#on twitter the other day of them actually starting to film??? for a shiver tv show/movie??? made me be like OH GOD I HAVE TO ACTUALLY WRITE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blissedoutphil · 4 years

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Cool Down

Never thought I’d be writing a prompt from the man himself in the year he’s barely around. Also anon’s idea is A+ thank you for that, I hope you enjoy!

The (**) leads to a nsfw link so be careful if you wanna click it!

3019 words of ice play, Top!Phil, bottom!dan, ice play, blowjob, smut

or read on ao3!

Dan groaned at the sound of the doorbell. Phil and his damn packages. It was so hot that he'd decided to spend the day not moving at all from the spot on the couch near the fan, but Phil was busy filming so he had no choice.

He reluctantly stepped away from the fan and went to answer the door. He didn’t bother putting a shirt on and was just in his shorts, because who needs a layer over their sticky skin in fucking 34ºC weather.

He was too hot to even feel conscious about being topless when facing the cute deliveryman. The guy didn’t look fazed either, probably most people he delivered packages to were wearing as little clothing as possible on this sweltering day. He dumped Phil’s packages on the kitchen table and went back to his spot.

A few hours later Phil walked in, in just shorts too.

“Whew, I’m glad filming’s finally done. Couldn’t wait to take off my shirt the entire time,” he complained, plopping down between Dan and the fan.

“Hey! Stop blocking the fan,” Dan toed at Phil’s side to get him to move, “go get your packages on the kitchen table.”

“Oh, they’re here already?” Phil got up immediately, looking quite excited that his order had arrived.

“You making a Wish video again or something?” Dan asked from where he was still lounging.

“No, just got some things I thought were cool.”

“Phil, we’ve got enough useless things lying around here, you gotta stop falling for the ads” Dan rolled his eyes.

“Uh, I beg to differ, you loved that Nic Cage pillow cover,” Phil said indignantly, “plus I got something that’s definitely useful for you right now.”

That piqued Dan’s interest, and he quirked an eyebrow at Phil, “If it’s not another fan or a portable A/C then I don’t agree with you.”

“It’s better than that, trust me,” Phil had that glint in his eye that Dan knew meant he was planning something good.

But he was also being sneaky about it, refusing to tell Dan what he got and telling him he’s got to wait a few hours.

So they spent the rest of the warm day lazily lounging about and trying but failing to pay attention to the tv since their brains felt melted from the heat. Phil had eaten 2 ice lollies, and made huge glasses of iced coffee for both of them, but they still felt warm as soon as their cold treats were gone.

"If whatever you bought is better than a fan then can we please use it now?!” Dan said exasperatedly, wiping sweat off his brow.

“So impatient,” Phil chided, but he got up to retrieve the item.

“Actually,” Phil continued as he walked over to the kitchen, “I got this idea after I saw your tweet.”

Dan craned his neck to look over at his boyfriend, squinting his eyes suspiciously.

“You gonna help me stick some ice up my ass?” he joked, but stopped chuckling when he realised Phil wasn’t laughing along with him.

“I mean,” Phil shrugged, looking into the freezer, “you could’ve just texted that to me.”

Dan’s breath hitched as it dawned on him that Phil was dead serious about following through with his joke tweet.

“It’s too hot for sex right now, Phil,” he griped.

“Not as hot as your idea. Hey, describing ice play as hot is kinda ironic,” Phil grinned.

Dan rolled his eyes fondly. “What does my tweet have anything to do with your Wish purchase anyway?”

“It’s like Wish knew what you tweeted, I think they’re spying on us.”

“Spit it out, Lester, what did you get? A dick-shaped ice tray or something?”

Phil peeked out from the freezer door. “That does sound like something Wish probably has.”

Dan barked out a laugh. The ridiculousness of the idea based on his joke coupled with the determination on Phil’s face resulted in him doubled over from laughter.

Dan pressed his hand over his chest at an attempt to calm down to talk, “Don’t tell me you actually!”

Phil shrugged nonchalantly, “your wish is my command, who else was gonna fulfil your requests on twitter?”

