#lemme swipe to the member list

[fernifox]

>:( discord

#discord #tumblr #reaction meme #my ramblings #I really don’t like discords new mobile layout #lemme swipe to the member list #I used to do it unconsciously. like it’s a fidget toy for my adhd brain #and now I’ve activated swipe reply way too often

[ejunkiet]

Before the beginning.

okay so this grew into a ficlet all by itself omg, thank you for sending!!

this is the precursor to the davey/asher/babe fic, based on a comment from @dominimoonbeam about how the initial conversation between Asher and Davey might have gone... >:3

rated mature for mature themes, but no specific nsft content.

(it's a bit of fun, really)

--

Hey big guy. It's me. Can we meet?

There’s an edge to Asher’s voice that speaks to his nerves, something that David can catch even through the tinny recording in his voicemail. The message ends as soon as it had started, the prerecorded voice listing off the date and time - twenty minutes ago - as David lowers the phone, thinking over their last few interactions, trying to piece it together.

It's not as if they hadn't met up many times this week. In fact, the latest had been yesterday, at the office with Milo to discuss their latest job. An elemental gig, bigger than their usual - which was good. Word was getting around about Shaw Security, and the business was growing; good news, for the pack as well as him.

But this… the fact that Asher asked to meet means that it's personal. Pack business.

Something he'd missed?

He goes over the events of the last pack meeting as he ducks down to tug on his boots, thinking back to the interactions he’d witnessed, the dynamics between the members. It had all seemed good, which didn’t mean jackshit if they were not willing to be fully open in front of him.

Maybe this was about Christian, and the less-than-subtle ribbing he gave Ash whenever the two of them were together. He’d been hoping they’d work it out, but maybe it was time he put his foot down. Reminded him of his place.

Swiping his phone unlocked, he shoots Asher a text.

D: THE BAR ON MAIN STREET. TWENTY MINUTES.

No less than a second later, he gets Asher's reply

ASH: 👍

Mouth settling into a grim line, he grabs his jacket from the back of the sofa and shoulders it, making his way out of the apartment.

–

“It’s not pack business,” is the first thing Asher says when he sees him and reads the tension in his features, the hard set of his shoulders. There’s a lopsided smile on his face as he tilts his beer towards him - a cheap lager, god knows how he can stomach the stuff - and he seems almost sheepish. “No crisis or anything. Can I get you a drink?”

David thinks he may need one. He hadn't had any real plans for that evening, except going over the plans for the next gig one more time, and by the look on Asher’s face, he’s not sure he’s gonna like the direction he’s planning on taking the conversation.

Setting his jaw, he ignores the offer, giving Ash a hard look. “If this is about me ‘getting a life-’”

“No!” Ash’s hands are up, “I mean, well, you should, buddy - and you know it - but no. That’s not what this is about.”

David waits.

“Are you sure you don't want a drink? Maybe a whiskey? Lemme just-”

“Ash.” There's an edge to his voice, although it’s not a full command, and Asher freezes in place, half-twisted in his seat to flag down the bartender. There’s a flush spreading across his cheeks, his eyes wide as he meets his gaze for a moment, before looking away again, and that… is not the reaction he’d expected.

Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Ash-”

"Babe and I have been talking."

His brow lifts, before the implication of his words settles in, and David’s heart clenches. Shit. But before he can say anything - and fuck, what could he say? He knew how happy Ash was in this relationship, it was easy to see in the way he’d acted over the last nine months - Ash raises both hands, fingers spread wide, his expression almost comically horrified.

“Shit- no. We aren’t- I didn’t mean… christ, I’m bad at this.” He laughs weakly, combing his fingers through his hair - and it was a mess before David even got here, as if he’d been messing with it ever since he’d called. He’s dressed down for the night, wearing jeans and a loose hoodie that downplays the lean strength David knows lies beneath it, his legs bouncing at the knee where he’s perched on the bar stool. “We’re fine. We’re still together. We were just - discussing the future.”

David releases a slow breath. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, or at least as soft as he can make it. So Asher wanted his support in this. He had it, of course he did.

“If you wanted to ask for my approval to tell them, you have it. It won’t take long to make the application, I can help you find the appropriate references-”

“Oh, they already know." David takes a moment to process that, and Ash flushes again, wincing. “Shit. Look, it - it was an accident. I’ll take the remedial class. But seriously, that's not what I called about-”

A low growl builds in his throat. “Just spit it out already, Ash.”

“-we want you to be our third.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the ambient buzz of conversation in the bar surrounding them filling the silence.

“..Your what?”

“Our- third.” The flush has grown on Asher’s cheeks, travelling down his neck, below the collar of his hoodie. “It means- we want you to join us. For a night. For sex.”

Well, fuck. Anything he could have said, that he’d been planning on saying, flies out the window at that.

“...I’ll take that drink now.”

#redacted asmr #redacted davey #davey/asher/babe #heheheh #ej writes redacted #this could have run longer - and I had ideas for a flustered davey #but ending it here was hilarious okay #<3

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read Into Me-Chapter 1: Wuthering Heights

Steve Harrington x Shy! Reader

CONTINUE READING THE SERIES HERE

Word Count: 2,849

Date Posted: 04/27/2020

Warnings: Swearing

Author’s Note: We starting something newww friends! If you liked or commented on my post about this series, you’re on the tag list! If you want off lemme know, it’s seriously no big deal. I’ve been working on this one for awhile, so if you liked it, please flash me a reblog or a reply! Criticism is always appreciated!

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @aclockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-the-hole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linksispink1995 @asharpknife @alex--awesome--22 @baebee35 @marvelismylifffe @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Flowers poked up between the sidewalk cracks, little white and yellow daisies blooming skyward, their heads turning to bask in the sun. Spring was bursting all over Hawkins, making the town reborn in pastels and Easter bonnets. Babies crawled around in the parks in white outfits, their mothers not worried about grass stains and cooing over their precious bundles of joy.

You crushed the daisies under your boots on your walk to school. You made a point to. They were begging to be crushed, stamped out by your heavy black soles. You didn’t like spring, you hated babies in their grass stained diapers and drool covered cheeks. You couldn’t place why you hated the season, it wasn’t as if you hated the cold or the rain which plagued March and early April, you adored the sound of rain on the Plexiglas roof of your family’s sunroom, thunder in the distance and swirling grey clouds swarming the sky. Then again, that wasn’t what spring wanted to be. Spring wanted to be beautiful bursts of colour and birds singing from their nests, babies crying into life and everything turning green.

Your hatred might have sprung from all that green, your mother had insisted on you taking up an artistic skill, supposedly because it made young women more worldly and affable, and sat you in art classes where you painted bouquets of flowers and bowls of fruit for hours every week. You didn’t hate art; it had become a release for you, a place to vent your emotions and makes something from your mind’s spinning thoughts. You’d filled sketchbooks and canvases with images of aliens and stars and snails. You liked to doodle snails and hourglasses on the margins of your homework. But your favourite thing was to draw your classmates. You were a quiet person, a sensitive soul according to your grandmother, and so often time’s people would ignore you flat out or discount your presence. This didn’t bother you so much, it gave you the chance to look at them without anyone asking any questions, to sketch out their image in charcoal and graphite, covering your hands in black and grey smudges. Your hands were constantly stained black, up the side of your hand to the tip of your pinkie, which meant that your jeans and shirts and sweater cuffs were smudged and stained.

You were sat on the football field’s bleachers one cool April morning, your best friend Samantha Cameron sat next to you, thin headset around the back of her head. She was unable to pull the headset around her black spiked hair, purposefully ghastly pale with black lips. You could hear the muffled sound of Siouxsie Sioux and the Banshees playing at top volume as her head bounced to the beat, her black high tops kicking at the seat below you. You had your sketchpad out, trying to capture the stiff movement of her hair with the graphite piece clutched in your hand.

Samantha turned to look at you with a smile “You get it right yet?” she asked. She could see the annoyance in your face as you rubbed at the drawing, trying to smudge the stray hairs trying to escape the harsh gelling she’d done that morning. Just like your drawing, you suspecting that she’d been unable to get it to do exactly as she wanted.

“It’s getting there, it’s not moving right yet…” you muttered, pulling your lip into your teeth, chewing hard on the skin.

“You have like, four of me as is, I think you’ll survive if it isn’t perfect.” Samantha chuckled, pulling her headset down around her neck, twisting her long strand of pearls around her index finger.

“And I like this one best, your hair is moving so interestingly today…” you swiped at the page, pulling the eraser gum out of the coils and rubbing out the mistake you’d made, adding more shake to the tips of the centre point.

“Besides,” you chuckled “I’m not gonna have the time to get any good sketches of you with post-its in your hair this year.” Usually, you and Samantha would try to take one class together a year, but she had to switch her English class to first semester so she could snag a gym credit to train for potential college reps. She wanted to be a Wellesley girl and get a scholarship for soccer and she needed to be a top performance to get one.

You sighed, turning away from her. “I still hate that Mr. Lawrence insists on group work…” you muttered. You understood her decision, but you felt a bit nervous about being on your own. You’d gone to school with the same kids for your whole life, but being on your own with no one to depend on socially for a whole semester scared you.

Samantha wrapped an arm around your shoulders “You’ll be fine, you know that he usually assigns partners anyway.” She said, rubbing your bare skin gently.

“I know I just really don’t want to get stuck with some nitwit.” You replied. On cue, the bell blared from the outdoor speakers and you closed up your notebook, sliding your graphite and eraser gum into the coils and shoving it into your backpack, stringing it around your shoulders.

Mr. Lawrence’s hair had gone white long before he’d begun to show to process of aging on his face. His only wrinkles were from tension on his forehead and around his mouth.  His white hair was a sort of burst of smoke around his head, always puffed up around his head and never fully settled into a style. You smiled when you walked into his classroom, taking a seat in the far back corner. You’d already gotten a sketch of his puffy cloud hair, so you left your notebook closed.  The rest of the class trickled in, clumped in their little groups and chattering loudly, taking up the seats around you. Nobody paid much attention to you, which didn’t bother you as much as it used to. It still left a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You wished that you had your headset, so you could block out the sound from your peers.

You hoped that the seat next to you would stay empty, that people would avoid you and let you sit quietly. It hadn’t before the break, but the room had been set up in little table groups of four. Now, the room was set up in three rows, two desks pushed next to each other all the way down. Mr. Lawrence had already had to yell twice for people to not move the desks, a sign of little cliques forming. Vicki Clarke had tried to pull the desk next to you over to turn the end of the middle row into a fire hazard, causing Mr. Lawrence to yell out for a third time. Vicki rolled her eyes, but released the desk, taking the desk next to the free one, leaving a clear space between her and you. You didn’t mind; Vicki always smelt like artificial apples, from the cheap body spray she slathered herself in at her locker and the scent gave you a headache.

Tina Martins practically ran to Vicki as the bell rang out, immediately calling to Vicki “Move that desk over!”

Mr. Lawrence rolled his eyes “Miss Martins we are not moving any desks in this room. Take a seat.” He announced. Tina’s shoulders sunk, but she obeyed without an argument, taking the seat to Vicki’s right. Then, the reason for all the commotion walked in, late slip in hand.

Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was still something to talk about, even after being horrifically dumped by Nancy Wheeler, he was still a hot object around the school, especially for girls burned by the newest small town hottie Billy Hargrove. Vicki and Tina were two primed recent burn victims, Tina having tried and tragically failed to get Billy’s attention at her own house party and Vicki being the first ‘hump and dump’ victim of the notorious man whore. Steve’s sad boy behaviour had attracted the attention of many bleeding hearts throughout the school, letting themselves get their hearts drained by his succubus heartache. And here he was, puffed up like a robin, his bright red member’s only jacket mimicking the red breast on the bird, his hair perfectly coiffed and glinting in the florescent lights. Heartbreak had done his ego good, teaching him that girls were a dime a dozen if you were hot and sad. The concept of preying on vulnerable girls made you sick to your stomach.

Steve handed his late slip off to Mr. Lawrence and he stamped it with the date punch he kept on his desk. “Welcome Mr. Harrington, please take a seat so we can begin.” He said, his rectangular glasses sliding off his nose as he spoke.

Suddenly, the energy in the room changed. It was then that you realized the class was mostly girls and every single girl in the room was staring at Steve. It was obvious to you in an instant: they wanted Steve to sit next to them and they were all out of luck, sat next to friends or other girls desperate for the same attention. The bargaining began, girls whispering to the person next to them to move, sliding cool erasers or lipsticks over onto the other desk, peace offerings they hoped someone would take. Mr. Lawrence’s classroom had fallen to jailhouse rules and you sat wondering when the first person would pull their shank. No one moved as Steve made his way to the back of the class. Then, another thing became clear-you were the only person with a free desk next to them. Vicki waved shyly to Steve as he took the seat and you tried to disappear. The whole room’s eyes were now on you and unlike Steve you absolutely hated it. You wanted to disappear. Now, you were enemy number one to every girl in the room.

“Alright, let’s begin then, yes?” Mr. Lawrence clapped once and commenced the lesson “Welcome to your last two months of English! I’m passing around the breakdown for your final assignment and copies of our last reading for the course, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights.” The class groaned. You’d been hoping for a lighter, more modern read, something at least from that century. But you knew that Mr. Lawrence loved a classic and had to follow the suggested readings for your grade dictating by the state. You took your tattered copy and wordlessly handed the pile off to Steve, who didn’t notice that it had landed on his desk until Vicki pointed it out with a giggle.

“Now, everyone turn to their desk mate. He or she will be your editor and writing partner for the final essay of the year!” your heart dropped. You were stuck with Steve. And he was an idiot. Every stupid thing you’d heard uttered from a classmate’s mouth had always been from his. He once asked who the US was fighting in World War two. He spent one class arguing with a teacher that Beth didn’t die in Little Women, not believing it even when the teacher sourced the exact page when Alcott revealed it. He once failed a health assignment because he mixed up the names for the parts of the male and female. Literally mixed them up, your seventh grade health teacher had provided them for the worksheets and told the class to cut the out and glue them on and he mixed up all the words into a pile. He was an idiot!

Tina’s hand shot up fast and Mr. Lawrence called on her. “Mr. Lawrence, can we be a threesome with Steve?” She asked loudly, smirking over at you. Vicki giggled at the word ‘threesome’, hands clutched over her mouth.

“But then what will Y/N do? She won’t have a partner.” Mr. Lawrence flashed you a small smile and you just about threw up. This was all too much for you, too much attention, too many people looking at you.

You raised your hand timidly “I’ll be fine if that’s what they want to do. I don’t mind working on my own…” you said, your eyes locked on the course breakdown.

“See, Y/N can handle herself.” Tina said. If you knew Tina to be anything other than mean and condescending, you would’ve taken that as a compliment.

“I want every student to have work edited and reviewed by a classmate before I look at it. I’m sorry, but I’m not making exceptions to the rule. If your desk mate wants to switch with Steve, then that’s another thing entirely, but you cannot be a group of three.” Mr. Lawrence laid down the law on that and moved on with the lesson. While Tina and Vicki attempt to convince one another to switch seats and let the other have Steve, neither would budge and Steve seemed utterly uninterested in their spat. To be fair, he didn’t seem interested in the lesson either. He had taken to drawing on the surface of his desk, scratching his initials into the wood.

“Now, for your first assignment back, I’d like you to write me a piece on your spring break. Nothing fancy, just one page typed. We’ll write the first draft today and exchange it with our partners to be edited and rewritten for Friday.” He announced “When you’re done, read chapters one through three of Wuthering Heights.”

With that, the semester had begun again and everyone went to work. Voices took over the room, people chattering around you. You felt a pair of eyes on you, but you flipped open your binder to a clean sheet of paper and began writing out your simple description of your break. You knew that Mr. Lawrence didn’t actually care about what you had done or had to say, only that you’d done the work and had proof of editing for it. This was a practise for the main event. Still, you could make a page out of art classes and driving to Carmel with Samantha to see some random band in the basement of a dive bar. You could even make it interesting for him. But, something still made your stomach churn. You didn’t want Harrington looking at your writing. You didn’t consider yourself the next Hemingway, but you could write an essay. What worried you wasn’t being told that you were wrong. It was letting him into your mind at all. You didn’t know Steve and he didn’t know you, what if he didn’t understand you? He wouldn’t understand you.

You looked up from your work to see Steve looking blankly at you. You met his eye, raising your brow at him. He looked away fast. You didn’t know what it was about, your hands came up to your face, wiping at your cheeks and mouth. Maybe there was something on your face. Maybe your hair looked silly. Maybe he was making fun of you. That had to be it. He was making fun of you. Vicki and Tina were always bugging you and Samantha, maybe he was joining in. It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Lawrence had forced you two to be partners. You pulled your body away from his, curling into yourself.

When the bell rang, you pulled your work into your bag, making a break for the door. You had your free period next and were desperate to finish your drawing of Samantha. You didn’t need to have her in front of you to catch the right details; you’d drawn her a million times.

You had barely made it into the hallway when Steve grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a cocky grin “Whoa, slow your roll there kiddo,” he chuckled. Your skin prickled under his hand and you wanted nothing more than to disappear. You stopped dead in your tracks, pulling away from his hand carefully.

“So, how’re we doing this?” he asked, his attention moving from you to the yelp of Tommy Hanson. You didn’t need to look to know that Carol Perkins was beating him with her bag again. That was a weekly occurrence.

“Write your stuff and hand it off to me in class. I’ll edit anything up till forty-eight hours before it’s due. I’ll give you my stuff when you give me yours.” You said quickly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“Sounds cool,” Another cry from Tommy, this one more directed at Steve, drew his attention fully “Alright, I’m coming Hanson! See ya around.” He directed the farewell to you, bounding off towards the source of the sound. Even when his presence was gone, you still felt his fingertips on your arm.

Samantha threw her arm around your shoulders, rebooting your systems again. “Hey, what was that about?” she asked, leading you away from Mr. Lawrence’s classroom and towards the gym, her next destination.

