne called after them. 5 hours is fine. Phil could work with 5 hours.

Dan went to shower first, while Phil started unpacking. He was finished gathering the outfit he would wear today for the meet and greet just as Dan got out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his skin pink and his hair wet. He threw the towel on an armchair in the room and fell onto the bed with a satisfied moan.

“Do you think we have time for a nap?” He asked Phil, who was in the process of shedding his clothing to go shower too.

“Probably. I definitely need one, didn’t sleep much.”

“Me too,” replied Dan with a yawn. “Pass me some pants, will you?”

Phil pushed Dan’s suitcase open with his foot and pulled out a random pair of underwear. He threw it at Dan and went to shower himself.

Phil felt almost human again after a nice long soak in the shower. He came out into the room to see Dan lying comfortably on his stomach on the bed, only in his pants, scrolling through his phone. Dan’s back was arched from holding his torso up on his elbows, and Phil could see the slight movement of Dan’s muscles when he was shifting in his position. His hair had dried into thousands of small curls and the black of his Calvin Kleins brightly contrasted with his pale skin. Phil stood there watching Dan for a bit before climbing onto the bed and squeezing Dan’s butt with both hands, causing Dan to yelp and turn around.

“Keep your hands to yourself, mister,” Dan joked, pulling Phil in close and arranging their bodies so they were lying facing each other.

“Will do no such thing,” Phil replied, continuing to grope his boyfriend’s behind and nuzzling into his neck. Dan’s skin was smooth and warm, and he smelled like his shower gel and also like their apartment a little bit. Or maybe it was the apartment that smelled like Dan. Either way, running his hands over Dan’s body and breathing in his smell, Phil felt as though he was almost home. He ran his hands over Dan’s groin and felt that he was half hard. With a familiar movement, Phil grabbed him through his briefs and started slowly jerking him off.

“You’re hot,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear, giving his earlobe a little nip.

“And you’re tired,” Dan replied with a chuckle, placing little kisses over Phil’s face.

“I’m not too tired for this,” Phil whispered and firmly pressed his lips against Dan’s. Dan just laughed.

After a bit, Dan pushed himself away to pull off his underwear and rolled on top of Phil. He pressed their naked groins together and started moving his hips slightly, creating some friction. With a slight moan, Phil wrapped one of his arms around Dan’s back, and brushed the other through his hair, pulling him even closer for a kiss. They grinded lazily against each other for a couple minutes, until Dan pushed his hand between them and grabbed their lengths in a practiced motion. He started methodically moving his hand around both of them, with the exact tempo that he knew worked best for both of them. In almost no time, Phil felt himself coming with a gasp, throwing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. He felt Dan sit up, positioning himself on Phil’s hips, and Phil heard the sound of Dan wanking himself off.

“Here, let me,” Phil said, reaching towards Dan and pushing his hand out of the way. He grabbed Dan’s dick and moved his hand with the rotating motion he knew would bring Dan off the fastest. Sure enough, just a minute or two later, Dan shuddered and came over Phil’s stomach, already wet from his own cum.

Dan slid off of him and fell back onto the bed with a loud sigh. They both lay next to each other, catching their breath for a bit.

“That was fun.” Dan finally broke the silence, pressing a small kiss to Phil’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” Phil breathed out. He felt like he was soaking up the warmth of Dan’s body lying next to him. Dan was sweaty and disheveled, with his dick lying limply to his side and his entire body flushed. He looked open and vulnerable and worn out. He was also stunningly beautiful. And his. Phil was feeling warm and content, and could feel the last bits of annoyance from last night seeping out of his body, leaving him heavy and sleepy. “It’s not like we’re busy every single moment of every day.”

Dan chuckled and kissed Phil’s shoulder again. “We’re almost done. Maybe after the tour we can go crazy and like actually fuck.”

“Now don’t get any wild ideas,” Phil teased, brushing his hand through Dan’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss before lying back down and letting out a contented sigh.

Dan reached for the towel he threw off before and passed it to Phil so he could clean up. They settled under the covers, with Phil’s head lying against Dan shoulders, limbs thrown over each other, just letting their bodies stretch out and rest.

After a bit, Dan spoke out of nowhere. '”Chan said he liked our poster.”

Phil lifted up on his elbows and looked at Dan, and then barked out a laugh.

“Is that what you were thinking about while we were fucking? Chan?”

“What? No! I was just thinking of what I’m gonna wear today and he said he liked… Stop laughing!”

“Did you imagine his perfect muscles while I was jerking you off, Dan? Were you thinking of him the entire time?” Phil couldn’t stop laughing.

Dan poked Phil in the side. “Fuck you, Phil! I wasn’t…”

“Oh, you want Chan to fuck me, Dan? I didn’t know you were into that. Were you dreaming of a gangbang with Chan? Tell me Danny, is that what your most secret desire is?”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m gonna divorce you!”

Phil just continued laughing, pulling Dan close. “It’s ok, Danny, I’m not going to kinkshame you. If you want to play out a fantasy where a patrol agent strip searches you, we can do that. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Phil, actually fuck off.” Dan’s voice was pissed, but Phil could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling a bit, and his cheeks got very red.

“It’s ok, Dan, I’m not judging.” Phil pressed a kiss to the rosy patch on Dan’s cheek.

“I hate you,” said Dan, rolling away and turning his back to Phil.

Phil just slid behind Dan and draped his arm and leg over his partner, spooning him close. He was still chuckling a bit, and Dan automatically pulled Phil’s arm tighter around him and intertwined their fingers.

“We should set an alarm,” Phil said quietly, feeling like he’s about to drift off.

“Marianne will wake us,” Dan replied. He took a long pause and then said quietly, “You know I don’t want anyone else, right?”

Phil just laughed again. “Dan, don’t be an idiot.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Dan’s neck. “Just a gangbang with Chan the border patrol man.”

“At least I didn’t puke in my mouth,” Dan said teasingly, to which Phil gave him a rough poke in the side.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“Just saying,” Dan’s voice was drifting off. In a matter of minutes they were both asleep.