Dan shook his head slightly at his ridiculous boyfriend. He heard the freezer shut and Phil beckoned him over to the kitchen, so he lazily got up and padded over to where his boyfriend was in front of the counter.

The moment he stepped close enough for Phil to reach out for him, Phil grabbed him and pinned him against the counter. He grunted as Phil turned them so his back hit against the counter, barely having time to register what was happening.

Phil had a smirk as he held Dan in place by his hips. He headed straight for Dan’s lips, and Dan happily welcomed the kiss. But Dan’s eyes widened and he moaned in surprise when he opened his mouth and a small ice cube was pushed into his mouth. The ice cube quickly melted between their tongues, and Phil only broke the kiss when it was completely gone.

Dan gasped out a surprised laugh. He already had an idea of what Phil was up to yet somehow he still did not see that coming.

Phil winked in that endearing way where it almost counted as blinking instead, and reached for something on the counter behind him. He gently pushed Dan’s head down to his neck and Dan got the hint, starting to mouth along his neck to his shoulder.

Dan had barely started on sucking a hickey when Phil gripped his hair and yanked him back up to kiss him again. Dan still moaned in surprise when he felt another ice cube being pushed into his mouth again.

Dan noted that the ice wasn’t exactly cube shaped as it got passed between them. Phil rubbed it on Dan’s tongue with his own, feeling it melt.

Their lips felt cold but their bodies grew warmer, sticky against each other as their chests pressed together. Phil placed a hand on Dan’s chest to balance himself and also have some space between them so that their body heat wouldn’t be too uncomfortably hot. He could feel Dan’s heart beating faster against his palm.

Once again, Phil looked over Dan’s shoulder to pop another ice into his mouth after the previous one completely melted. This time, he stuck his tongue out to show Dan the ice.

“Oh,” was all Dan could manage before he broke out into laughter.

Phil couldn’t help but giggle too, taking the dick-shaped ice from his tongue and holding it out for Dan to take a proper look.

“Cute innit, you guessed right. I think Wish can actually grant any wish we have,” Phil beamed at his own dumb joke.

Dan looked behind him and saw a big glass on their table top full of small ice that were shaped simply like bananas with two circles at the end.

“Not what I thought of at all when I tweeted that,” Dan laughed.

He turned back to Phil when he felt Phil place the ice on his chest. He watched as Phil traced the ice along his chest, watched as the dick shrank quickly until all of it turned to water trailing down his stomach. How was playing with ice so hot?

“Don’t think these tiny things in my ass would be satisfying enough, though,” he smirked.

“Oh, I know,” Phil squeezed Dan’s ass, “this is just one of the things in my Wish package.”

Dan didn’t have time to ask anything because Phil was already pressing an ice-dick to his lips, and he opened his mouth to accept it, Phil’s lips following immediately after.

A strangled whimper escaped Dan’s mouth when a sudden cold bit at his nipple. He gripped Phil’s upper arm for purchase, but Phil wasn’t letting up on their kiss or the sliding of the ice across his chest.

The ice was circled around his nipple, going over it until it hardened. Dan shivered a little, but Phil only broke the kiss to pop another ice into their mouths and press another against his other nipple, repeating until it was equally numb and hard.

Dan shuddered, swallowing the melted ice. He was definitely starting to cool down, feeling the cold water run down his chest. Phil was still tracing another ice slowly, from his clavicles to his chest to his tummy - like he didn’t want to miss a spot.

They were both already hard, and with his free hand, Phil began palming Dan through his shorts. Dan whined into Phil’s mouth, canting his hips into Phil’s hand.

Phil pressed an ice below Dan’s collarbone using his lips. He slowly traced it down Dan’s body, and Dan held onto his shoulders as he went down. The ice melted completely by the time it reached Dan’s bellybutton, but Phil continued kissing his way down, until he was properly on his knees.

Above him, he heard Dan’s breaths coming out ragged. He licked a drop of water that was trickling down Dan’s happy trail to the waistband of his shorts, then started mouthing Dan’s dick through the shorts. He could feel Dan’s dick twitch, straining against the shorts.