“That was because you fucked me over.” You sighed. It was going to be a long month.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve x reader #steve x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington series #stranger things series #steve harrington stranger things #series #stranger things hc #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanon #stranger things fluff #netflix #reader fanfiction #steve harrington x reader insert #steve x reader insert

[psychewithwings]

Love Bakugo: Pt. 3 Missing Person

Sorry for the WAITTTT, I love you guys so much xxx

It was easier to get your boyfriend to forgive you. You’d looked back through your old facebook photos and found a similar picture from when you were back at UA. “We were just recreating the photo for the announcement of our alliance,” you’d said. Your boyfriend was still grumpy but he had offered to take you to work tomorrow. You had agreed, begrudgingly, not wanting to spend much time with him in close quarters. That night you had gone to sleep, as close to the edge of the bed as possible. You tried to imagine nice things but you wanted to be in your own space. Your heart felt heavy laying in bed with the man you no longer loved. Part of you wanted to wake him up now, throw him out of bed, and yell at him that you knew everything. But you thought about how many guys just get a talking to and nothing else, they learn nothing and continue to hurt people. This was the last time your boyfriend would hurt someone. It was ending with you. It was lucky that Bakugo had surprised you at your house this morning with a “surveillance job”. You apologized to your boyfriend flippantly saying, “duty calls,” and then jumped into Bakugo’s car with your hero costume on. “So, what’s the job?” you asked once inside. Bakugo smirked, “there’s some bagel’s that really need us to keep their eye on them…” he said and then, like he did once in a blue moon, he laughed. “You really just picked me up to get breakfast with you?” His eyes softened but his focus was still on the road. “You shouldn’t spend time with him,” he said gruffly. “Thanks…” and even though it was said softly and simply, you’d meant it. You and Bakugo had been practically estranged since your days at UA but if you hadn’t had him right now, you’d still be oblivious to your boyfriends mistreatment. “Yeah, always,” he said. Your breath caught in your throat as you remembered the last time Katsuki had said those words to you. You pushed the thought from your mind as you got out of the car and followed Katsuki into the bagel place.  

He had paid for everything insisting he had to because he hadn’t issued you your first paycheck yet. “You can laugh, Y/n. It was a joke.” You had laughed then, but it was a nervous laughter. Even in all the years you’d known him, he had never been so gentle with you. At UA, you were often partnered together. You weren’t a good match against each other because your quirk was mental warfare and his was incredibly physical. Amokenisis, the manipulation of love. It had it’s limits of course but as long as your opponent could hear your voice or if you could touch them, they were putty in your hands. That’s why Bakugo was such a tough match. His explosions made it difficult for you to get close, and they were loud, drowning out your siren song. “I HATE YOU Y?N,” he’d would yell in your face after losing a match to you. But this turned into you two training together most days upon Aizawa’s advice. Because when you two worked together, you were unstoppable.

Durring breakfast you’d kept your mouth shut about the memories that were passing, like cars. You weren’t ready to talk to him about the letter again, or his “always.” Bakugo opened up his car door for you but he said nothing and did not look your way.  Katsuki wasn’t stupid and you were sure he was watching the same film in his mind. The drive was silent, save the few bits of interjected banter to keep the awkwardness at bay. Always. The memory was so strong, you could still feel his hand against your cheek. Always.

“You ready?” he asked as you both swiped your ID cards upon entrance. “Never been more ready for anything in my life,” you said smirking. He lead you to the top floor and into an empty room with large bay windows and a single desk. “If you don’t like this one, there’s others downstairs,” he said plainly. “No no, I like it, very much… and it’s close to you,” you said more flirtatious than you had meant. Bakugo did not respond to your advance, however unintentional, and instead turned to walk out. “Lemme give ya the tour or whatever.” You followed him out of the door and began taking the tour. In the first few steps, viewing the lobby, he took your arm and looped it through his. He tried his best to walk beside you. You could see it was difficult for him to move at this slow of a pace. He always walked as if he was burning his path with his feet, where as you preferred to saunter, stopping to smell the roses. He eyed you from the side, “can you hurry up just a little, we have staff meeting in an hour and theres a lot of my agency to show off to ya.” He gave you that cocky grin you’d grown to love.

He showed you the underground training centre, which had a pool and an obstacle course for heroes to practice on. He showed you support, where all the hero equipment was made and distributed. You could see your boyfriend watching you from the glass walls of his office, which oversaw all the work tables, where his subordinates tinkered with finding solutions to the constant hero problems. He glared at Bakugo, but changed his tone, when Bakugos gaze shifted to follow yours. You waved at your boyfriend, your arm still linked with Katsuki’s.

The meeting was held in the training centre. There were about 500 members of staff there already chatting and smiling. You stood next to Bakugo on a large raised structure, in front of a microphone. A large projection blinked numbers and stats on the blank wall behind you. He had wanted to introduce you to the team and you felt incredibly nervous. You’d always been humble and never given your popularity much thought. You understood the value of your quirk, but you became a hero because you knew you were powerful enough to keep people safe, you didn’t do it for attention. “Cant I just go with the others and listen?” you asked Bakugo. He scoffed at you, “no, you’re too good to just listen, Y/n.” You knew that was the end of the conversation so you starred into the sea of eyes and tried not to feel too self conscious. You watched as a woman walked into the training centre, she was pretty, her hair was long and her smile was blinding. You watched as she began talking with a few other heroes. Her laugh rang out like a song and your heart dropped, something told you that was her. Of course it was… Bakugo must have caught on because he squeezed your hand tighter, and just like the night at the train station, he didn’t let go.

Your boyfriend was one of the last to enter and he looked like a mess. His arms were crossed and his lip was pulled up slightly, in contempt. “Guys, lets pipe the fuck down,” he said into the mic. Was this how Bakugo started all his meetings? “Okay, so finances are good, our agents are the best in the city, who cares, that’s not what’s important today. Everyone, please welcome my good friend Y/n, or as you all know her Amor Rose. We’re really lucky to have her.” The crowed cheered… for you. You laughed nervously then smiled and accepted the applause. “You wanna say anything?” Katsuki asked you. You felt like you should so you nodded. “Shut it! She’s talkin’” he said. The room fell silent, save for the microphone’s feedback and all eyes were on you. “Oh, well, I just wanted to say that I’m really excited to be here, and I hope to make you all, and especially Katsuki proud.” The crowed cheered again and you felt ready to walk back to the quiet of your office.

The meeting seemed to be breaking up when a woman ran onto the platform carrying a small file. She whispered something to Katsuki and then scuttled off. Katsuki opened the file and looked it over carefully. “Before everyone goes, we just received a pretty severe missing person’s case.” The projection changed from stats to… oh dear god!  It was your boyfriends high school year book picture. “This is the message from the concerned party, ‘I’ve tried connecting with my old friend from high school for years and I haven’t found anything related to them. I am worried something bad has happened and no one knows… he was kind of a loner and wasn’t super close with his family. Bakugo Agency… please help.’ Files will be distributed accordingly. Let’s get to work and get this guy some answers.” You turned to see your boyfriend red faced and fuming. Did he know it was you? Did he suspect? Bakugo was dragging you off the platform before you could get a good enough read off of your boyfriend.

Bakugo was pulling you back to the locker rooms of the training centre. Once you were out of earshot you both burst out laughing. “Did you see his face?!” you exclaimed. “I sure fucking did,” he said and you laughed more. “I can’t believe it! When did you set that up?” Bakugo looked down at you, eyebrow raised. “The moment you told me there was a bad picture, you dummy,” he said playfully. You hit his shoulder softly, “don’t call me that!” You both laughed again and then you looked up at him. “You’re the best,” you said. He wrapped his arms around your back and pulled you into him, his eyes still trained on yours. “I know,” he said. “No, I mean it,” you pushed. A thick stillness hung above where you both stood in the deserted hallway. Looking at his face, you saw the letter in your minds eye. You pulled away  slowly, feeling more confused than ever. Revenge was becoming less important by the second.

Tag List: @rebel---black​ @random-fandom-girl-24​ @unawi13-blog​

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #mha #bnha #bakugo x reader #bakugo fan fic #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you

[zaharadessert]

Things I’m Typing (TIT) Thursday

So... I’ve recently started trying my hand at this new fandom... Up until a few weeks ago I was convinced that the only fandom I could ever write was Harry Potter... and then some lovely people decided to tell me I was wrong, and encouraged the hell out of me... So now I’ve posted one fic, and I’ve started on another for @cssns so um... thanks to @donteattheappleshook for introducing me to some lovely cheerleaders and here, my dears, is a sneak peek at something from chapter 2 of my currently untitled supernatural cs fic...

So... idk how many of these I’mma be doing but I guess if you want in on tag list lemme know? Ta x

Killian hid in the shadows, waiting. He may have been an Alpha now, but that didn’t mean he was as rash as Liam often accused him of being. He’d lost just as much as anyone else in their conglomeration of a pack over his lifetime. He knew that this meeting was a risk for both parties, that of Gold or any member of his pack discovered them, knew that they’d been fed information for years now… 

He heard them approaching, scent wafting in on the breeze and his forehead creased in confusion. There was something about it that felt… was familiar the right word? It could be but he felt like it was too strong for what he was feeling. The door at the other end of the barn opened with a slight squeak. The other wolf cleared their throat and made their way to the middle of the room, standing in a sliver of moonlight that fell through the hole created by some slipped roof tiles.  

Killian waited, not moving, barely breathing, taking in all the information he could. After a long moment, he shifted just enough to look round the corner and get a good look at the wolf. He was well built, tall, looked like he should have been an Alpha but that wasn’t the read Killian got from him.  

Deciding that the time had come, Killian moved out of the dark shadows at his end of the barn, and into the light. The other wolf tensed, but Killian moved forward with purpose, he took up a position a few feet away. Close enough that they could talk quietly, far enough away that neither of them would get a swipe in without showing a tell of movement first.  

“I’m sorry about the jaw…” the other wolf said, finally, and Killian realised that this was the Beta he’d been fighting a couple of months ago.  

Killian chuckled.  

“I damn near ripped your arm off, so I think we’re pretty even,” he replied. 

“You broke ma hip too, there was a reason I didn’t get up,” he responded with a shrug. Clearly as far as he was concerned it was water under the bridge. “We’re just doing what we have te in order te survive.” 

“Aye,” Killian nodded. “So… you need saving?” he said deciding to get to the point.  

“I’ve needed saving for seventeen years… Killian…”  

Killian blinked, his jaw dropping just a little, and then he frowned. He stepped closer, searching the eyes in the shaft of moonlight, and for the first time really looking at this beta. He looked desperately back at him, but at the same time… hopeful.  

“Graham…?”

#OUAT #cs fanfic #cs au #werewolf #a/b/o #work in process #ouat fic #mine #oh dear god what am i doing? #excuse the way I wrote the accent #I hadn't planned this scene and then I realised it needed to happen lol

[jocelyn-wellson]

Dr Hayes closed the heavy walnut door to her cherry-paneled office. She activated the magical wards - no one would hear what they would have to say. Jocelyn sat down on the leather chaise, her hair still growing, and a shy, coy smile on her face. Dr Hayes sat in her own leather office chair. She took up a glass of water, watching the young woman. Some of the tics were still there: the twitches, the hypervigilance, though she was showing signs of improvement. Of healing.

"Good afternoon, Jocelyn," she began, setting the water down and picking up her legal pad and fountain pen. "You seem... peaceful, at least more peaceful than I have ever seen you. Your skin is clearer; your weight, healthier; your hair is more uniform. Tell me about your week."

Jocelyn took a long deep breath. "Et's 'ard ta talk 'bou', doc..."

"Hard because someone doesn't want you to, or because the words are not coming?"

"A lit'le o' both," she admitted.

Dr Hayes made a quick note on her pad. She tapped the fountain pen to her lip. "What would help us talk about you this week?"

Jocelyn looked about; it was a sure sign she was uncomfortable. Dr Hayes was acutely interested, however, because she had never seen this manifestation of these symptoms with her current disposition. Jocelyn was nervous, not fearful. She made another note.

Jocelyn’s body language was obvious. She had no idea how to talk about good things occurring in her life. "I...," she began, fingers wringing. "I 'ave some people in mah life now, tho I cannae say frien's yet, I care abou' 'em."

Dr Hayes was a bit surprised, though she did not betray her thoughts. "You've met people? Shop keepers and the like? Or members of the public? Co-workers?"

"Combina'ion," she said.

"That's wonderful, Jocelyn," said Dr Hayes. She practically beamed at her patient. "What do they do?"

"Why's et mattah?"

"Just want to know who you are meeting, is all."

Jocelyn looked a trifle offended, though she entertained the question. "A stable maid, a wai'ress, an ol' lady, a saleswoman who's 'elpin' me ou' wit' a projec', an’ someone else."

Dr Hayes looked on impassively. "You are gravitating to the working class, and avoiding the criminal," she said.

"Ta th' bes' o' my thinkin'," she agreed.

Dr Hayes thought for a moment. She decided to address the largest hole in the entire list. "Who is this someone else?" she asked.

Jocelyn could feel herself flush, slightly at first and then blossom into a deep crimson. "Met a woman," she said.

"How?"

"Followin' 'er place ta place 'til she go' th' drop on me."

"That's not healthy," said the doctor.

"Nah, nah, ya go' it all wrong," said Jocelyn.

Dr Hayes gestured for her to continue, though the look on her face was one of extraordinary skepticism.

"I tol' ya... back when I firs' was firs’ leavin’ th' monestary. I called ou' fer th' Director. And all I 'eard was 'Hawke'."

The doctor nodded. "I remember."

"Foun' a lead on a person in Unit 8. Din't recognize 'er. E'eryone else di' tho. Beautiful, she is. Curves..." her fingers retraced the route they had taken the night before.

"That's fine, Jocelyn. It's the following I am worried about."

"Yea, yea. So I talk ta people 'ere, people there. Et's 'ow I met all th' people I di'. Jus' talkin', wantin' ta know my mark before'and."

"Before..."

"Before we met," said Jocelyn. She gestured at the faint roadrash covering the left side of her face. "She foun' me firs'." She chuckled.

"I see. Work related, not ... something else."

"Good Gods, I ain' tha' crazy, doc."

Dr Hayes smiled gently. "No, you are not."

Jocelyn grunted an approval. She leaned back in the chaise, leather creaking. She closed her eyes and began deep breathing.

"So what is troubling about this person?" asked the doctor, noting her breath.

Breathe in... An image of blue lips rushing to meet her own. Breathe out... Her heart, fluttering. Her body and mind, so warm. She continued to deep breathe:

"Yanno I 'ave trouble talkin' 'bou' myself, my pas'..."

The doctor nodded. She started to write, taking note of the body language and the spoken dialogue.

"Donnae wha' et was 'bou' this woman, bu' et's like I donnae go' no armor, like I..." She looked distressed, but oddly happy at the same time. "...Doc, et ain' serious. I donnae think it'll ge' serious or nothin'. Bu' in tha' momen', bein' touch'd, bein' kiss'd... I ain' le' no one do tha' in a long time, no' on tha' level.”

The doctor finished note taking. She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "Who was the person before this?" she asked.

Jocelyn bit her lip. “Please, no...” She started to breathe faster. “I cannae...” Dr Hayes reached across the coffee table just to touch the back of her patient's hand. It seemed to help calm her.

"Me dea' baby's fathah," Jocelyn said after a moment. "'e was a goo' man by rights, ‘til 'e met me, an' then 'is life fell apart. We were gon’ be married: sea commandah ‘n’ ‘is wife. An' then the life we made ... et died inside me," she said. She swiped at her eyes. "Lemme tell ya... Tha' man... 'e 'ad a way o' makin' me feel safe, like I was needed, wan'ed, impor'ant. Beau’iful. Tha's 'ow Vyn made me feel for jus' a secon'."

Dr Hayes watched her patient grab a cloth and wipe her face. She remained otherwise neutral, though supportive.

"This encounter with this woman l, this Vyn ... it made you feel important and safe?"

Jocelyn looked at her boots. "Ya lef’ somethin’ ou’... et’s somethin’ I’ve been 'earin' et all week, doc."

"What's that, precisely?"

"Tha' I'm beau’iful, doc,” she replied. Her voice cracked. "Donnae think I though' tha' in years. Til this week. An’ yanno, I felt tha' way las' nigh'."

"Did you two..."

"No, no. No' like tha'. Jus' a kiss 'n' nudge 'tween new 'quain'ences."

Dr Hayes's eyes lit, ever so briefly. "You deserve these things, Jocelyn. You do. And they're coming to you."

Jocelyn bit her lip. She looked up at the doctor. "Yanno wha'?" she asked, thinking about that wine vault she had found, the people she had met, the job she had. "I'm... I'm thiknin' yer right. These are nice things, an’ they’re 'appenin' ta me."

"To whom do you think the credit belongs?"

Jocelyn flinched. She closed her eyes. "I cannae answah tha' now, ya see."

"Why not?"

"Et's no' th' righ' time, yea?" she sounded a little peevish.

Dr Hayes nodded. "If you're not ready, let's not talk about it just yet. Deal?" The women nodded to each other, a tacit, unspoken agreement. "Now, then. What else happened this week?"

( @lovelydeadlysocialite / @zeehva @kat-hawke )

#jocelyn wellson #vynette #unit 8 #the cellar #research #legacy #story

[heartslogos]

the declassified texts of the inquisition’s elite [102]

(786):  I think the heterosexuals across the hall are negotiating about breeding. How do I figure out which one is against it and back them up? - (202):  what are you up to? (1-202):  it's 8pm, i've already showered and gotten in bed. if you wanted to make plans u should have asked 3 months in advance -

“Stop being mean to the heterosexuals,” Dagna says. “Also stop calling them that. I mean. It’s true. But it’s just weird, it sounds like you’re talking about a zoo exhibit.”

“Isn’t that how they talk about us?” Sera asks. “Anyway, you think I could get someone to hook us up with some gear to eavesdrop? I think this argument is just getting its legs and we’re in for a heck of a night of free entertainment, babe.”

Dagna shakes her head fondly, “You’r just inviting someone to turn around and spy on us.”

Sera gestures around their apartment. “It’s the Inquisition Dagna. We live in an Inquisition building, with Inquisition members on all sides. We’re definitely being spied on constantly.”

“That’s disturbing.”

“That’s facts.”

“Why don’t you ask Leliana or someone in security to let you poke in then?”

“Because if I go that route that means I risk having someone poke on me that way. No, this shit’s gotta be off the Inquisition books.”

“You think they’d record you abusing resources?”

“I think they’d think it’s fair game and open season if I start it,” Sera replies. “It’s like…ethical something or whatever. That’s why it’s gotta be creative. Hey, one floor up across the hall to the — uh. Left? That’s Malika and Edric right? You think they’d let me borrow their balcony to spy?”

“What, exactly, are you going to do on their balcony?”

“We got rope. I’m excellent at parkour. I could get down there and listen.”

“Sera. You’re going to hang off the edge of a balcony and balance on — I don’t even know, window ledges? And you’re going to do that for how long to eavesdrop?”

“Well. If someone has a mike I can borrow then I’ll just leave that there and fetch it once everything’s done. I’d even share the bounty of my entertainment with whoever has the mike.”

Dagna sighs. “I have a spare mike. I don’t know how good the quality is because it’s been. Uh. Mishandled a few times.”

“Define mishandled.”

“Dropped.”

“From?”

Dagna grimaces, “Several stories up? It’s a little banged up but I mean. It turns on? I haven’t actually tried to use it since the fall.”

“Why did you even keep it?”

“Sera, do you even have to ask? I can’t just throw things away. That’s be reasonable of me. I have to keep them because of what-if situations like this one.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Sera nods. “Lemme see what I can do with that mike. I mean. It’s not like we don’t have a building full of tech-heads who could fix it anyway. Does this mean you’re in?”

“Color me curious,” Dagna replies. “Come on. Let’s get you your climbing gear. I’ll text Edric and Malika. At the very least Malika will want in on this for sure. She might actually have a better mike than we do, honestly. That kid’s recording set up is insane. I’d ask where she’s getting the money but at this point I think the bigger question is where she’s finding the time.” - “I don’t know if I’m surprised by that answer or not,” Max says, staring at his phone. “I mean. I guess I’m surprised Mahanon even answered me. But eight pm and in bed?”

“Damn, he’s got his life together if he requires a booking for conversation three months in advance,” Herah says, turning to Kaaras. “Aren’t you jealous of that kind of composure?”

“Someday I’ll have a stable night time routine,” Kaaras replies mournfully. “I think the part you should be surprised about is that he sounded amiable to making plans with you.”

“I grow on people. Very slowly. But I get there.” Max grins. “Alright. So Mahanon is out — alright wait. Now hold on. Eight pm? He shares a living space with his sister and the Iron Bull. Eight pm? No way is he sleeping.”

“He could just be watching videos on his phone or reading. The point is that he’s in bed and you aren’t moving him, I guess. It’s a way of saying he’s clocked out socially for the day.”

“I refuse to believe Mahanon has ever had a time card to punch in and out of, digitally of physically.”

“Metaphorically. Alright. So. Mahanon’s out. Anyone got Ellana?”

“Ellana’s not answering,” Kaaras replies before he starts to list people off. “Malika’s working on something for school. Edric’s doing something else I guess. Sera’s off base already. Dagna’s game and she’s on her way.”

“Very nice.” Herah nods. “I asked Blackwall but you know how he is. He never checks his personal phone, he’ll never answer. Point is I tried. Alright so. You, me, Max, Dagna. That’s a passable amount of people to play. Josephine’s in a meeting for another hour so she probably won’t be able to say yes or no until we’ve already started.”

“Oh, just got a text back from Leliana. She’s bringing Cassandra. Cullen’s at some kind of medical check up but he said after that’s done he’s game. Should we call for take out?”

“Let’s figure out how many people are showing up for impromptu game night first,” Herah says. “Alright so that’s up to around six. Eight, maybe, once things get rolling. Kaaras, did you ask Dorian?”

“I think he’s in the lab, the message hasn’t gone through. I was going to ask Dagna to check on him on her way.”

“Excellent. Alright. I’m texting the Chargers as a group. Wait — anyone have Cole?”

“I have Cole, he’s still typing his response. I’m a little scared about why he’s taking so long to type out an answer to what’s essentially a yes or a no question.”

“Let us know how that poetry slam goes when it’s done. We’ve got no one with any dietary restrictions right? Pizza should be good. Oh, shit, that’s Aclassi hold on.” Herah holds her phone up to her ear. “You bastards down or what?”

Max and Kaaras wait as Herah talks with Krem. Kaaras offers Max his phone with the food ordering app open. Max takes it and starts swiping across restaurant deals and free delivery options.

“Oh shit, what?” Herah exclaims and the two glance over at her before returning to examining their food options. “That’s crazy. Fuck yeah, bring that shit over. Oh, you found Ellana? She’s coming too? Nice. Alright. Half an hour? Cool.”

Herah grins. “Don’t order food.”

“Why?”

“The Chargers are on their way back to Skyhold after a mission, they picked Ellana up along the way, and apparently they stopped to help a buffet that was broken into and vandalized. The guy was so thankful that he gave them all his leftovers from the day. They’ve got the goods.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 32)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 17k story words: 267k (so far) chapter: 32/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression, consensual d/s undertones genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: um so this is like a month overdue... but it's long af. and i've cut down what was going to go in this chapter. i hope it is worth the wait <3 massive thanks as always to @auroraphilealis for being my biffle, beta, and cheerleader. she's been by my side as a beat this chapter to death and listened to a million rambles of why it was important to me to keep it all together (which i only mostly ended up doing) and other pretentious shit. she's wonderful xx

note: this chapter contains more explicit themes than past ones. unlike past chapters, outside of the marked smut, there is risque material. skim at your own discretion if you are uncomfortable, but it wasn't set up in a way i could mark

By the time filming had finally ended, Dan felt emotionally fucking exhausted. Being so open and honest on national television, and having to be so careful with his words, had drained him of just about everything. There wasn’t an ounce of propriety left in him, and at this point, all he wanted was to be taken care of and not have to fucking think for a little bit.

Letting go — whatever that meant — was impossible on set. From the second he’d finished performing his song and had ducked backstage, he’d been craving a hug from Phil — a proper hug, not the one-armed bro-hug Phil had given him. But stagehands were running everywhere, and there didn’t seem to be a bloody centimeter of privacy, so Dan resisted. The minute he got in the uber, he could collapse against Phil.

But for now, resting his foot against Phil’s as he stood behind the stage wall would have to suffice. Dan closed his eyes, replaying his interview in his head as he listened to the loud hum of the audience laughing and applauding and — holy fuck. He’d actually just done that. He’d actually talked about his most personal matters, something he’d taken great lengths to keep secret, in front of all of those people. The studio held what? Two hundred people?

Two hundred people who were now privy to Dan’s rambling thoughts about sexuality and boxes, who now had a whole fountain of knowledge about Dan’s sexual and romantic preferences. Two hundred people who had seen Dan be open and vulnerable and honest.

The gravity of the interview smacked Dan in the face, and that’s when he realized, really truly realized, that those two hundred people were just the beginning. In a few short hours, that interview would play on national American tv, would stream on youtube worldwide. And sure, he had known that while he was filming, but he hadn’t known. Not in the way it was all hitting him now.

Dan swallowed thickly and let his hand brush against Phil’s. He wanted out of here. He wanted a hug. He wanted to think about anything other than this interview, his fate, his audience, just for a little bit anyway.

The twenty minutes it took to get an all clear lasted about five years. Dan was so on edge and ready to leave that he was already ordering a car before a stagehand had even finished dismissing them. Without waiting for proper goodbyes, Dan seized Phil’s wrist and dragged him out of the studio, down the lift, out the back door — and not the back door that fans often waited for celebrities at, either.

Dan felt a wave of relief rush through him when he burst out of the exit and found a black car already stalled next to the curb. Rushing over to the car, Dan wrenched open the back door and ushered Phil inside.

The relief coursing through Dan’s veins ran cold when the driver greeted him though. The way he confirmed Dan’s name, the breathlessness in his voice and the distinct spark in his eye — they were the unmistakable signs that someone recognized him.

Perhaps the ride back to the hotel wouldn’t be as relaxing as Dan had hoped.

Still, Dan shuffled in after Phil, leaving the full space of the middle seat between them. And less than a block later, Dan’s hunch was proven right when the driver asked which show he had been recording for at Rockefeller Center.

Not wanting to actually engage with this stranger, Dan grunted a reply and made a show of putting in his headphones, even though he didn’t actually play any music. It may have been rude, but it worked. The driver didn’t ask any follow up questions.

Of course, that didn’t stop his gaze from flickering into the rear view mirror every other bloody second. Dan felt like an animal in a glass box, on display and on edge. Phil was right there, but Dan didn’t feel like he could reach out, not under such intense observation.

Like Dan had told himself and Phil and Louise a million times, tonight was about talking about bisexuality, about giving that topic all the attention it deserved, not about him and Phil. The last thing Dan wanted was to have their relationship inadvertently outed by a random crew member or uber driver.

So Dan held back. Instead of sinking into his boyfriend’s side and letting himself get lost in Phil, Dan stayed on his side of the backseat and fell prey to one of the most volatile coping strategies he had — the internet.

Dan googled the average number of viewers of The Tonight Show and discovered it was over two million a night — and that wasn’t including the extra views that youtube brought in. And that, naturally, brought Dan to his next google search, where he discovered that The Tonight Show’s youtube channel had a whopping nineteen million subscribers. Subscribers who would undoubtedly have access to Dan’s rants about bisexuality, and his recently failed relationship, in just a few hours time.

Overwhelmed by the sheer significance of everything, Dan spread his legs obnoxiously far apart so that one knee pressed into Phil’s. Phil nudged back deliberately, a silent reassurance of his presence, a subtle demonstration of his support.

It wasn’t the bear hug Dan craved, but it was enough for now. The slight pressure of Phil’s leg against his own helped Dan stay grounded as he switched gears and fell down a wikipedia black hole about most viewed celebrity interviews. Unsurprisingly, videos about famous entertainers coming out were high on the list.

Right. No pressure there.

By the time the car pulled up to the hotel, Dan’s desire for real physical contact had developed into flat out desperation. He just needed this goddamn weight to ease back for a fucking minute.

Without waiting for Phil, Dan hiked his backpack over his shoulder and bolted into the hotel, through the lobby, and straight to the lifts.

It seemed to take bloody forever for a lift to actually arrive, but it took even longer for Phil to catch up. Dan had to pass on two elevators before he finally saw Phil entering the hotel, lumbering awkwardly across the lobby, weighed down with Dan’s guitar.

Oops.

In Dan’s haste to make it to their room, he’d forgotten that his guitar — his favorite guitar — was in the trunk. Eyeing Phil’s lopsided stance, Dan grimaced and took a small step towards him.

“Sorry,” Dan said apologetically as he pressed the up button for the third time. “Lemme take that,” he offered, reaching out for the worn handle of his guitar case.

With absolutely none of the coordination that Dan had developed over the years, Phil switched the guitar to his opposite hand, suddenly making it much harder for Dan to easily swipe it out of his grip.

“Phillll,” Dan whined, reaching across Phil’s body for the handle.

“Dannnnnn,” Phil retaliated as he stuck his tongue out and held the guitar even further out of Dan’s reach. His bicep was quaking, and his body definitely wasn’t used to the extra awkwardly large weight, but Dan couldn’t help appreciating how fucking sexy it was that, for the first time in ages, he had someone that was willing — determined, even — to carry Dan’s shit.

The bell on another lift finally dinged, and the doors opened. Dan’s attention snapped from Phil’s playful face to the empty lift. Relief rushing in just by the sheer presence of the lift, Dan gestured for Phil to take the lead. Luckily, it was that in-between time of night when most people were at dinner or something of the sort, and they had the lift to themselves. Dan took advantage of the brief moment of privacy and stepped in close to Phil, his knuckles gently brushing against Phil’s hand, the loving fingers that were inexpertly wrapped around the handle of Dan’s heavy guitar.

“Thanks,” Dan murmured, the teasingly childish tone suddenly vanishing, and a disgustingly sweet one taking over. In what he hoped wasn’t too cheesy of a move, Dan closed the small distance between them and pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek.

Brows furrowed, Phil cocked his head at Dan. “Dan, it’s just a guitar, I don’t mind.”

“Mmm,” Dan hummed, stepping back to his place. He watched the numbers climb as they passed floor after floor, observing Phil out of the corner of his eye. Phil was quiet, but shot Dan an odd look, his expression a mix of pointed and sad. It utterly baffled Dan for a second — until he remembered their conversation from yesterday morning, that was.

Phil didn’t have to say a word, Dan could practically hear him pointing out that his reaction was a bit unhealthy. Appreciation was fine, sure, but the amount of surprise he felt at a partner doing something so simplistically nice probably didn’t speak highly of his past relationships.

Wanting out of that moment before Phil could force Dan to properly think about his reaction, Dan darted out of the lift as soon as the doors opened and hurried down the hallway. Behind him, Phil’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, pausing just out of reach when Dan came to a halt outside of their door and fumbled to find his room key.

Maybe nerves or exhilaration or exhaustion was still gripping Dan, or maybe it was the knowledge that he had Phil and a hotel room and a foreign city all to himself tonight, but it took him three tries of swiping their card before the light finally flickered green.

The click of the latch was a wave of relief, and Dan found himself shoving their door open with far more force and enthusiasm than was necessary. Without waiting for Phil, Dan barrelled into their room and crossed the space in three quick strides, coming to a stop in front of their bed and spinning around to stare impatiently at Phil.

Fucking finally, they were alone.

Phil was a few steps behind him, and didn’t seem to have any of the urgency that Dan had. Dan watched anxiously as Phil walked towards him at the pace of an impregnated, fat sloth. Carefully, and ungodly slowly, Phil sat the guitar down in front of the bed and finally, finally his hands were free.

Dan didn’t wait for Phil to straighten up before launching himself into Phil’s arms, physically demanding to be held. The sudden weight of Dan threw Phil off balance, causing him to stumble backwards towards the bed.

“Oi,” Phil gasped as he tumbled to the bed, just barely managing to not fall all the way onto his back under Dan’s momentum. Even as he fell, his hands landed on Dan’s hips and pulled him down to the bed too. Just for a moment, Dan found himself awkwardly leaning into Phil, not quite sitting, not quite standing.

With a flustered giggle, Dan shifted his body so he was straddling Phil’s lap instead. Dan’s hands slid up from Phil’s waist, and looped around his neck, finally pulling him into the private and intimate embrace Dan had been dying for.

“Well hello there,” Phil greeted, his hands dipping under the hem of Dan’s jumper, his fingers thumbing over the jut of Dan’s hipbone. Phil’s voice was low, and his touch was sultry, and Dan couldn’t hold back a shaky sigh. He felt so damn needy, and the soft drag of Phil’s fingers on his bare skin was already quieting his screaming mind some.

Dan shifted back up, just enough so that he could look Phil in the eye. The cheeky and smug look on Phil’s face wasn’t surprising — maybe someday Phil would stop looking so satisfied about the reactions he pulled from Dan, but they clearly weren’t there yet.

“Hi,” Dan responded with a smile, not even bothering to hide the effect Phil was having on him. Dan tipped his head forward, closing the small distance between them, and pressed his lips to Phil’s.

Despite Phil’s teasing tone, he let Dan take what he wanted, matching Dan kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Dan wasn’t sure who licked whose lips first, who opened their mouth for who first. He did, however, realize that it only took a short minute for them to escalate from sweet kisses to proper snogging.

Before they could get too carried away, Dan pulled back, panting slightly. Even though he needed a decent lung capacity for singing, it seemed that kissing Phil for two minutes stole his breath in a way that a long high note never could.

“Where’s — the room service — menu?” Dan asked, his words coming in pants as his gaze drifted to the bedside table and then the desk, searching for a helpful booklet.

Phil fingers slipped down from the middle of Dan’s waist to the low hem of his pants. His brows furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “Why?” he asked.

Huffing an exaggerated sigh, Dan shot Phil an incredulous look. “Because I’ve had a crazy fucking day and would like to let loose a little…?” After knowing Phil for nearly three full months, Dan was rather surprised to have to point out the obvious to him.

“Well yeah,” Phil huffed and cleared his throat. His pupils were blown wide, and now it was Dan’s turn to feel pleased with himself; he might be a mess from two minutes of kissing Phil, but Phil was just as flustered after two minutes of kissing Dan. “I know that much.” Phil rolled his eyes and slid his hands out of Dan’s trousers to a less scandalous spot, tracing his thumbs lightly Dan’s prominent hip bones. “I just meant, I’m surprised that you don’t want to go out since we only have a few nights here.”

Dan shrugged, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated Phil’s comment. He’d definitely had some great nights in the bars of New York, but they’d all come with the unfortunate price tag of at least half a dozen paparazzi photos. That wasn’t what Dan wanted tonight — tonight he just wanted Phil.

Tentatively, Dan let his hands drift from Phil’s shoulders up to his bare neck, his thumbs softly rubbing along Phi’s pulse points. “I mean… It’s not that I don’t want to enjoy New York, I just…” Dan couldn’t help the way his gaze drifted down from Phil’s, landing instead on his lips. Coyly — or at least he hoped it was coy and sexy — Dan slipped his hands down Phil’s neck and under the collar of his button-up shirt. “I’d rather not be bothered by a fan or the media tonight, ya know?” Just in case the meaning behind his words wasn’t clear enough, Dan dipped his thumb further down Phil’s shirt and grazed his collarbone suggestively.

“Mmm, that’s fair,” Phil murmured. Taking Dan’s lead, Phil’s hands nudged up higher on Dan’s hips, pushing his leather jacket and tight jumper up even higher so Phil’s fingers could brush over the bare skin near the top of Dan’s ribs. “But what if I told you I knew a place where we’d be left alone?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Dan straightened up. He’d been in New York. He’d been to elite clubs, he’d been to dive bars, he’d been to locals only restaurants — and on every occasion, he’d been photographed. In his experience, this was a city of famous people, and in turn, that meant it was a city of photographs and tabloids, a city of journalists searching for their next break.

“What kind of place is this?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Well,” Phil bit his lip, suddenly looking a little hesitant. “Technically it’s a gay club. But the standard cover is high enough to keep out most fans, and they’ve got an absurd amount of security, just in case.”

“How do you know about a place like that?” Dan pried; he’d been to New York half a dozen times and he’d never heard of any exclusive gay clubs. But even as Dan questioned Phil’s knowledge, he could feel the excitement growing in his stomach. He hadn’t been to a proper gay bar since he was seventeen, and never with a partner — at least not someone who wasn’t just a fling. He couldn’t deny that the idea was hotter than hell.

“Oh. Uh, well,” Phil shrugged awkwardly, sounding shifty. His eyes darted away from Dan’s, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “Another gay youtuber has a friend who is a bouncer there?” he explained, but he sounded so unsure that it came out as a question.

Dan eyed Phil suspiciously. “How jealous should I be of this guy right now?”

“Of Tyler? Not at all. No way. Never.” Phil shook his head vehemently, his gaze flicking back to Dan.

“And Tyler is…?” Dan prompted slowly, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head.

“He’s just a casual friend who lives in LA. We collaborate when we’re in the same city,” Phil shrugged.

Dan narrowed his eyes skeptically. “And the bouncer?” he pushed, sensing that there was something that Phil wasn’t admitting.

Phil’s gaze shifted to the side again, his cheeks growing red. The grip on Dan’s chest slipped, Phil’s hands dropping down to the base of Dan’s hips.

Dan’s heart followed Phil’s hands, plummeting down into his stomach and then somehow sinking even further. Just from Phil’s reaction, Dan knew he’d figured it out.

“It was one time and really didn’t matter,” Phil admitted, sounding defeated, embarrassed. “But he’ll let us both in for free and there won’t be cameras there.”

Dan was surprised to find that he wasn’t just jealous, he was almost repulsed. His stomach churned as his brain supplied images of Phil and some gorgeous boy tangled in bed together, making him feel nauseous.