Dan moaned, tugging at Phil’s hair to move him away just long enough for him to remove the only piece of cloth on him. He hastily pulled his shorts down, and Phil helped him step out of it completely.

Dan shivered involuntarily as Phil started licking along his shaft. Phil’s tongue felt cold on him, but he felt himself heating up from the way Phil was staring up at him while swirling his tongue on his slit.

“My god,” Dan moaned when Phil went down on him proper, a cool sensation in contrast to the usual warmth of his mouth.

But the cold didn’t last long of course, as Phil started bobbing his head in earnest. Dan’s balls met Phil’s chin with each time Phil went down on him.

“Phil,” Dan moaned, trying to catch his breath to speak, “Phil I won’t last before seeing your other - oh- your other purchase.”

At that, Phil kneeled up and slowed his movements. His free hand snaked up to reach the glass on the edge of the table. The dick-shaped ice left in there had melted some, and he dipped his fingers in to wet them.

Dan was still too caught up in the blowjob to notice what Phil was doing, so he let out a small surprised yelp when Phil’s cold fingers pressed against his hole. He spread his legs a little, relaxing to let Phil finger him.

A strained whimper escaped Dan, starting to feel overwhelmed from Phil’s mouth still on him and now his fingers in him too. Phil began to pump his finger in and out, adding a second finger soon after. He looked up at Dan, gauging how he was holding up so that he knew to pace himself and not let Dan come before he could move on to the next part. Dan was gazing down at him, panting and looking flushed despite all the ice rubbed on him.

Phil moved off of Dan’s dick with a pop when he was done fingering him. He stood up and gently manoeuvred Dan to turn around and bend over on the counter top.

“I don’t think you’ve cooled down enough,” Phil said nonchalantly, tapping Dan’s ass.

Dan folded his arms and rested his cheek against them, humming in agreement with Phil.

“Gimme more ice dicks,” he chuckled and wiggled his butt, “you still haven’t fulfilled my twitter wish.”

“Once again,” Phil smacked Dan’s ass playfully, “so impatient.”

Phil took some ice that hasn’t yet melted in the glass and placed them neatly in a line down Dan’s back along his spine, from the bottom of his neck right to the spot between his back dimples. Dan could count 6, and could feel the coldness spread from each of them through his skin. He was then ordered to keep still so the ice wouldn’t fall off.

“Actually,” Phil went to open the freezer, “I don’t think I can fulfil your twitter wish exactly.”

Dan made a questioning noise, confused. But he couldn’t turn to look at Phil.

“You asked for a cube, but that’s not what I have,” Phil took out his next item from the freezer and finally showed it to Dan.

“Oh. My. God,” Dan uttered in a mix of shock and amazement, “fucking Wish!”

Phil giggled. He opened the dick mould (**) to reveal the ice in the shape of a very realistic penis, complete with the balls and head and veiny shaft. It was rather large too, Dan reckoned, almost as big as him.

Dan could feel the tiny ice dicks melting on his back, the water dripping down his sides as his body thrummed in excitement to try out the new toy.

“Ready?” Phil asked, taking out the ice from the mould and rubbing it along Dan’s crack.

Dan shivered at the contact, it was fucking cold. But he didn’t want to waste anymore time and cause the ice to melt before they could even start.

“Yesss,” he keened, sticking his ass up a bit more.

Phil took Dan’s arm and brought it behind him, a silent order that Dan understood immediately. He spread his asscheeks with both hands, his face planted against the table as he looked on at Phil expectantly.

Phil quickly pressed the head of the ice-dick into Dan’s hole, and Dan hissed at the coldness penetrating him. The balls part of the ice was already starting to melt in Phil’s hand, but he took his time pushing it into Dan, letting Dan adjust to the intrusion. He knew Dan could take the size since it was smaller than him, although only by a bit, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel to have a frozen item entering him.