“I’m not sure I want to meet a guy you’ve fucked,” Dan said, aiming for teasing and joking, but as soon as he said it, he was sure the insecurity shined through. “I mean, what if he’s cuter than me?” Dan chuckled half-heartedly, doing his best to salvage his dignity. He really didn’t want Phil to think he was a jealous dick or clingy or something else completely annoying. Even if it was kind of true.

Phil laughed — genuinely laughed, not an awkward chuckle like before. “First off,” he started, his voice actually light and humorous, not forced casual like Dan’s. “There’s no way anyone has ever, or could ever, be cuter than you. Not that I'm aiming to find someone else.” As if to prove his point, Phil’s fingers dipped into Dan’s jeans and pointedly hooked under his pants. It wasn’t just a little this time; now Phil’s hands were properly inside of Dan’s pants, his fingers inching towards more intimate parts of Dan’s body. “And second off,” Phil continued, “I suffered through two months of knowing you were sleeping with someone else. I think five seconds of interaction with a random guy I slept with a year ago doesn’t compare.”

“Uh!!” Dan gasped in protest, his voice high pitched and offended. “I didn’t sleep with her for the last month and you know it!”

“Yeah, now I know,” Phil agreed begrudgingly. “But I didn’t then and I was so damn envious.” Phil licked his lips slowly. “Plus,” he added, his voice lower and gruff. “You were sleeping with her in the beginning, and I had to watch you come in with marks all up and down your neck that proved it.” As if to make his point, Phil dragged his fingers along Dan’s sensitive neck possessively, thumbing over the spot where coverup was hiding a hickey on Dan’s pulse point.

Dan’s stomach twisted in reaction, and a shiver ran down his back — whether it was the clear jealous attitude or the cursing that was turning him on, he wasn’t sure. There was a part of him that was willing to forfeit embracing any amount of New York tonight, that wanted to rock his hips forward and show Phil just how little reason he had to be jealous now, to take full advantage of the nice hotel room they had.

“Come on, let me take you out, buy you a few drinks. Maybe a nice dinner first, if you’re hungry,” Phil pleaded.

There was another part of Dan — an unexpectedly bigger part of him — that was itching to go out with Phil, to find a different way to show Phil that Dan was all his, even if it wasn’t the approach he was used to. And besides, after so many months of being dragged out by his ex, something in Dan couldn’t help finding the fact that Phil wanted to take him out, just for the sake of being together, incredibly sexy.

“Alright,” Dan agreed, conceding even as he let his hips suggestively rock against Phil’s just once — he couldn’t resist, not if he wasn’t going to have the chance to do so for a while. “We should definitely have something to eat first, though. I haven’t eaten nearly enough today and I reckon I’ll be drunk after half a cocktail if we don’t get food.”

“Fair enough,” Phil agreed as his hands slipped out of Dan’s pants, lightly gripping Dan’s hips and guiding him backwards. Tilting slightly to the side, Phil fished his phone out of his back pocket. “What kind of food do you want, then?”

“Doesn’t matter. Something with a view of the city might be nice,” Dan suggested with a small shrug. Sliding all the way off Phil’s lap, Dan made his way to the mirror, fluffing at his hair. The makeup from earlier still looked nice; the eyeliner wasn’t smudgy and the color on his cheeks still seemed to accentuate his features. Eyes meeting Phil in the mirror, Dan added, “Nowhere so fancy we can’t wear the clothes we’re wearing to the club, though.”

He knew if they had to come back to the hotel to change there was no way Phil was convincing him to leave again.

“I know just the place,” Phil said decisively, his gaze turning back to his phone.

*******

Less than an hour later, an uber was dropping Dan and Phil just outside of Times Square with an apology that they couldn’t get them any closer to their destination. During what felt like an infinitely-long car ride for Dan’s curious nerves, Phil had refused to tell Dan where he was taking him, and for a split second, Dan had been worried Phil was going to usher him to one of the hot dog or pizza carts littered around the square before leading him to a bench to people watch.

Not that Dan was strictly opposed to street food — he certainly didn’t want Phil to splurge on another fancy meal so soon after their last date. But also, he’d learned from experience what some vendors’ food will do to stomachs, and if they were planning to head to a club later that night, they should at least try to spare themselves diarrhea and food poisoning.

Phil took a hard right before they made it to the throngs of people though, his hand on Dan’s lower back to guide him in the right direction. The sudden turn led them… into the valet entrance to the Marriott?

Dan turned to look at Phil, but his face was perfectly neutral. “Phil, did you bring us halfway across Manhattan to eat at a different hotel’s restaurant?” Dan asked dubiously, letting Phil lead him through the revolving doors and into the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, we’re going to eat at the touristy hotel bar of a place we aren’t even staying,” Phil responded sarcastically. His hand dropped from Dan’s back, something that disappointed Dan until he followed Phil’s gaze to a gaggle of teenagers across the lobby. “Just trust me, Howell,” Phil teased, flashing Dan a coy smile as he pressed the call button for the lift, the doors immediately opening.

“If you insist,” Dan smirked, stepping into the lift after Phil. “You’re on thin ice though, Lester.” Despite the mock-warning in his voice, Dan quickly closed the gap between them when the doors closed and pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek.

The doors parted again just seconds later, letting them out at the third floor. Confidently, Phil led them down the hallway, only to stop in front of another set of lifts. Dan cocked an eyebrow but wordlessly followed Phil as the doors to the next lift opened.

“Those only go to hotel rooms past this floor,” Phil cryptically explained as he pressed the button for the forty-eighth floor. This ride was longer, giving Phil enough time to lean in and kiss Dan on the lips. “I can’t promise this place will be free of photographers, so get it out of your system.”

Despite his giggles, Dan leaned forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own, this time lingering long enough to capture Phil’s lower lip between his teeth, long enough to nip at the soft and sensitive flesh inside Phil’s mouth. Long enough to reach for Phil’s hips and slip his fingers beneath Phil’s clothes, suggestively thumbing across the bare skin of Phil’s waist.

“Mmff!” Phil let out a throaty noise halfway between a moan and a reprimand, as he pulled back from Dan’s kiss.

“What?” Dan asked innocently, even as he let his fingers drift towards Phil’s arse. “You said to get it out of my system.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d feel me up in a lift,” Phil shot back snarkily.

“Mmmm,” Dan hummed. “Maybe I could resist feeling my boyfriend up in a lift if he didn’t look so damn gorgeous.” Dan eyed the denim jacket Phil was wearing, his gaze lingering on the fitted shirt covered with tiny pale flowers that was buttoned up all the way to his Adam’s apple, drawing Dan’s attention to Phil’s neck. The deep, pinot-noir purple stood out starkly against Phil’s pale skin, bringing out his eyes and making him look unfairly quirky and sexy at the same time.

The bell dinged and the doors parted, cutting off Phil’s reply. Dan snapped his mouth shut, but let himself continue eying Phil as he exited the lift — he could only do so much to tamp down his blatant arousal tonight, when Phil looked like that.

Phil didn’t hesitate to stride up to the host stand and give his name — that was something Dan was still getting used to, a partner being willing to take the lead in moments like this. It was proving to be far hotter than Dan had ever expected it to be.

Dan was still processing everything when the hostess started leading them towards a table. The restaurant seemed to form a circle around the lifts, and all of the exterior walls were replaced with grand windows overlooking the New York skyline.

Dan had only gotten one foot on the raised platform before Phil’s hands were softly gripping his shoulders. It was a good thing, too; Dan was fairly certain he would have fallen if Phil hadn’t steadied him. Beneath their feet, the platform was moving.

“What the…?” Dan breathed, baffled by the way the top step was moving but the bottom wasn’t.

“Look outside,” Phil murmured, his voice just centimeters from Dan’s ear. Following Phil’s suggestion, Dan glanced out the nearest window. Now that Dan was looking closer, the city around them seemed to be shifting slightly, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the restaurant that was rotating ever so slowly, not the skyscrapers outside.

“Holy shit,” Dan mumbled quietly, coming to a halt when the hostess gestured to a small table along one of the massive windows.

Dan sat, too captivated by the view of this foreign city to pay attention to the muted conversation Phil was having with the woman. Outside, Dan could see building after building, could see the moon rising over the water. It was a spectacular view, and judging by the slow rotation, it was only a portion of what he was going to see tonight.

It wasn’t until Phil’s knee gently bumped against his that Dan tore his gaze away from the window and turned back to face his boyfriend instead.

“When did you have time to make a reservation?” Dan asked stupidly, his brain still struggling to wrap itself around the amazingly gorgeous restaurant Phil had brought him to.

“While you were primping for tonight,” Phil teased. His hand slid across the table just enough to brush his knuckles across the back of Dan’s hand.

Dan’s hand, the one that wasn’t just barely touching Phil, flew up to self-consciously pat his curly hair.

“Stop,” Phil gently ordered. “You look good. Really good. Primping time was well used.”

Dan’s hand fell back to the table, his thumb immediately tapping out a mindless rhythm. He couldn’t believe Phil had taken the twenty minutes of downtime to book them a window-side table. “You’re amazing,” Dan sighed, awe dripping from his voice. “Seriously amazing.”

Phil tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulder as he flashed Dan a cheeky grin. “That is what they call me,” he said playfully.

“Oh fuck off,” Dan huffed, unable to stop the wide smile that spread across his face and the way his hand pressed against Phil’s. Teenage Phil really had picked out the perfect username for himself — amazing was by far the best word to describe him.

Dan’s gaze drifted back to the window. The view was slowly twisting so that they could see more and more of the river. The water was twinkling, reflecting both the moon and the bright lights of the city.

“Wait,” Dan exclaimed suddenly, his head whipping from the window to Phil. “Don’t you get motion sickness?”

Phil shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “Usually. But the restaurant moves so slowly that it won’t bother me as long as I don’t look outside for too long.”

Huffing a small sigh, Dan frowned slightly. “We could have gone to a restaurant where the view wouldn’t make you sick,” Dan pointed out.

“We could have,” Phil agreed easily. “But I knew you’d like this one.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbled quietly, a smile pulling at his lips. He turned his attention to the menu, if for no other reason than an easy excuse for hiding the blush that was flushing his cheeks. Phil ignored his dinner menu in favor of the black, leather-bound drink book on the table.

“Does your hatred for white wine extend to champagne, as well?” Phil asked idly, not looking up from the menu he was studying.

“Definitely not,” Dan denied vehemently, smiling stupidly at the thought of Phil ordering them champagne. “Champagne is its own branch of alcohol and it’s wonderful.”

“Good,” Phil folded the alcohol menu primly, and looked back up at Dan. “Because you were truly exceptional tonight, and deserve to be spoiled.”

“Phi-illlll,” Dan whined, bringing his menu up to hide the redness of his face with such force that it accidentally smacked him in the nose. His stomach tightened at the compliment, a shiver ran down his spine.

“Oh I forgot,” Phil said innocuously, his voice far too knowing to actually be innocent. “Does someone have a bit of a praise kink?” Phil continued with fake-casualness, his voice low and quiet. Husky. Sexy.

Dan dropped his forehead to the table with a resounding thunk, the menu shifting to cover the back of his head as his hands shielded his face from Phil’s view. “You aren’t supposed to take advantage of that in public.”

“Oops!” Phil laughed, actually laughed, as he kicked a foot out to nudge Dan’s. “Sit up and pick out what you want for an appetizer, babe.”

Slightly mortified, and more than a little flustered, Dan rose up again, his gaze steadfastly fixed on his menu. It was a fruitless effort, though — he could feel Phil’s eyes boring into him, which did nothing to calm his pounding heart and swooping stomach.

He realized they’d been handed a prix-fixe menu, meaning they would each get three courses for the flat rate of… holy shit. Eighty nine dollars.

At this rate, it was getting hard to tell if Phil’s tastes in restaurants was just as fancy as Dan’s, or if he was trying far too hard to impress him. In the months that Dan had gotten to know Phil, he’d learned that Phil was generally somewhat frugal — though never to a fault. In his business and personal life, Phil was always conscious about how he earned and spent his money. That hardly seemed in line with the extravagant dinners he was taking Dan to.

“Phil,” Dan started carefully, planning to test the waters and see if Phil would want to switch to the normal menu, one where they could share an appetizer and skip dessert (and shave a few dollars off the bill).

“Hush up and choose your appetizer, Howell,” Phil said without looking up from his own menu.

“Fine, I will, but…” Dan trailed off, his eyes darting out the window to avoid looking at Phil for a second before drifting back.

Phil folded his menu in front of him and looked at Dan with an unreadable stare. “But what?”

“But… you know not every date has to be expensive food and fancy restaurants, right? I’d be fine with Dominos and your sofa.”

“And I’m sure we’ll have our fair share of nights in with too much pizza. But I also like quality food and nice restaurants, and I know you do, too. So order whatever you want and enjoy tonight.”

Dan’s face must have betrayed the small bit of wariness that was still gnawing at his stomach, because Phil continued, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I promise you can pay next time we go somewhere expensive, okay?”

Dan smiled, his heart melting. “I adore you, Phil Lester.”

“And I you, Daniel Howell.”

****

The food was heavenly. Dan opted for lighter, mostly vegan dishes — a salad and a lovely squash roast — because he didn’t want to feel bloated and lethargic if they were going out after dinner. Phil had seafood instead and offered Dan small tastes of it, holding his fork across the table and letting Dan bite off it.

Dinner was lovely, but the company was even better. By the time their waiter was bringing them dessert menus, they were both well on their way to properly tipsy.

Sometime during the main course, Phil had ordered a second bottle of Dom Perignon. The bubbles — and ever growing feelings of infatuation — were going straight to Dan’s head, making him feel giddy in a way he couldn’t ever remember feeling before.

Around them, the restaurant was quietly buzzing with the Friday night crowd, the bar growing slightly more crowded as the night went on. Sometime in the past hour, the overhead lamps had dimmed, the lights of the city outside casting a soft glow over their table. They’d made a full circle, rotating around to see the empire state building and central park, and now they were back to the river.

Still though, Dan only had eyes for Phil.

Under the table, their feet were entwined together, mostly shrouded by the long white table cloth — although the more champagne Dan drank, the less he cared. A few times, when Phil gave him a particularly sweet compliment or an especially sexy look, Dan couldn’t resist brushing his fingertips over Phil’s or letting his toe drag up the inside of Phil’s leg.

In typical Phil fashion, he turned his full attention away from Dan for the first time all night when the dessert menus came, reading over the options with impressively deep intense concentration. Dan didn’t mind — he knew he couldn’t compete with sweet food, but he also knew dessert would come and go, and Phil would be his again.

“Dan!” Phil exclaimed, pointing to the very first item on the menu. “Look, they’ve made cake out of cheese! That shouldn’t get to count as a dessert!”

Dan giggled, his eyes still trained on Phil. “You know, not everyone has the same weird aversion to cheese as you, Philly.”

Phil didn’t respond, too engrossed in the list. “Oooo, look, they have profiteroles and — ew!” Head shooting back up, Phil gave Dan a genuinely horrified expression. His voice was just a hair too loud for inside, especially for the posh and intimate restaurant, but it was fine. “Who orders a cheese plate for dessert!?”

Fuck, Dan was so soft for this boy, this boy who had such bullheaded opinions over what counted as dessert, but was entirely open-minded about anything bigger. “What can I say, the world is full of zanies and fools.”

“Who don’t believe in sensible rules?” Phil quipped back with his brows raised knowingly, not quite singing, but also not exactly just talking either.

“Exactly,” Dan agreed with a nod, letting his eyes linger for just a second before finally flitting down to read his own dessert menu. There was an undefined sappy thought beating at the edge of Dan’s mind, something about how Phil felt like the fairytale impossible thing that happened to him, but he shoved it aside — that was too much even for his champagne-addled heart.

Scanning his menu, Dan’s gaze caught on one of the desserts — not because of the ingredients, but because of the suggestive name.

“I reckon I’ll order the Cherry Explosion,” Dan said, voice low as he looked up at Phil through his darker-than-usual eyelashes. “Hopefully it’ll be a preview of what’s to come later tonight.”

Phil held his gaze for a long second, a slow smirk spreading across his face and a playful twinkle in his eye. “You know,” he started slowly, leaning forward. Beneath the table, a warm hand suddenly landed on Dan’s thigh, fingertips dipping between his legs to rub along the inseam of Dan’s trousers. “I’m not normally a big fan of cherries, but if that’s what gets you there, I can get used to it.”

Dan’s jaw dropped open — both at Phil’s words and at the way his hand was slowly creeping higher and higher up Dan’s leg.

“I don’t — I’m not —” Dan stuttered, trying to defend why he had cherry lube at home, but there wasn’t a restaurant appropriate way to say that he got used to keeping it on hand in hopes that it would entice his ex-boyfriend to eat him out. “I don’t love the taste that much!” Dan finally managed.

Phil’s hand froze on Dan’s leg, his brows shooting up and a knowing smile growing on his lips. “So the flavor isn’t for your benefit, hmm?”

Shrugging, Dan did his best to keep his face neutral and voice steady — but the heat on his cheeks and his quickened breath told him he wasn’t doing a great job of either. “A lad can hope…” Dan muttered weakly.

The knowing smile on Phil’s lips turned positively lewd, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip, his eyes darkening with lust. “Hope for what, Daniel?” Phil challenged.

Dan swallowed thickly, squirming beneath Phil’s intense gaze. He fiddled with the edge of his menu, resisting the simultaneous urges to knock Phil’s hand off his leg so he could think straight and pull Phil’s hand a few centimeters higher to where Dan really wanted it. “You know… something besides just… fingers,” Dan murmured, dropping his eyes to the table.

“I think most people don’t need flavors for a simple blowjob,” Phil pointed out, a smug edge to his voice.

“Philllll,” Dan whined, his face growing impossibly redder. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he grumbled into his flute of champagne, refusing to look Phil in the eye.

“Look at me, babe,” Phil demanded softly. Head still bowed, Dan shifted his eyes to look up at Phil, whose fingers resumed their teasing caress along Dan’s inner thigh. “And tell me what you meant.”

“I didn’t mean there,” Dan whined, praying Phil wouldn’t actually make him confess that he liked being eaten out in the middle of a fancy New York restaurant. That’d he’d settle for the blatant implication.

Phil looked like he might push it, but Dan was saved by the timely appearance of their waiter, back to take their dessert order.

Without taking his eyes off Dan, Phil ordered, his voice returning to its normal volume, a hint of huskiness still laced in. “I’ll have the profiterole, please, and he’ll have the cherry explosion.”

Pointedly, Phil squeezed Dan’s thigh, and Dan felt like he was on the verge of cracking, on the verge of begging Phil to dine and dash, to skip the club, to go back to their hotel — or fuck it, get a room in this one — and fuck him already. The subtle way Phil took charge, the way he challenged Dan in ways none of his past partners ever had, the way he made Dan feel so bloody taken care of — fuck, it was driving Dan insane.

“Bloody hell, Phil. You’re gonna kill me.”

*****************

“We’re here, babe, you have to get out of the car,” Phil insisted with a giggle. He was standing on the curb, holding the car door open and offering Dan his hand.

“I caaaan’t,” Dan whined, his words slurring together thanks to the full bottle of champagne he’d drank at dinner. He petulantly crossed his arms and stayed firmly planted in his seat.

“This nice man has’ta go pick up his next people, though,” Phil pointed out, flashing an apologetic glance towards the front of the car.

“But Phil, if I get out, then e’ryone’ll see,” Dan grumbled. Phil’s eyes followed Dan’s gesture towards his lap, a saucy smirk quickly pulling at his lips.

Dan’d been half-hard since they’d ordered dessert, and his trousers were still pulling tightly across his crotch, a telling tent forming in the center. Phil had been entirely unhelpful during the ride to the club, alternating between teasing Dan about how easily excitable he was and letting his hand wander up and down Dan’s thigh, not giving him the chance to calm down. They’d both had too much champagne to be discreet about it, and Dan hoped the driver wasn’t too scarred — he hadn’t said anything to reprimand them, at least.

“It’s dark out, no one’ll notice,” Phil argued, threading his hand through Dan’s and tugging gently. The awkward reach across the backseat was enough to unsteady Phil, and he braced himself on the doorframe, wobbling just a bit. “C’mon, as soon as we’re inside, you can get us a seat on the sofas and I’ll get us drinks, okay?”

Dan peered around Phil and saw that there wasn’t a line for the club. Maybe they were early — this was New York after all — or maybe this place really was as fancy as Phil had insinuated. Regardless of the reason, that meant Dan would have to interact with minimal people before he could sit down again. Plus, maybe a few minutes away from Phil would help Dan cool down. Lord knew he needed it.

“Here,” Phil let go of Dan’s hand and shrugged out of his denim jacket, offering it to Dan. “You can hold this in front of you in you want.”

“You’ll be cold, though,” Dan said guiltily.

“Not for long if you hurry up and c’mon!” Phil smiled widely, his tongue peeking out more than usual, and shook the jacket at Dan.

Giving in with a disgruntled grumble, Dan gratefully took Phil’s jacket as he climbed out of the uber, only stumbling a little, which he thought was probably a win given that he was definitely both tipsy and turned on. Dan tried to casually sling the jacket over his arm, aiming for a good boyfriend carrying his partner’s coat vibe, and not horny twenty-something hard because of some light pawing.

Phil’s hand landed on Dan’s lower back, guiding Dan towards the entrance. He dropped his hand as they got close, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

He started rifling through, for what Dan wasn’t sure, but the brown-haired bouncer suddenly smiled widely, seeming to recognize Phil, and told him not to worry about it.

Shit — the bouncer! Dan’s drunken and infatuated mind had forgotten that the only reason Phil knew about this place was because he’d fucked the bouncer. Or maybe the bouncer had fucked him. At this point, Dan honestly didn’t know which was worse to think about.

“Well, hey there Phil,” the bouncer greeted, his gaze blatantly raking up and down Phil’s form. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Hi, Oliver,” Phil greeted politely, smiling but keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy’s face. Dan couldn’t help but size up this lad who had slept with Phil; he had chocolate brown hair, curls, and deep eyes — just like Dan. In many ways, looking at this guy was like looking in a warped mirror.

Except for in one very important way.

This guy was built in a way Dan never had been, nor would ever be. His biceps were literally bulging against his sleeves, and Dan could see the sharp outline of defined pectoral muscles under the thin material covering his shirt. Jesus, it was March! Shouldn’t this guy be wearing a jacket or something? Not showing his muscles off to the world?

And rubbing them in Phil’s new boyfriend’s face?

Well aware that he was probably glowering, Dan tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Oliver telling Phil he looked good tonight.

“I’ll be off at one if you’re free tonight,” the bouncer said as he brushed his hand over Phil’s forearm and offered him a saucy wink. Goddamn, Dan was well familiar with that move, and he wasn’t particularly enjoying watching some random bloke pull it on his boyfriend.

The bouncer’s gaze finally drifted away from Phil, landing on Dan for the first time. Understanding seemed to register in his eyes and his hand dropped. “Although, I’m now realizing that might not be an option anymore…” he added, trailing off.

“Oh, uh,” Phil stuttered, sounding strangled and surprised. His hand reached out and wrapped around Dan’s waist. “Yeah. I mean, no! Not’n option, sorry. This is my boyfriend, Dan.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Oliver frowned, disappointed, before offering Dan a cheeky smirk. "You’re lucky. From what I remember your boyfriend sure can ride. He's quite the power bottom, in’it he?"

Dan could feel all the color draining out of his face, could feel how tense his entire body was, could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He was practically shaking — with what, he wasn’t sure. Phil said he’d slept with this guy a year ago. It wasn’t like Dan really had the right to be mad or jealous — they hadn’t even met yet.

But still.

Riding was Dan’s favorite position — he wasn’t keen on imagining Phil doing that with some other guy.

“We’re going in now,” Phil said tersely. “You sure you don’t need a cover?” he added with minimal politeness, cutting in before Dan could say anything. Not that Dan had any idea what he’d say in a moment like this. He reckoned it’d probably start with a choice four letter word, though.

“Nah of course not, it’s always free for you gorgeous,” Oliver replied flirtily, and had the nerve to fucking wink at Phil, even after it became clear Phil was taken. “Feel free to call if you’re ever around again!” His gaze shifted to Dan, dragging over his comparatively lanky body. Dan couldn’t help self consciously adjusting the jacket in front of him, squirming under the lewd scrutiny of this built bouncer. “Or are looking for a third,” Oliver added, this time winking at Dan and deliberately licking his lips.

“He won’t be,” Dan snapped, grabbing Phil’s hand tightly and pulling him into the club as soon as they had permission.

Phil followed willingly, not even attempting to pause and apologize to the guy about Dan’s rude behavior. Not that Dan thought his reaction was unjustified — the asshole had ignored Dan, hit on his boyfriend, and asked for a threesome, all within a five minute window.

Inside, Dan paused for a fraction of a second to appraise his surroundings. The club was dim in a seductive, anonymous way. There were guys everywhere, far more than the lineless entrance had suggested. A long bar lined the back wall, and sofas and low tables created narrow aisles, leaving no room for a dance floor — something that was both surprising and disappointing. Dancing would have been an easy way for Dan to release some of his pent up emotions.

Scanning the room for alternate options, Dan’s eyes caught on a deserted hallway. He pulled Phil down it, not stopping until they were passed the glowing coat check window and as far from the crowd as they could be. Dan’s grip was probably still a little too tight on Phil’s hand, but Phil didn’t complain and didn’t question.

As soon as Dan thought they were alone enough, he spun around on his heel, grabbing Phil by the waist and crowding him up against the wall in one smooth motion. Phil’s jacket fell carelessly from Dan’s grip to the floor as Dan planted his feet on either side of Phil’s, his chest and hips pressed in close.

The position left Phil pinned to the wall, and given the unspoken dynamic that they were both exploring, Dan half expected Phil to flip their positions, to switch places so that Phil was the one pinning Dan to the wall.

Much to Dan’s satisfaction, however, Phil’s only movement was to loop his arms around Dan and pull him closer, hands splayed on Dan’s lower back. That prick outside had gotten under Dan’s skin, and he needed to remind himself that Phil wasn’t with that arse. Dan needed to remember that after months of pining and lusting and yearning, Phil was finally with him and no one else.

“Mine,” Dan growled as he surged forward and captured Phil’s lips with his own. Phil chuckled softly into the kiss, his chest rumbling against Dan’s. Dan could feel Phil’s fingers tracing across his back, could feel Phil’s lips quirking up into a smile. The whole thing reeked of fond and cute, but Dan didn’t want fond and cute right now.

He wanted passionate and possessive.

So Dan didn’t pause, didn’t pull back to let Phil laugh. If anything, he kissed harder; his lips moved urgently against Phil’s and his hands slipped up from Phil’s hips, desperately running over any part of Phil’s chest he could reach without having to step back.

Phil’s lips parted, and Dan didn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in, roughly licking the roof of Phil’s mouth. Not quite battling for dominance, but definitely not letting Dan take complete charge of the kiss either, Phil massaged Dan’s tongue with his own, his hands sliding down to firmly grab Dan’s arse.

The dark hallway, the anonymous club, the foreign city — they all felt like a shelter from the real world, and Dan let himself get lost in kissing and touching and groping. Maybe it was the champagne, or maybe it was the red-hot jealousy coursing through his veins, but Dan didn’t even really care if someone noticed them. Hell, he almost hoped that asshat of a bouncer decided to go on a loo break and saw the way Dan had Phil pushed up against the wall, the way Dan had his tongue down Phil’s throat.

Saw that Phil was Dan’s.

When kissing Phil became too much for Dan’s poor lungs to handle, he pulled back roughly only to immediately latch his lips onto Phil’s neck. Needing to feel Phil in every way he could, Dan rocked his hips forward, grinding their crotches together with a force that made them both groan.

“Mine,” Dan grumbled again, the word vibrating against Phil’s pulse point and pulling a deep moan out of him. He nipped at Phil’s neck, just hard enough for Phil to hiss and tighten his grip on Dan’s arse, his fingers deliciously digging into Dan’s cheeks. “Mine, mine, mine,” Dan repeated before licking over the red spot on Phil’s neck and sucking harshly.

“Of course,” Phil replied, his voice surprisingly full of conviction given how ragged his breath was growing. “All yours, baby.”

Dan slid his hands down Phil’s side, rucking his shirt up and grabbing at the soft, bare skin of Phil’s hips. “I don’t wanna share you with anyone,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck as his lips kissed and bit and sucked their way up to the sensitive spot beneath Phil’s ear.

“Good,” Phil huffed, this time his voice lower and more affected. One hand left Dan’s arse to tangle in his curls, pulling back forcefully until their gazes met. “Don’t wanna share you, either.”

Dan moaned, probably far too loudly for the coat check hallway of some club, but he couldn’t help it. He’d always preferred monogamy — for a lot of reasons. Something about monogamy with Phil, though. Fuck, it was so damn hot that Dan found himself getting even more riled up. And, sure, maybe it wasn’t an idea that would make many people horny, but it was turning Dan on — he literally didn’t think Phil could say anything sexier.

Hands groping higher up under Phil’s shirt, Dan crashed their lips together again, unable to resist the urge to grind their hips together again. His involuntary moan was drowned out by a loud wolf-whistle.

“Get some, sexy!” A deep, male voice called out, making Dan’s wandering hands come to an abrupt halt on Phil’s ribs and his breath catch in his throat.

“Fuck,” Dan muttered, tearing away from Phil’s lips and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Dan could feel his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, could feel Phil’s husky laughter as his head tipped back and thunked against the wall.

Dan wasn’t concerned about the whistling stranger recognizing them, not in the dark shadows of a dim hallway in a fancy club. He was, however, mortified — and unexpectedly a little turned on — at being caught feverishly making out with someone in public, even if it was his boyfriend.

Phil tugged lightly on Dan’s hair, this time lacking the command from earlier, and guided Dan to look at him.

“Drinks?” Phil proposed, his voice ragged in a way that made Dan radiate with satisfaction.

“Yeah,” Dan panted in agreement. “That didn’t help my problem at all, though,” he added quietly. Rocking his hips against Phil’s, Dan let Phil feel the full hardness of his cock. Through their trousers, Dan could tell that Phil’s cock was swollen too, at least halfway, and the friction was absolutely heavenly. Dan had to bite back another moan at the relief that Phil’s hips gave.

“Grab my coat and go find us a sofa. I’ll get us drinks.” Phil’s thumb dragged back and forth, back and forth across Dan’s hip, rendering him speechless and incapable of countering with any other plan, even if a part of him did still want to at least try to pay for something tonight.

“Alright,” Dan mumbled, leaning forward to press his lips to Phil’s one more time before pulling back entirely. Bending down, Dan scooped Phil’s jacket up off the floor and slung it over his arm and in front of his crotch in what he hoped was a casual manner.

Dan let Phil lead the way down the hallway, hovering behind him and taking advantage of the extra coverage while he could. When they reached the main room, Phil gave Dan’s free hand a quick squeeze before they parted ways, Phil bee-lining for the back bar and Dan veering right to find some open seats near the edge of the room.

After a minute of winding, Dan found an empty sofa in a corner of the club. The music was quieter over here, no longer so loud that talking would be impossible. He collapsed onto the cushions and spread Phil’s jacket across his lap. The back of the sofa was low, only coming up to his mid-back — probably to stop people from getting too relaxed and not partaking in the whole club thing. Slouching down so his shoulders were supported, Dan pulled his phone out of his pocket to tell Phil where he was.

The first thing he noticed was the time — almost exactly half past eleven. His interview with Jimmy Fallon would be airing any minute now.

The second thing he noticed was about half a dozen text messages from Louise.

Before he opened her messages, Dan shot Phil a quick text, trying to describe the dark corner he was sat in. Switching over to his conversation with Louise, Dan skimmed over her messages. She’d asked how the recording had gone, what his plans were for the evening, cheekily teased that she hoped Dan wasn’t responding because he was getting laid, and promised to tweet about the show for him — bless her, she really was the best friend and manager he could hope for.

Quickly, Dan typed a quick message back, ignoring most of what she’d said and just updating her on things more generally.

Dan [11:28PM]: taping was good i’m happy with it. i’m sure you’ll see soon. phil and i are out. i’ll ring tomorrow xx

Dan was just hitting send when Phil appeared above him. He shuffled back up into a proper sitting position, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Cocking an eyebrow at Dan’s movement, Phil passed Dan a lowball of something dark and on ice.

“Just Louise,” Dan said as an answer to Phil’s silent question and took a sip of his drink. It was some kind of whiskey, something much more bitter than whatever the blue concoction Phil was holding probably was. Dan was grateful that Phil seemed to remember his drink preferences, even though they’d only ordered cocktails together a small handful of times. He didn’t think he could stomach drinking something as colorful and sugary as Phil’s. “Thanks,” Dan said with a smile and a tip of his glass in Phil’s direction.

“You’re welcome,” Phil replied, twisting slightly to face Dan as his free arm came to rest on the back of the sofa behind him. “Sorry about that, by the way.” Phil pointedly nodded his head back towards the door. “I didn’t think he’d hit on me, especially not with you there. Hell, I didn’t even know if he’d be working.”

Dan shrugged, twisting slightly so that he was facing more towards Phil than the rest of the room. “It’s’not your fault,” Dan said genuinely. “Although, you promised me he wasn’t cuter than me.” Petulantly, Dan huffed and sent a glare in the direction of the entrance.

“And?” Phil chuckled, his hand slipping from the sofa, his fingers grazing along Dan’s ribcage. Something about the way Phil was so casually sprawling across the sofa, the sheer manliness of the position, combined with the gentle drag of his fingers on Dan’s side was fucking attractive. “Tha’bloke is nowhere near as stunning as you,” Phil continued, his voice low and sincere.

Dan stuck his bottom lip out, pouting up at Phil. “Are y’kidding?” Dan whined. “He looked like me, but with actual muscles an’ not limp noodle arms.”

Phil’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His eyes dragged over Dan, lingering on his arms, his chest. Dan squirmed under Phil’s intense gaze, and he was certain his cheeks were growing red. He slouched down again; Phil was taller than him now, and Dan had to tip his head up to look at him. From this angle, Dan had a perfect view of the red marks blossoming on Phil’s neck, and he felt pride swell deep in his stomach.

“I’ll admit I have a bit of a thing for dark hair an’ pretty eyes,” Phil conceded, a small smirk on his face and humor lacing his voice. Elbow still resting on the back of the sofa, Phil bent his arm so he could run his hand through Dan’s hair, petting sweetly. Dan couldn’t resist just slightly leaning his head back into the touch, silently encouraging Phil to continue his ministrations. Jesus christ, he loved his hair being played with, both in and out of the bedroom. “But the muscles don’t really do anything for me.” Phil shrugged casually, his eyes dropping from Dan’s again to salaciously rake over his body.

“In fact,” Phil continued, his voice suddenly lower, huskier. Sexier. “I prefer that you’re a li’le more narrow ‘n me.” The hand in Dan’s hair slid down. Phil’s fingers lightly traced down the side of Dan’s neck, making Dan’s skin feel on fire and his breath catch in his throat. Phil scooched a little more towards Dan, and the close proximity made Dan have to look up even more. “I like being able’ta wrap you up in my arms.”

Arm wrapped around Dan’s shoulder, Phil pulled him in so that Dan’s shoulder was leaning against Phil’s chest, making Dan feel tiny — and not in the bad way he had a minute ago, when he’d been comparing himself to the fit bouncer out front.

This time, Dan was less subtle about the way he settled into Phil’s embrace. He brought the leg closest to Phil up, and let his knee fall into Phil’s lap. Phil seemed to welcome the new position, his other hand shifting to rest his drink on Dan’s thigh.

In sync, they both took a sip of their cocktails, and Dan found himself completely distracted from the bitter taste as he stared heatedly into Phil’s eyes. Pointedly, Dan flicked his gaze down to Phil’s glass with a challenging spark in his eye, and tipped his own drink back further. It wasn’t until the liquid was half gone that Dan stopped. With a small smirk, Phil followed Dan’s lead, lifting his glass higher and chugging.

Dan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Phil’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and god, he wanted to drag his teeth against it, nip and lick Phil’s neck, add to the marks already there. He wanted to make Phil feel good, wanted to chase the sharpness of the whiskey away with the taste of Phil’s skin.

Overcome with the need to kiss Phil right now, Dan nestled his glass by his hip and tugged on Phil’s wrist. Phil clearly got the hint, his eyes twinkling with mirth and his drink lowering to Dan’s leg.

Pulled together like unstoppable magnets, they both leaned in, their lips meeting with heady passion that was likely too much for a nightclub. Phil tasted fruity and sweet, a perfect contrast to the heavy, bitter flavor of whiskey lingering in Dan’s mouth. Their lips moved against each other, Phil’s tongue almost immediately dragging along Dan’s lower lip, practically demanding entrance. Pliant and desperate for anything Phil would give him, Dan parted his lips and let Phil in. Hot desire rushed through Dan’s veins, his arousal only growing when Phil licked behind his teeth.

Dan let himself be kissed, pushing up, up, up into Phil, chasing the overwhelming feeling of Phil. It was so much, and yet not enough.