“Oh my god,” Dan mumbled. He could feel the cold spread inside him, a much more intense sensation than at the start of their play when the tiny ice was just spreading a bit of cold on his skin.

“How does it feel?” Phil asked as he slowly pushed another inch in, a steady hand on Dan’s lower back.

“Fucking cold,” Dan grit out, “strange but. Good. Keep going.”

“Good,” Phil repeated, and kept going like Dan requested until the ice balls were pressed against Dan’s ass, a little out of shape from having melted slightly.

“So weird, I can like, feel it melting inside me,” Dan commented, swaying his hips a bit.

Phil grabbed the ice balls and slowly dragged it out a bit, noting that the ice already lost its veiny details, now looking like a really long and thick ice pop. He then pushed it back in and repeated, fucking Dan with the ice and watching as it grew smaller in size.

Water was trickling out of Dan’s ass and down his legs, and now he really felt cool all over. Phil let go of the ice and kept it in Dan, reaching under Dan and placing his cold hand on Dan’s hard dick. Dan jerked at the touch, and moaned when Phil started stroking him.

Dan felt like his ass was going numb from the cold, not really able to clench around the shrinking ice. He was able to feel Phil sliding his own dick along his crack, though. He wiggled his ass and stuck it out more, encouraging Phil.

“All the cold water’s being wasted,” Phil noted as more melted ice trickled down Dan’s thighs, “here, let me help you keep it in.”

With that, Phil pulled his own shorts off and thrusted into Dan, eliciting a loud moan from Dan. The small length of ice that hasn’t melted was pushed further into him, and Dan could feel the cold piercing his insides.

“Oh,” Phil moaned, totally not used to fucking into a cold hole.

He began to fuck Dan faster, and the ice definitely melted faster with the movement and their combined body heat. Dan held onto the edge of the table, bracing himself against it as he was fucked. He tried to clench around Phil but still felt too numb to work his muscles there.

Phil’s hand moved back to jerking Dan off, wanting him to come at the same time. Dan was moaning expletives, his hips colliding against the table with every hard thrust from Phil.

The glass of tiny ice-dicks was completely melted, and Phil poured some of the cold water on Dan’s back, spreading it around with his hand. Dan squealed, warning Phil that he was close. It only made Phil speed up both his thrusts and strokes, until Dan wasn’t able to form any words anymore.

Soon enough, Dan came with a high pitched moan, feeling warmth rise in his groin despite all the cold water in and on him. Phil followed almost immediately after, filling Dan with his come. He stayed inside Dan until he fully calmed down from his high.

Dan was lying pliant on the table when Phil pulled out. He realised that the numbness was finally gone, and he clenched his ass to keep the mix of come and melted ice in him for just a bit longer. Phil laid on top of Dan, pressing his body against Dan’s back, and Dan finally felt a bit of warmth again.

“So how was that? Was it everything you wished for when typing that tweet?” Phil murmured in between soft, lazy kisses on the back of Dan’s neck and shoulders, smirking against Dan's damp skin.

“Hmm,” Dan pondered, “not exactly. You didn’t shove it in me like I tweeted.”

Phil huffed, pushing off of Dan and smacking his ass, “you clean this mess.”

Dan merely laughed. He turned around as soon as Phil was off him and pulled Phil into a hug before Phil could get too far.

“Okay okay, I loved it. And I’ll clean up here, only if you promise to try the ice dick too.”

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smh at the way I kept referencing Wish but only found the mould on etsy. also 'cold' doesn't look like a proper word anymore. Anyway, hope all of your summer’s been good (as good as it can get in this pandemic...)

#Phanfic #phansmut #smut #phan #my fic #Cool Down #dan and phil #phan fic #phan smut

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

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chapter 8 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

this is another chapter where you gotta click through to ao3 to see the whole thing ;), but here on tumblr it’s all t-rated

“People who are fine don’t sort out other people’s kitchens at three in the morning.”

“I just wanted to help,” she said, her voice small, and a little frown appeared on his forehead.

chapter 8: firsts

Anna was getting antsy.