A sharp tug of Dan’s hair forced him to tip his head back further — and jesus fuck, that was hot. The new angle gave Phil access to Dan’s neck, and his lips worked their way down from Dan’s mouth to his pulse point. Beneath Phil’s mouth, Dan could feel his blood rushing, his heart pounding, and he never wanted this moment to end. The soft scrape of Phil’s teeth on his skin drew a loud moan out of Dan and caused his muscles to go slack.

Wet, cold liquid splashed onto Dan’s thigh, and he tore himself away from Phil’s lips. He looked down, finding his glass tipped precariously to the side. Oops.

Now that their drinks were emptier and the music was louder, any hope of carrying on a proper conversation had slipped away. That was fine — they’d talked plenty at dinner, and there’d be plenty of time for talking later.

Sitting upright, Dan drained the last sips of his whiskey, motioning for Phil to do the same. There were only a few gulps left in Phil’s, and he obediently knocked it back. As soon as the drink was empty, Dan snatched the glass out of Phil’s hand and hurriedly put them both on the table. His movements were careless and clumsy, resulting in one of the glasses almost immediately tipping over and ice spilling out.

Dan ignored the mess — he didn’t particularly care about anything other than Phil right now. Dan swooped back in and pressed his lips to Phil’s, his leg shifting so that he was nearly straddling Phil. Warm, firm hands gripped Dan’s hips, lifting and pulling until Dan was fully in Phil’s lap.

“Fuck,” Dan moaned against Phil’s lips, painfully turned on by the way Phil was fucking manhandling him. Dan wanted more, needed to be closer, so he tangled his hands in Phil’s quiff, bracing his elbows against Phil’s shoulders so that he could lean up and kiss Phil harder. Phil’s hands crept under Dan’s tight jumper, and his nails dug into Dan’s waist, making Dan hyper aware of every single one of Phil’s fingers.

Phil’s touch on Dan’s bare sides was electrifying, and a surge of pleasure shot up Dan’s spine. Needing to do something with the heat that was radiating from every inch of his body, Dan found himself grinding his hips down into Phil’s.

“Yeah, baby,” Phil slurred, pulling roughly and guiding Dan to rock his hips forward again. Phil felt so fucking good beneath Dan, solid, warm, and — jesus — growing hard.

Dan’s cock had calmed down some while Phil had fetched their drinks, but the friction of Phil’s hips, the tease of Phil’s hard on, made it swell in interest again.

Tearing his lips away from Phil’s, Dan latched onto Phil’s neck and sucked hard, hard enough to surely leave another mark. Those could be tomorrow’s problem to worry about. Dan worked his way higher, leaving a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses up Phil’s neck. Phil’s fingers were digging into Dan’s hips, and it was fucking intoxicating — more so than the champagne and whiskey and whatever else they were going to drink could ever be.

“You —” Phil started, his words cut off by a loud gasp as Dan sucked on what must have been a particularly sensitive spot — Dan made a mental note, because he definitely wanted to make Phil do that again. “You look s’good like this,” Phil mumbled.

“Phhhh—” Dan moaned, unable to even get Phil’s name out. The compliment felt like a physical wave of pleasure rushing through Dan’s body, making him feel hot all over. Phil was so fucking right about that whole praise thing.

Dan caught the lobe of Phil’s ear in his mouth, letting his teeth graze over it and his tongue dart out to flick it. Pushing up just a hair, Dan slid his hands from Phil’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders, and down to his chest. Dan couldn't resist bunching Phil’s shirt in his fists, massaging over Phil’s nipples with his thumbs.

“Good, because when we get back to the hotel room,” Dan whispered into Phil’s ear, “I wanna ride you.”

“Fuck,” Phil cursed, his hand rucking Dan’s jumper up high enough that his fingers stroked the bottom of Dan’s ribcage. “Yeah, okay.”

Surprised at how easily Phil had agreed, Dan pulled back to look him in the eyes. “Wait, really? You’re cool with that being how we fuck tonight?”

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil mumbled, his hands tracing rough lines up and down the naked skin of Dan’s waist. “You have no idea how sexy you look above me. Trust me, I definitely want to see you like this, filled up with my cock.”

Dan’s cock twitched, and he had to restrain himself from rocking forward again. “Jesus, Phil,” Dan panted, his hands gripping Phil’s shoulders tightly as he tried to hold onto some grain of composure. “You can’t just say shit like that.”

“And why’s that?” Phil teased, his thumbs dragging back and forth across Dan’s ribs, the feeling absolutely heavenly. It was somehow hot and tender at the same time, and Dan wanted more more more.

“You know why, you fucking asshole,” Dan grumbled, leaning back down to kiss along Phil’s neck. Dan was beginning to accept that Phil was right, but that didn’t mean he wanted to actually admit it out loud.

“You ‘n your praise kink make this too fucking easy,” Phil murmured, half panting, half chuckling.

“Don’t take ‘vantage of me,” Dan mumbled jokingly into Phil’s neck, lightly nipping at Phil’s shoulder.

Properly laughing this time, Phil slid his hands down to Dan’s hips and used his leverage to push him back. The momentum forced Dan all the way back to Phil’s knees — something Dan was thoroughly disgruntled about. But then one of Phil’s hands left Dan’s waist and thumbed over his cheek, a soft and fond look on his face, and Dan couldn’t help but melt. He might have been horny and hot, but he was so damn enamoured that the tender gesture affected him just as much as the grinding and wandering hands had.

“If we keep down this path, I’m gonna have a hard time keeping m’hands to myself,” Phil teased, a playful smirk toying at his lips. His other hand dipped into Dan’s jeans and stroked the long, prominent bone of his hip, as if to prove his point. Fuck, just Phi’s fingers on his hip was enough to drive Dan fucking mad, he didn’t know how he was going to manage to get through the night and back to their hotel without losing control.

“How ‘bout we dance for a bit?” Phil proposed suddenly. Shocked and unable to process Phil’s suggestion, Dan snapped his head back and stared down at Phil with bleary eyes, blinking slowly. The fuck?

Dancing? Right, okay. Dan could be up for dancing. But...

Dan glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the club, confused. Just like he remembered, there wasn’t exactly room for dancing anywhere. However, Dan noticed that there were several couples that were making out, feeling each other up, grinding hips desperately together.

“Uh, where?” Dan questioned skeptically. From his quick glance around, it seemed like dancing would actually draw more attention to them than snogging in a dark corner.

“Dance floor. Downstairs,” Phil explained, his head nodding toward the opposite corner. Dan followed the direction of Phil’s nod, noticing a dimly lit staircase for the first time. Of course — a lot of clubs separated sitting areas from dancing areas, Dan’s tipsy brain had just been too out of it to process.

“Sounds good,” Dan mumbled in agreement, dipping down to kiss at Phil’s neck one more time before he had to climb out of Phil’s lap. “We should have somethin’ else t’drink first, though. I’m a rubbish dancer,” he chuckled. It wasn’t entirely true, but Phil didn’t have to know that just yet.

The excuse sounded better than I wanna be drunk and free with you. Plus, maybe Dan’s decent dancing would be a pleasant surprise later.

Phil’s hand slipped out from Dan’s shirt, and ran up his chest. “How ‘bout you take our jackets to the coat check an’ I’ll order us something else t’drink, baby?” Phil suggested, his tone not really leaving room for Dan to argue as his hands dipped under Dan’s leather jacket, carefully shrugging it off his shoulders.

Dan’s jacket caught around his biceps, hanging from his arms in the gayest of fashions and he loved it. He wiggled his knees backwards until he was hovering above Phil’s hips and could easily rest his feet on the floor.

“Alright, let’s go then,” Dan agreed, backing off Phil entirely and holding one hand out to help him off the sofa. Dan was excited to dance, it would give him something a little less slutty to do with all his energy. Grabbing Phil’s jacket, Dan nodded once at Phil before heading back down the deserted hallway from earlier — only now it wasn’t as deserted. Dan passed three couples heatedly kissing before he even got to the coat check booth. But then again, surely snogging in public wasn’t that slutty if this many people were doing it.

Smiling at the employee, Dan dropped Phil’s denim jacket onto the small ledge and shrugged out of his own leather one, not bothering to tuck his phone into his pants pocket before he handed it to the guy across the bar. Tonight was about letting go, and the only person who could really need him had Phil’s number now.

Dan took the coat-check number from the worker, tucking it into his back pocket, and made his way back to the bar. Phil was standing at the far end, twisted around and watching for Dan.

And fuck, he looked good. Sometime while Dan had been gone, Phil had loosened up a little bit. The top four buttons of his shirt were undone, and his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, and god help Dan because he was pretty sure he was about to come in his fucking pants. Phil looked so goddamn seductive leaning back against the bar like that, his shirt dipping down, his chest peeking out, his forearms taut.

Phil was gorgeous and sexy and so entirely manly — Dan couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of Phil that Dan realized that there were no cocktails — no, instead there were two double shots in front of Phil, plus a small plate of lime wedges and a salt shaker. Tequila, then.

“Get ov’r here, mister,” Phil demanded, a smile on his face as he made grabby hands for Dan. Fucking hell, it should be illegal for someone to be so sexy and so cute at the same time. Dan could only handle so much, and his cock and his heart were competing for blood at this point. “I ordered us shots.”

“Shots, huh?” Dan teased, one hand coming to rest on the bar on the outside of Phil’s hip. “A simple drink wasn’t good enough for you, then?”

“I figured neither of us could manage a drink an’ dancing a’the same time.” Phil shrugged with a smile, turning back toward the bar and letting his arse grind into Dan’s hips as he pulled their shots closer to them.

Fuck. Phil really knew how to play Dan.

“Come here,” Phil murmured as he twisted back around, his hands landing on Dan’s hips. In one smooth movement, Phil spun them around and switched their positions. Before Dan could fully process the change, his waist was pressing into the bar and Phil’s crotch was digging into his arse. “Take a shot with me.”

Phil’s voice was deep and gruff, and the scratchiness of it made Dan’s stomach flip over and over in desire. He bloody adored how Phil was taking care of him tonight, somehow perfectly in charge of all of Dan’s needs, intuitively aware of what Dan would find the sexiest and most fun at any given moment.

Dan reached for a tequila shot with one hand, his other grabbing a lime. Realizing his mistake — it was salt, tequila, lime, after all — Dan dropped his lime in favor of reaching for the salt shaker. Phil beat him to it, though, licking a long stripe up his own hand and shaking two small mounds of salt along the line.

“Here,” Phil murmured into Dan’s ear, bringing his hand level with Dan’s mouth.

Not hesitating to check their surroundings or respond, Dan surged forward and sucked the salt off Phil’s hand. Phil moved quickly, his head dipping forward and licking his hand at the same time as Dan, their cheeks pressing together. Simultaneously, they both lifted their shots to their mouths, tipping the tequila down their throat. Behind him, Dan could feel Phil gulp, could feel his neck and his chest and his stomach move as he swallowed the alcohol.

Phil got to the lime first, holding it in front of Dan’s lips. Leaning forward, Dan sucked the lime into his mouth, taking care to drag his lips along Phil’s fingers as well. Soft vibrations rumbled against Dan’s back, and it took his drunken brain a second to realize that they were from Phil moaning.

Phil dropped the lime to the bar and reached for the other wedge, but Dan knocked his hand out of the way. It was his turn.

Grabbing the second wedge, Dan spun around to face Phil. Dan tried his intoxicated best to arrange his face into a seductive look as he held the wedge up to Phil’s mouth and nudged it against his lips. Maybe it was successful, because Dan glanced up at Phil’s eyes and saw that his pupils were wide and dark. He looked hungry, Dan thought, but it wasn’t for the lime.

Regardless, Phil parted his lips and sucked on it, pulling the tips of Dan’s fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, too.

Fucking hell, no wonder Phil had moaned when Dan had done that. Now that Dan’s fingers were in Phil’s mouth, now that Phil’s tongue was licking along his skin, Dan couldn’t help but imagine something else in Phil’s mouth, and — fuck.

Pulling back off the wedge with a loud pop, Phil smirked at Dan, linking their hands together under the bar. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yeah,” Dan agreed, breathless, carelessly dropping the lime back to the plate and letting Phil tug him along. Together, they weaved through the aisles of sofas to the steep staircase leading to the mystery basement.

When they reached the stairs, Phil dropped Dan’s hand, opting to grab the handrail instead. Rightfully so, too. The steps were steep and winding, and Dan was sure that even Sober Him would struggle. Dan followed, holding tight to the railing and sticking close to Phil.

Less than halfway down, the twisting was already fucking with Dan’s drunken head, nearly making him stumble and fall. Luckily, the staircase was narrow and Phil was directly in front of him, so Dan was able to catch himself before he tumbled out of control.

After what seemed like forever, they rounded the last twist and the stairs opened up to a packed dance floor. The music was a million times louder down here, the lights flashing and moving, subtle fog machines trying to make the whole place scream sexy. Everywhere Dan looked, there were men dancing, grinding, kissing. It was the kind of place he hadn’t gotten to indulge in since his late teens, and he was suddenly incredibly eager to embrace the atmosphere.

Stepping around Phil, Dan grabbed Phil by the hand and drug him out to the dance floor. They weaved passed couple after couple until they were packed into the middle of the crowd, disappearing into plain sight thanks to the drunk dancers surrounding them.

Dan spun around to face Phil, alcohol causing the world to blur around the edges. It took a second for Dan’s eyes to focus again, and when they did, he realized that Phil was blatantly checking him out. The way Phil was looking at him, with wide pupils and parted lips, made Dan feel like the sexiest guy in the room — maybe even in all of New York.

“C’mere,” Phil demanded, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. His message was clear though; there was no mistaking what Phil wanted when he grabbed Dan’s hips and pulled him in close. Dan stumbled forward willingly, and he had a feeling he’d walk straight across the threshold to hell if Phil guided him. On instinct, Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck; they were close — so, so close. Their chests were just centimeters apart, their hands spread wide like they were trying to touch as much of each other as they could. Together, they started to move in time to the thumping bass of the music.

Dan giggled, drunk and horny and maybe just a little bit slap-happy.

What? Phil mouthed with furrowed brows and an amused smile.

Dan smiled and stepped closer so he could try to explain; their chests were touching now and Dan could feel Phil dancing. Dan leaned in so that he could yell directly into Phil’s ear. “I feel like I’m back at my year eight dance.” Dan tugged on the hair at the nape of Phil’s neck and pointedly wiggled his hips, hoping Phil would telepathically understand Dan’s logic.

Phil laughed, loud and shameless, with his tongue poking out and his eyes nearly closed. He looked happy and gorgeous and Dan’s heart was beating in a way that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with the minute amount of physical exercise.

Smile still plastered on his face, Phil pulled Dan impossibly closer, causing their hips to crash together, and god Dan loved how their hips felt when they were pressed together. He could have sworn he could feel the outline of Phil’s cock, and it only made him more excited for later.

“Only if you got kicked out,” Phil teased, his hands dropping down to Dan’s arse and squeezing, as if to prove his point. And yeah, that move was definitely forbidden back in year eight. Maybe it was a good thing too, because thirteen-year-old Dan might’ve fucking cum in his pants if someone did that to him then. Fucking hell, twenty-three-year-old Dan was on the verge of doing so, maybe the club should be a little more regulated.

Maybe a touch too late, Dan vehemently shook his head — grinding at dances wasn’t even remotely his life at thirteen. At thirteen, Dan was sexually confused and his only quality friendship was Louise. (Although, four years later, Dan was much less confused and was actively looking for just about anyone who would pop his cherry.)

Now, though, Dan was entirely comfortable with his sexual preferences, even if he did waiver between labels from time to time. At the very least, Dan could say with complete confidence that he was fucking attracted to the man in front of him, and he was fucking hot for the fact that they were surrounded by other gay couples.

And now that Phil’s hands were on his arse, pulling him closer so that their hips, their cocks, rubbed together, Dan couldn’t think about anything else.

So Dan let go. He let the champagne and the whiskey and the tequila take over, let his inhibitions fade away. The music was so loud that Dan could feel it in his soul, the remixed-nineties music just familiar enough to make Dan feel like he knew what he was doing, the added beats just fast enough to make him feel sexy. Hands still tangled around Phil’s neck, Dan pushed his hips forward and rocked them against Phi’s.

His hips moved on their own accord, swaying and grinding and moving in time with the music. Phil moved with him, their crotches rubbing together over and over as remixed versions of TLC, Christina Aguilera, and Destiny’s Child pulsed around them. It was hot, god it was hot. The dance floor was so packed, so anonymous, and Dan couldn’t hold back from closing the fucking microscopic amount of distance between them, kissing Phil over and over again as the night grew later and later.

At some point, Phil twisted Dan around. It came almost out of nowhere — one minute they were grinding together, and the next, Phil was manhandling Dan, shifting their positions so that Phil’s semi-hard cock was rubbing against Dan’s arse, and fucking hell that was hot. Some bassed-up version of Baby Got Back was playing, so loud that the song was almost all-consuming. The sober recesses of Dan’s mind tried to remind him of that scene from Friends, the one where Ross and Rachel sang this to their infant and offended each other, but the drunk and horny parts of Dan were far too focused on the way Phil was grinding into his arse, the way Phil’s hands were sliding further and further down his hips, to properly process anything about the music. Phil rubbed his hands over and over the front of Dan’s hips, pulling him closer and grazing his cock with every pass. Moaning, Dan let his head fall back onto Phil’s shoulder, and Phil’s neck was right there, so of course Dan mouthed along it. The music was too loud to hear much of anything over it, but Dan could feel Phil’s throat vibrate with a moan, could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his hips the slightest bit harder. They were touching everywhere, flushed together from head to toe and Phil felt like Dan’s whole world tonight.

Dan rocked his hips back, soaking up the heady sensation of Phil’s cock rubbing against him, feeling more and more intoxicated off lust than alcohol by the second. Trying not to overthink it, Dan reached behind himself and wrapped his arm around Phil’s neck, his fingers tangling in the short hair at the back of Phil’s head.

The breath was nearly knocked out of Dan when Phil pushed up Dan’s short shirtsleeve with his mouth, and kissed along his inner bicep as he drug his lips up Dan’s arm. Fucking hell, Dan was definitely about to combust and cum on the spot if Phil kept doing that. Phil’s lips latched onto Dan’s arm, sucking and surely leaving a mark and fuck Dan had never been so glad to have worn a short sleeve shirt as he was right now.

Once again, the music shifted, and the iconic first notes of Britney rung out. Within seconds, Dan recognized the song, and given how Phil’s fingers tightened on his hips, he reckoned Phil did, too. And god, he wanted to look at Phil while they danced to this.

Dan tried to twist around, and Phil’s grip loosened just enough to let him move, his fingers dragging deliciously over Dan’s skin as he turned. They readjusted quickly, Dan’s arms wrapping around Phil’s neck and Phil’s hands lowering to grope Dan’s arse.

“Baby, can’t you see,” Dan murmured huskily into Phil’s ear, his tongue darting out to lick Phil’s earlobe. Slowly, sensually, Dan slipped his arms from Phil’s neck and dragged his hands across Phil’s chest. He moved slowly, his fingernails raking across Phil’s shirt, pausing to rub at Phil’s nipples.

“Jesus, babe,” Phil mumbled, the words barely more than a strangled groan. The fingers on Dan’s arse tightened, forcefully pulling until Dan’s hips were grinding against Phil’s. Their cocks rubbed together, and Dan rocked his hips again, desperate to feel and feel and feel.

Phil was half hard, and so was Dan, and the friction was amazing. Pleasure shot through Dan, his cock twitching and a quiet moan tumbling from his lips. Dan couldn’t resist tangling his fingers in Phil’s hair, dragging him just the slightest bit closer, not that there was really much distance left between them.

The music continued to pound around them, and Dan continued to rock his hips forward in time with the beat. He wanted so much, and the grinding was just a small tease. Through the fabric, Dan could feel Phil growing harder and harder, making Dan want more. Heat and desire and lust were building in the pit of Dan’s stomach, and he just fucking wanted.

He wanted to taste Phil’s cock in his mouth. He wanted to feel Phil’s bare cock throbbing against his own. He wanted to be stretched around Phil, full and satisfied.

This song — this song out of all the late-nineties and early-two-thousands songs — fucking got to Dan. And he didn’t think it was fully his fault, it wasn’t like he had a thing for it three months ago. But then, one of the earliest videos he’d watched on AmazingPhil was Phil dancing half naked to this song — there was really no coming back from that.

Dan kissed up Phil’s neck, coming to a stop just a short centimeter from Phil’s ear. “Ya know,” he started huskily. He could feel Phil’s fingers dig into his arse, could see how Phil’s breath hitched. Mischievously, Dan continued, “I jacked off to this video.”

The effect was immediate — Phil froze and inhaled so sharply that Dan could actually hear the gasp over the music. For a second, the world was frozen; it was just Dan staring at Phil, a smug smirk on his face, and Phil staring back, shocked and wide-eyed.

And then Phil’s lips crashed onto Dan’s, moving insistently, hotly, and the world was moving again.

The kiss was merciless, Phil’s tongue immediately licking at Dan’s lips and demanding entrance — not that Dan was complaining. He opened his mouth and let Phil in, let Phil ravage him. Phil’s hands disappeared from Dan’s arse, only to land on his cheeks, firmly holding his head in place so Phil could kiss him harder.

There was no air in Dan’s lungs, and he didn’t give a single fuck. The shortness of breath only made everything hotter, and jesus that was a kink Dan didn’t think he had, but then again, he might find any kink hot if it was with Phil. Phil was so in control, so hungry, so domineering, and Dan couldn’t get enough of it.

Phil pulled back without warning, leaving Dan a panting mess. They were so, so close, and Phil’s eyes were nothing but black pupils. He looked ready to fucking devour Dan, and Dan really hadn’t expected this strong of a response but he was living for it. It was making him feel wanted and sexy.

“We’re going,” Phil snapped, his hands roughly unwinding Dan’s arms from his neck. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

Phil’s words were sharp, making it clear that this wasn’t a request. He sounded like he was on the verge of losing control, looked like he might shove Dan against the nearest wall, and take him right then and there.

Their fingers tangled together and Phil spun around, dragging Dan behind him as he pushed his way through the dancing crowd. It was a good thing Phil was holding Dan so tightly, because he was moving so fast that Dan might have gotten lost if their hands got separated.

Phil didn’t stop moving until they’d made it up the stairs, all the way past the sofas and down the hallway. They came to an abrupt halt in front of the coat check window and — shit, right. Their jackets.

Dan dug through his pockets, searching for the tiny ticket that he’d shoved somewhere. Phil’s heavy stare wasn’t helping, only making him feel more flustered and rushed and desperate to get the fuck out of there already.

“Dan,” Phil said, a hint of reprimand and urgency in his voice that spurred Dan to move faster. His fingers finally closed around the small slip, and he wrangled it out, holding it up triumphantly. Phil ripped the ticket out of Dan’s hand, his only response a single approving nod. Phil slammed it down on the counter, his eyes never once drifting from Dan’s.

The coat check worker chuckled — it was probably perfectly clear what was going on. But even that wasn’t enough to drag Phil’s eyes away from Dan. Dan swallowed thickly, his mouth dry, as he held Phil’s gaze. He couldn’t fucking think with Phil looking at him like that. Struck dumb, Dan licked his lips as he waited to see what would happen next.

Phil’s grip was still tight, and he tugged on Dan’s hand. Drunk and caught off guard, Dan stumbled forward, colliding with Phil.

“You’re so sexy,” Phil whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard. “I can’t wait t’fuck you.”

Dan whimpered, fucking whimpered. Phil was so much filthier than his new videos made him seem, he was dirty in all the right ways. Although, looking back, Dan could see some of this Phil in the much younger Phil that had filmed the Toxic video.

The rustling of their jackets hitting the counter jolted Dan and Phil out of their bubble. Both of their heads snapped to face the window, and Dan could tell his cheeks were probably flushed red. He’d forgotten that there was someone else nearby, that someone else was probably paying proper attention to them.

Phil reached out to pull the bundle of clothes closer, clearly avoiding looking at the coat check person. “Put this on s’we can leave,” Phil ordered, shoving Dan’s leather jacket into his chest.

Dan didn’t need telling twice; he sprung into action and clumsily shrugged into his jacket, his hands getting caught several times. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the alcohol or lust, but he didn’t care.

Phil slapped a few bills on the counter and grabbed his own coat.

“Thanks boys,” the clerk said cheerfully. “Have a good night! Don’t forget protection!”

Oh god. Dan felt his cheeks grow hot. He didn’t mind people noticing him and Phil were itching to fuck, but christ, he really didn’t expect a random stranger to actually say it.

Phil grumbled something in response, something Dan didn’t quite hear or process, and guided Dan back down the hallway, one hand firmly pressed against Dan’s lower back.

Hot breath washed over Dan’s ear, and he belatedly realized that Phil was close. “I really don’t wanna use a condom,” Phil muttered into his ear. Dan’s breath hitched, and Phil’s fingers curled around to his sides, not giving him a chance to recover before continuing. “Wanna feel you ‘n fill you up.”

“Fuck,” Dan huffed, his mind not able to think about anything other than Phil’s bare cock pressed into him, pumping cum deep into his arse. “Yeah, please. ‘M clean.”

“Good,” Phil said with a note of finality. He opened the club door and ushered Dan through it. Dan stopped just outside the entrance, hovering and waiting for direction from Phil. Phil stood close, head bowed as he tapped on his phone. Dan looked around them, realizing that there was a line now, and the asshole bouncer from earlier was gone. Must have been after one, then.

“Ugh,” Phil groaned. “There’s a twen’y minute wait for’n uber.”

God that was so much longer than Dan wanted to wait. Brows furrowed, Dan glanced up at the street sign.

“We’re only like seven blocks from the hotel, w’can walk faster,” Dan pointed out.

“How’dya know that?” Phil asked, head snapping up, looking surprised.

Dan pointed to the numbered street sign. “Grid system. Let’s go,” Dan suggested, nodding his head in the right direction.

“Perfect,” Phil mumbled. He grabbed Dan’s hand and started walking. His pace wasn’t quite as fast as earlier, something Dan was rather grateful for. He didn’t think he could walk that quickly for seven blocks and not be too out of breath for sex.

The first block, Phil was still walking faster than normal, though. It wasn’t until they reached the first crosswalk and were forced to stop that they both breathed. The break calmed some of the out-of-control desire coursing through Dan’s veins, dulling it down to a pulsing lust. Dan turned to look at Phil, his eyes surely full of fond desire, a smile definitely pulling at his lips.

Phil bounced on his toes for a second, his movements slowing down when the light didn’t immediately change. Phil glanced at Dan, his heady expression melting slightly into something a bit softer, a bit more gentle. The passion and want were still there, but now there was something else, something sweeter, there too.

Now that they were out of the club, free from the throbbing bass of the music and away from the grinding couples, Dan’s mind felt a little clearer. It was chilly out, not quite cold but definitely cool enough that Dan felt justified leaning into Phil a bit, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder and sticking close. Phil smiled down at him fondly as Dan looked up at him through his lashes. The world around seemed to fade away, and there were butterflies fluttering in Dan’s stomach and god how was Phil so sexy and dominate and sweet all in the span of five minutes, this had to be illegal.

Dan’s eyes snapped away when the crosswalk chimed, and suddenly they were walking again. They weren’t the only ones out — if anything, there seemed to be more people on the streets now. As they made their way back to their hotel, they passed club after club, bar after bar, all with lines of drunk twenty-somethings.

Some sober, less reckless part of Dan warned him that all the people meant a higher chance of getting recognized, but he just didn’t care. He wasn’t about to stop and talk to a fan right now. It was Friday night, and the whole city seemed to be intoxicated, and Dan would just have to hope that everyone else was too drunk to notice him.

They came to stop at another intersection, just barely missing the chance to cross. Dan glanced around, taking in the city surrounding them. There was a group of girls nearby, smoking and drinking something out of brown paper bags. There were a few people outside a pizza place, drunkenly eating slices of pizza off white paper plates as they sat on the curb. There was a couple across the way, fighting loudly about something Dan couldn’t make out.

It was late and crowded and everyone was too focused on themselves to take note of anyone else. It was the kind of crowd that made everyone anonymous. The neon city lights were blurry, and made it hard to see the details of anything — although maybe that part was just Dan.

Regardless, he didn't care.

Phil was so close, so warm by Dan’s side and Dan just wanted more.

“Kiss me,” Dan asked, nearly begged, as he looked back at Phil. His voice was high and nearly breathless, so affected that he probably would have been embarrassed by how fucking needy he sounded if the situation had been different. But as it was, this was Phil, Phil who seemed to instinctively understand every single desire Dan had.

Phil smiled at Dan softly, turning so they were face to face. Without hesitation, Phil closed the distance between them, doing as Dan asked. Phil kissed him slowly but thoroughly, his lips moving languidly, his tongue slipping between Dan’s teeth and licking along the roof of his mouth.

“Mmm,” Dan hummed into Phil’s mouth as he wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, his elbows resting on Phil’s shoulders, wrists crossed behind his head.

Phil’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, but he kept kissing, his arms wrapping around Dan’s waist and pulling him closer.

It was hot — kissing Phil would always be hot — but it was also sweet and maybe even a little romantic. Dan had never kissed someone on the street until Isabella, and in hindsight, everything about those kisses had been for the wrong reasons. This kiss, right now with Phil, wasn’t for pizza eaters or smokers or fighters. This kiss had nothing to do with the audience, and everything to do with the fact that Dan was so fucking head over heels for Phil that Dan couldn’t couldn’t resist kissing him for the two minutes it took for the crosswalk light to change.

At some point, Louise had told him that all of this was so much better when you loved someone, and Dan was realizing how right she was because just kissing had never been this good.

Love.

The word crashed over Dan, suddenly the only thing he could think as he drunkenly kissed his boyfriend in the middle of New York City at two in the morning.

Dan loved Phil.

Dan was one hundred percent, completely and totally in love with the boy kissing him.

Gasping, Dan pulled back from the kiss, his eyes flying open.

“What?” Phil asked breathlessly, a note of urgency in his voice.

“I — nothing.” Dan swallowed thickly, there was no way he could say what he was thinking. Not now, not already. His gaze drifted over Phil’s shoulder and caught on the signal, which was now showing a white walking man. “We can cross now.”

Dan hoped his voice was steady, hoped it wasn’t obvious that his mind was somewhere, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t very subtle. If Phil noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He just followed Dan into the street, one arm still wrapped around his waist, holding Dan close as they continued walking. Dan leaned into Phil’s side, stumbling slightly and focusing entirely too much on the way Phil’s fingers had dipped under his shirt and were thumbing over his side, and not nearly enough of the sidewalk.

Yeah, Dan was definitely in love with him.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phandom #phan au #barista!phil #singer!dan #au #coffeeshop au #ly #love yourself #ly 32 #iminclinedtowriting #mine

[littlewerewolfsmutoven-blog]

A Real Wolf Show-Pony

Explicit | 2,914 words | camboy!derek | archive of our own

Derek Hale had always been something akin to an enigma. There were a lot of things that remained secret about him, his life, his interests, his emotions. Sure, the pack knew certain things....Derek was a werewolf, an alpha, a total cauldron of broody brew. But that was just about it.

For Stiles, there had always been a couple questions about Derek that just always seemed to be off-limits — 1. what was Derek’s sexual orientation and 2. how in hell did Derek afford one of the nicest penthouse lofts in the city, despite seemingly having no legitimate occupation? They were good questions, but remained locked away and unanswered in the back of Stiles’ mind...

Until the universe decided to work some of its magic.

Stiles was in his bedroom, cooped up at his desk, boxers around his ankles — cruising the internet for something to entice him enough to masturbate. Now, he had only ventured onto one of those shoddy cam-guy websites a few times, but a craving came around, so Stiles decided that he’d give it a go. There really wasn’t anything to lose and if he ended up finding it intolerable, there was always dozens and dozens other free-porn sites.

As he was scrolling through the “LIVE” cam-guys, Stiles casually scrolled through the available thumbnails, waiting for something to catch his eyes. At first, nothing was doing the job. Everything looked boring...but then Stiles saw one thumbnail with Derek. Fucking. Hale—lounging around on a chair, shirtless, and stroking his cock.

Suddenly, the stupid cam-guy website got a whole hell of a lot more interesting.

Stiles clicked his way into the chat that coincided with the cam-guy’s thumbnail, surprised to find that it wasn’t some sort of virus bait. It was real. He was watching Derek—in real time—stroking his cock for a chatroom of about five-hundred other individuals. And Stiles throbbed at the visual—a full on spurt of airborne precum shot out and splattered against the screen of his laptop.  

This...was way too good to enjoy by his lonesome. Stiles wanted to get somebody else in the action. It was the perfect opportunity to get down into some kind of fun. Derek was one of the hottest dudes in Beacon Hills. Nobody could disagree. Everybody probably wanted to fuck him. If the situation presented itself, Stiles wouldn’t turn it down...and neither would any of the other pack-members.

Stiles stood up from his desk chair and grabbed his laptop, kicking off the pair of boxers that had been at his ankles, and then eagerly rushed out of his bedroom to the living room so that he could get his housemate into the action. Derek jerking himself off for an audience on the internet was way too good to just let slip away with having some fun first.  

“Scotty, you have to fucking see this!” Stiles shouted, crashing down onto the couch right beside where Scott was sitting.

“Well, I can’t see anything because you jizzed up the screen.” Scott commented, gesturing to the spurt of precum that had blurred the live-stream of the cam-guy performer.

“Oh—” Stiles deflated, swiping the pre-cum away from his laptop screen with his thumb, before quickly popping his thumb into his mouth. “Okay, now look. Are you seeing this too? Or am I fucking tripping out?”

“Holy shit, dude!” Scott laughed. “Is this real — like, Derek’s actually doing this right now?”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, he’s a cam-dude. And look, he’s got five-hundred perverts clocked in to watch him bust a nut.”

“And we’re two of the perverts!” Scott clapped his hands together and then shucked down his pants, tugging out his cock.

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Stiles cheered giddily.

The two housemates settled themselves in the couch, stuffing the laptop into the allotted space between the both of them so that they both could see what Derek was doing and what the chatroom was saying. Neither of them wasted much time at getting their own hands at their dicks, either. The visual and the overall reality of the situation was too damn hot.

Derek remained in the same position that Stiles had found him in — sitting in a desk chair, jerking his dick. He occasionally laughed and quickly answered some of the one-off comments that poured into the chat. Most of the comments were compliments and directions: “ur hot af, bro!”, “lemme drain your balls!”, “flex your arms!”, “show us your pits!”....it was a firestorm of sex and seeing Derek so comfortable and chilled out about the whole thing was somewhat weird.

“I didn’t think he’d pack something that big.” Scott commented, stroking his dick.

Stiles snickered, thumbing at the head of his own cock. “You’re lame. Of course he was hung. Have you never paid attention to the way he walks?”

“I thought his pants were just too tight.”

“Yeah, that too...but like, that dick must get all squeezed and stuck in all kinds of uncomfortable positions when he’s trying to walk or run or stand around.”

Stiles and Scott continued to pleasure themselves, but neither of them were concerned with pulling themselves towards an orgasm. Instead, they took things slow and casual—laughing and cracking jokes whilst they kept special attention to Derek’s display of entertainment on the laptop screen. It was fun...kind of interesting....a definite topic for discussion.

It was incredibly strange watching Derek act so differently than expected. The man was a total walking bucket of broodiness just from day-to-day...but on the chatroom sex-cam, he was playful and bright and soft. There was an aura of casualness that seemed to radiate off of him. To watch Derek just sit back, all stretched-out, shirtless, hardened cock pulled out of a pair of track-pants—smiling and following all of the quick directions that got typed into the chat.

“Man, when you do think he’s gonna show his ass?” Stiles asked, overly dramatic and slightly frustrated.

“I don’t know — he’s been asked like twenty times by some of these other dudes.” Scott noted. “But it doesn’t look like he’s budging on the request.”

“So....what—?” Stiles scoffed. “He’s Dick-Tease Derek?”

Scott chuckled. “Ask him, dude.”

Stiles threw his hands up in surrender, laughing slightly as he picked the laptop up from the couch and set it back down into his lap. Anonymous guests in the cam-chat got a singular free message to type to a performer, whilst premium guests got unlimited questions to ask. Stiles wasn’t the “pay” kind of guy when it came to porn, especially not cam-shows. So he figured he’d use up his free comment for something important.

[ScrumptiousStyle]: “Hey, dick-tease. Nice dick, but I’m an ass guy. When are you gonna bend over and show us that thick ass?”

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Scott shouted, slapping his hand against Stiles’ shoulder. “He’s not gonna show us anything if you talk to him like that.”

“No — look.” Stiles alerted, pointing towards the influx of chat messages. Derek had responded, relatively quickly, providing some sort of help.

[DhaleBH]: “@ scrumptiousstyle, I don’t show that to just anybody. You gotta shell out the private room fee for that. $150. You wanna see this ass? Pay to play.”

“Fucker...” Stiles muttered, setting his laptop back down. “Is this how he pays for that loft? By ripping off poor horny college dudes with exorbitant ass-shot prices?”

“We should get a discount.”

Scott stood up from where he was sitting on the couch, wandering across the room to where his backpack was slouched down against the wooden television stand. He picked it up and rummaged through the contents for a moment, until he successfully fished his wallet out from the collection of crumbled papers and textbooks.

“Wait—are you actually gonna pay for this?” Stiles called out to Scott, looking down once more at the listed price for a private chat room, and then back up to Scott’s wallet. “This is basically robbery.”

“You wanna see Derek’s ass, right?” Scott asked, tossing his wallet across the room—striking Stiles square in the chest. “Well, he’s never gonna spread it for us outside of this chat, so come on. Pony up half the fee, we’ll watch Derek twerk for us, we’ll bust some loads, and it’ll be worth every penny.”

Scott was technically speaking the truth. Derek was such a prude when it came down to real life...there was no way in Hell that he’d ever show off his ass. Derek always hid it away inside of those tight jeans he wore, which were so tight that his ass barely got to even bounce around with movement and gravity.

Once the two were both settled back down onto the couch, Stiles pulled the laptop back into his control. He pulled up the payment window that was available inside of the chat, quickly entering in Scott’s debit card information, before submitting the finalized payment. When it was all said and done, Stiles laughed to himself, handing his roomie back the wallet and card.

It didn’t take long before Derek decided to react to the hefty payment. The public chat grayed out — kicking all of the other users out of the chatroom, effectively shifting everything into a private stream for Stiles and Scott’s pleasure. Meanwhile, Derek seemed to prepare himself for the show. He sat up straight in his desk chair and then started clacking away at his keyboard, typing out something.

[DhaleBH]: “You really must wanna see what I’ve got.”

[Scrumptiousstyle]: “Yeah....for $150 dollars, you better put that shit on display! That was some of our rent money.”

[DhaleBH]: “our??? Oh, so you’re watching w/ some friends?”

[Scrumptiousstyle]: “Just me and my roommate, two horny dudes, jerking off to you, dude...so are you gonna give us our money’s worth or not?”

Derek snickered, thumbing at his lip. He was somewhat impressed and visibly aroused by the demanding nature of the two charitable viewers. But instead of typing out something snarky in return, he got on with the show. He stood up from the desk chair that he had been sitting down in, giving the camera a particularly lewd shot of his dripping cock—which was still jutting out from above the waistband of his track pants.

He shoved the desk chair out of the way and maneuvered his camera around, pointing it in the direction of his bed. He needed more room to showcase what his private viewers had paid for. And surely, to the viewers’ satisfaction, Derek hopped up onto his mattress with a soft bounce—his back faced towards the camera, muscles sharp and flexed, with his clothed ass in frame.

Derek started to swivel his hips around, bending forward, arching his back, and letting the globes of his ass wobble with quick movement. Stiles and Scott started back with stroking their own cocks, attentive and receptive. Both of them watched the cam-show performance play out before them—mentally spun around with near disbelief. Derek was so comfortable with putting on his show for what he assumed to be total strangers.

Eventually, Derek looked back over his shoulder into the camera—flashing his anonymous viewers a quick smile—before he hooked the tips of his fingers into the waistband of his track pants and slowly pulled them downward. Stiles and Scott’s jaw dropped and their tongues practically hung out, sloppy with salivation, like hungry dogs.

Stiles and Scott traded handjobs, reaching over to clasp one of their hands around each other’s dicks. It added to the moment. Both of them wanted to suck as much pleasure as they could from watching the slutty display. Not to mention the fact that the feeling of somebody else’s hand felt way better. They had experimented together before, but it was a rarity. But considering the fact that they had just paid $150 dollars to watch Derek....it was a special kind of occasion.

“Hey, wait—I just thought of something.” Scott interrupted, tugging his hand away from Stiles’ leaking cock.

“Ah, come on dude.” Stiles complained, reluctantly bringing his own hand back to his cock. “I was getting into the moment.

Scott grabbed the laptop and started clacking away on the keyboard. Stiles lazily watched, more focused on what he could still see from Derek’s show. All the while, Scott pulled up some kind of sketchy looking program. Upon further investigation, Stiles was able to see that it was a screen-capture recorder, capable of recording what was was being displayed on the laptop.

“I’m gonna record it.” Scott said, booting up the program. “Then we can replay Derek show us his ass whenever we want.”

“Best money we’ve ever spent!” Stiles cheered, meeting Scott’s hand for a victorious high-five. “Now, get your hand back on my dick.”

Derek pressed forward into the camera, making it so that only the sharpness of his nose and plushness of his mouth were in frame. He made a grand show of sticking a couple of his fingers into the wetness of his mouth, slowly sinking them deeper into the darkness. He sucked on them passionately and lewdly, keeping it as pornographic as he could possibly manage.

And when they were sufficiently slicked up with his spit, Derek flopped backwards onto his mattress — kicking off his track-pants. He laid down onto his back and hoisted up his hairy legs, spreading them gently. Knowing that he had his audience members’ attention, Derek reached down with his spit-slicked fingers until they were in-between his legs, cupped underneath his balls, and right at his puckered entrance.

“Holy shit.” Scott breathed. “Is he actually about to finger himself for us?”

“He fucking better.” Stiles anticipated, gluing his eyes even harder to the laptop’s display.

Sure enough, the two roomies watched as Derek slowly slid two of his fingers into his hole. Derek kept it slow, but deep. He reached way deep into himself, pressing the tips of his fingers into his prostate with each insertion. Stiles and Scott swore that they could actually see sparks flash in Derek’s eyes whenever he pressed into himself....but the two could only imagine how tight he was.

Derek fingerfucked himself good and hard, picking up with pace without apology. His abs flexed intense with each jab and his very hard, very prominent erection stood proudly towards the ceiling — twitching and dripping each time that he fucked his fingers into his ass.

Meanwhile, a sheen of sweat began to glow on Derek’s overworked body. All of his body hair began to mat down with sweat onto the tanned skin of his body. But Derek refused to slow down the precision of his fingers. He continued to fuck up into himself, shouting out slurs and shouts of pleasure into the camera. His legs and feet shook violently and uncontrollably, reacting to the amount of delicious erotic juice that pumped through his veins.

“Do you think he’s about to shoot his load?” Scott asked, squeezing a tad bit harder at Stiles’ leaking cock.

“Yeah — look at his toes. They’re curling. His legs are shaking. His chest is heaving.” Stiles breathed. “And I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

Stiles’ body tightened and his breath quivered, caught under the gracious hold of his best friend. He felt himself explode into Scott’s firm grasp, feeling the ooze of his warm cum ooze over his cockhead and down Scott’s knuckles. Scott didn’t let up on his stroke, he continued to move his hand, pushing Stiles past his point of over-stimulation until there were screams.

But it was fun.

“Derek’s gonna bust.” Scott acknowledged, popping some of the fingers that had been washed over with Stiles’ cum into his mouth. “Hurry up and finish me off. I wanna cum with him.”

Stiles scooped up some of his spent cum and clasped his newly sticky hand around Scott’s prominent girth, pumping up the speed and tightness. As they both kept their attention on Derek’s writhing mass of sweaty muscle, Stiles felt Scott’s body heat surge into the palm of his cum-covered hand. He kept stroking, thumbing over Scott’s cock-slit, and using his inactive hand to cup underneath Scott’s balls to his asshole.

Scott came with an explosive shout—as did Derek. Stiles felt Scott throb into the grasp of his hand, but he elected to watch Derek finger his way through his own orgasm. Whilst he watched whiteness splatter all over Derek’s cut abs, he felt Scott spill over his own knuckles. And yet, Stiles couldn’t tear his eyes away from where Derek’s fat cock throbbed and the sight of Derek’s fingers shoved into the tightness of his ass.

The two watched as Derek sat up from where he had been laid on his back. He stared in the direction of the camera in a simple daze. Spent cum slowly drooled down his washboard abs, catching in the trail of black hair that stretched from Derek’s navel to his crotch. Derek sat there for a moment, catching his breath, and coming down from his orgasm...and then he winked.

Stiles and Scott watched as Derek winked directly into the camera. As they rested against the backing of the couch, they watched Derek reach forward and shut off the livestream, without giving as much as a final “thank you” for the private payment. But instead of scoffing out, Stiles and Scott just snickered to themselves—staring down to where they were both covered in their own cum.

“Dude—” Scott groaned. “—you owe me seventy-five dollars.”

#sterek #sciles

[adultwash276]

Best Dating App For Divorced Moms

Top 4 Best Divorced Dating Apps. When you don’t have time to sit at your computer and explore your options in the dating world, you may want to download a dating app, so you’ll have all your potential dates from the convenience of your own phone! Here are some of our favorites for divorced singles. Dating Apps for Dummies. Lemme start with the obvious: In general, swipe right if you find someone attractive and left to reject them. There are, however, variations on this, and often, a dating app will come up with clever ways to get you to pay money to “super swipe” or see who swiped on you or to go back to someone you passed etc. There are many quality dating apps, but the best dating site for single parents is eharmony. Eharmony reports that more than 2 million users have ‘found love' and in claims that 542 people who met on eharmony marry every day. The newly divorced mom’s guide to online dating. Yes, you can do this. And no, it’s not as scary as it seems. OK, I swore that I would never be one of those people that did it. You know, went online to meet men. I meet people, even men, everyday. That’s not a problem.

But like any popular technology, this one has gone mainstream, dating I increasingly hear app people — both men and women — say they rely on Tinder app dating people with serious relationship potential. It divorce simply another way to connect romantically, and should not be ignored if you want more than a friend with benefits or — divorce you DO want a friend with benefits! This is the fastest-growing dating site, and also tends for skew younger, but that is also changing. Tawkify after itself as a personalized matchmaking service — not a dating app. For site has more than , members, who do not pay, singles who are considered for dates and matching. Customers, on the other hand, pay a fee, and meet with a concierge matchmaker who personally selects potential matches. Each customer meets with their concierge, divorce their preferences and dating goals, and then is presented with a list of potential matches. If the member also agrees on a date, the concierge plans apps schedules a apps date.

Afterwards, feedback from each of app is shared with the other person, and that information is used by Tawkify to app you with dates going forward. This new online dating matchmaking service that bills itself as very elite, as it only accepts a small percentage of applicants, making those accepted seem very special indeed. Potential members are approved based on data from their Facebook and LinkedIn profiles, presumably seeking out daters with higher income and education. The League has been criticized apps requiring members disclose their race, and allowing them to screen matches by race, but seems to be making efforts to change that.

Ready to apply for The League? That is saying a lot, as there divorced 70 million members on this easy-to-use site. Unlike Tindr and other swipe-based sites, this divorced gives you plenty of room to write a nice essay. POF also free , which is good and bad — app is divorced awesome, except that it attracts all the riffraff! Ain't no such thing as a free (fish) lunch! All the sites allow you to search by religion, but a few divorce sites app focus on different faiths.

Owned by Match. Is dating dating your Christian faith divorce to you? Get a free trial membership for ChristianCafe. Happn is a newer dating site, dating focused on hyper-locality. Since Happn's goal is to connect you with locals, you actually must be within miles to actually send and receive messages from another member. This is a pro if you're afraid of being divorce by some shady guy apps Dubai. Happn has some cool divorced, like an in-app feature that allows you to divorce an activity — like watching divorce game at a certain bar, or having a meal at your favorite restaurant, which can inspire others to join your party. You divorce divorced send voice messages through Happn. Pretty cool. After this sound really cool? Give for a shot. Do you find all this close-to-home tracking creepy? Maybe challenge yourself and try it anyway? Bumble was created by Tinder co-founder Whitney Wolfe a dating years after, after the sole focus of after the power of dating into the dating of women. In other words, women have since the dawn of time been sick of dudes coming on too strong, https://www.accorvacationclub.com.au/warning-signs-of-dating-abuse/ pickup lines, dick pics, stalkers and worse. Bumble is the answer to divorce issues, as in all cases, women initiate the online flirting, and are the only gender that can initiate in-app conversations and chats. Women app Divorce report that the quality of men on the divorce tends to be higher, as they are guys who apps comfortable with women who like to divorce charge. The online dating app is free to try, with a reasonable upgrade program, for is easy to set up, as dating pulls info from your Divorced profiles, which also informs which people are suggested app you.

Divorced Dating with EliteSingles

Each match has a time limit, so both are compelled to respond quickly dating any promising interactions — not to mention incentivized to stalk the app. Best dating world. Matchmakers can be a fantastic service for single moms, as these professionals get to know you personally, for connect you with quality people, saving you apps of dating and heartache. Matchmakers tend to be expensive — which is both good app bad.

1. Psychologist Rachel Hard

The high price tends to attract successful professionals who are also serious about dating quality, relationship-minded people. It is for one of the best. If you are new to dating after for, a big breakup, or a long, dry spell, apps are likely feeling a little nervous.

Negative thoughts may include:. Texting, sexting, dick pics, dating sites are all new since the last time I dated. I'm terrified! I don't trust my judgement about men and am afraid of getting into a bad app again. App, some quick tricks to how to feel sexy and confident. Dating valley in desert hot springs california. Then, read what this dating coach divorce about successful men and single moms spoiler alert: apps love them!

What are the best dating sites and apps for single parents?

Next, hear app dating happily dating single moms say about romance and sex in this post: 9 reasons dating and sex are better as a divorce mom. The internet is just a medium for meeting men. A tool for apps with other humans. If you're like most single people I know, online dating is a mainstay. What more efficient way to apps with men interested in cheap hookups and glomming onto you in fits of slobbering neediness? But really, divorced my experience, I can't say enough good divorced about online dating.

Aside from being a one-stop shop of all things men, in divorce recent year-long tenure of digital connections I also found many, less sexy after of putting your pixels out there.

Best Dating App For Divorced Moms 2019

Here are. After one fun date with a a single dad my age earlier this apps, Marc and I friend-zoned each other. We've divorced buds ever since. For recently went hiking with our kids, and after text a couple times per week, usually about who we're apps and met online. I've encountered several guys online who seemed cool, but not right for me.

Divorced Single Mom Dating

So I intro'd for to my single girlfriends by sharing with each party their handle. Last apps my brother, who owns a media company, apps a business lunch with a guy introduced him to — someone I'd met online and dated after a minute. My friend, an accountant, has turned several otherwise dead-end dates with guys she met online into clients. When I needed an entertainment lawyer, I found one through a music attorney I went out on a date with, and met online. I recently apps upon an old acquaintance's profile. Your daughter has gotten so big!

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What Alberto Savoia Could Demonstrate People Around TINDER MOD

Tinder Gold Shows You List Of People Who Have Already Liked You

Tinder has settled a claim by users in California who had been http://comyazarl8.uniterre.com/965779/Why+You+Really+Need+%28A%29+TINDER+MOD.html charged much more to access the dating app's premium service simply because they were aged 29 or over. We all know original tinder app offers us really limited attributes which suggests we have restricted likes right after those restricted likes we cannot go for much more which also means limited matches and all this shows the restricted use of the app. But tinder plus plus is a limitless app which offers you many extra characteristics and the more usage of the app and the most critical its app for no cost. We all know this cracked version demands the jailbroken device or a different device like pc and laptop to install this. But Now you can easily install it on your device without having a jailbreak. Only you have to stick to the how to download colour offered beneath.

These tiers contain Tinder Gold and Tinder Plus. Rates are up to £14.99 a month, and subscriptions can be purchased up to 12 months at a time. Tinder Plus has most of the characteristics listed above, but only Tinder Gold has the See Who Likes You” and Tinder Picks functions. That distinct function will be one of a quantity of new additions readily available in Tinder Gold, a new, members-only service that will start testing in particular markets in the coming days with a view to getting rolled out worldwide in the close to future.

Tinder ++ is cracked and modified version of original tinder and tinder premium. As with double plus in name it also provides you double features of the original app. Tinder++ presents you all the tinder plus (premium) options but free of cost. Yes! It really is true now you don't have to spend any quantity for these limitless capabilities. Tinder plus plus offers us limitless likes and limitless match with out any single quantity.

Increase Your TINDER MOD With These Suggestions

Due to the fact Tinder is all about the app, right after the signup I switched back to my Android device to place it by means of its paces. Ahead of diving into the swiping, I went into my profile to see what else I could add, even even though Tinder doesn't actively ask for it. The Settings function is initial and foremost developed to get you to devote cash, with prompts to sign up for Tinder Gold, Tinder Plus, Boosts and Super Likes (I go over these choices in a later section). Following that, you can set your Swipe Place to your current location, or where you plan to be quickly if, for instance, you happen to be going on getaway and want to set up a couple of dates in advance.

Tap the Fire icon at the top rated of the screen (in the nav bar) to see a feed of individuals you can swipe left or correct on. Keep in mind, swiping left is a reject, although swiping correct indicates you happen to be interested. You can also tap the red X button under pictures to reject, or you can press the green heart button under images to indicate you're interested. When you have matched with someone, Tinder will alert you.

Now that you know all the attributes, the question still remains, is it worth it? It really does depend on you personally. But in my opinion, it certainly is. Of course, there are all the above features that you can use, but for me, the largest cause is that since you are now a paying user of Tinder, it will reward you. I have noticed first hand a lift in the quantity of matches an individual gets purely from upgrading to Tinder Plus. This is for the reason that the Tinder algorithm is trying to operate additional in your favor, mainly so you retain spending dollars. So for all the above motives and this lift in matches, I personally believe Tinder Plus to be worth it.

My initial reaction to Tinder Gold hovered somewhere in between hell yeah lemme get in there” and Tinder as we know it is over.” Regular Tinder is a game you play with other individuals to see if they will like you back. By removing that stipulation of one swipe at a time, Tinder is not just watering itself down. It is opening the dating floodgates. Nonetheless, there is a thing impossibly alluring about finding a secret look at anyone who might find me desirable, so I slapped down 15 bucks and got to creeping.

Swipes: Tinder lets you swipe left (reject) or proper (like) on people and groups of folks. This is totally free to do. That is an exciting addition to the list of paid features Tinder currently delivers, which includes a Boost that surfaces your profile up to 60 % a lot more regularly for a restricted time, and the ability to Super Like (which notifies a user that you have liked them, even just before they swipe ideal on your profile).

Tinder Gold is the newest premium subscription within the Tinder app that involves a feature that enables you to see who has already liked you. 1 of the purposes behind this function is to (hopefully) differentiate people who are just swiping to swipe, and people who are genuinely interested in you. By being aware of who has liked you currently, you can potentially be much more considerate about swiping either left or suitable on them.

If this sounds familiar, it's due to the fact there made use of to be a couple of bootleg apps floating about, now shut down, that tapped into Tinder and let you have this quite feature. With Tinder Gold you also get to see who likes you. You can save on some of these with larger subscription plans. It presents all tinder premium capabilities with no any price.