Filming had wrapped way back at the beginning of July; there was a lull now until the trailer would be released at the beginning of October, and then slowly interviews would trickle in, talk show appearances if she was lucky; then the movie would drop, and if it went well she’d probably get offers of other jobs or at minimum asked to be on more shows, and if it failed-- well. She’d taken a good, hard look at her options back in May after the tampon commercial had first come out, when she’d had to wonder if going semi-viral on Twitter was the height of her stardom. The company wanted her back, wanted to make a whole series of ads featuring her and capitalizing on the traction the first commercial had gotten, but she had her limits.

She’d asked Sven semi-casually what it took to be a bank teller and quickly scratched that off her list; she’d never had a head for numbers. The only math classes she’d ever done well in were the ones in high school where she got to sit beside Kristoff and pass him notes asking for help, so that ruled out most of the jobs Google said were easy to get into. She could go back for a master’s in teaching and try to be a drama teacher, but while she’d played a very good Anna Leonowens in a community theater production of The King and I, she’d never really had a knack for actual teaching of any kind. There was always starting from scratch in college, but even the thought sent a shudder down her spine.

She’d waitressed her way through college and done well enough at it; maybe she’d do the opposite of the old stereotype and be an actress before waiting tables.

As much as she’d tried to hide her worries from her sister, Elsa had taken notice of the fact that Anna’s room-- and, in fact, the whole apartment-- was suddenly much cleaner than normal. “You don’t have to hang around here all day,” Elsa had said one night as they sat down to dinner together. “And you know you can talk to me if you’re feeling stressed, right?”

“But I don’t hang around here all day,” Anna protested, and it was true. It was just that there was so much time to fill now that Kristoff was at school or work most of the time, and Honey was working on two different sets at once, and Elsa and Sven had real grown-up jobs, and her friends from college in the area had, by and large, moved on to 9-to-5s as well. So she spent her mornings tidying the apartment, scrolling through casting calls, going on long runs, checking the audition postings once again just in case-- and then she’d look at the clock and see it was only eleven and feel a sense of dread rising in her, settling a little more heavily on her heart every day.

She tried not to burden Kristoff with it; she’d taken the once-seemingly endless days full of pillow talk and lazy kisses and picnics on the living room floor for granted, and now when she saw him he was usually only awake for a couple of hours at a time, and even then he was always studying or trying to catch up on errands or just too exhausted to do anything but hold her.

He’d tried to apologize for it once at the beginning when he’d accidentally dozed off mid-conversation as they sat together on the sofa, but Anna had shaken her head and shushed him before he could even finish saying “sorry”.

“Look at me, Kris,” she’d said, cupping his jaw in her hands. “I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to apologize to me for working hard.”

“I just feel bad,” he had replied, eyebrows pulling together in a frown. “I want to take you out and stuff like you deserve, but here I am falling asleep before you can even finish telling me about your day. I’m really sorry, Anna, you deserve better and--”

She had leaned in and kissed him, not pulling away until he relaxed against her. “Don’t say that, baby,” she’d said, and he’d sucked in a little breath; she hadn’t called him that before. “You’re the best thing in my life.”

And I love you, she’d been tempted to add, especially when he’d tugged her onto his lap and started kissing his way up her neck, the way that made her clutch at his shirt and moan his name every time, but then he’d reached her mouth, and she figured maybe she’d just show him instead of saying it out loud.

But by the end of September, with the trailer’s release only a week away, she was beginning to reach a breaking point; it wasn’t anyone’s fault but her own for picking such a useless job with so much downtime when you weren’t good enough at it to stay booked, which she apparently wasn’t. It was a Saturday night, and Kristoff had a rare day off on Sunday, and they’d made plans to go out for brunch in the morning before driving up to a stretch of coastline Kristoff had assured her was deserted, with a crooked little smile that sent shivers up her spine.

He was asleep next to her now in his bed; she had been nestled against him, her nose buried in the crook of his neck, but no matter how many deep breaths she took, sleep continued to evade her, and so she had rolled away, careful not to disturb him.

She was tempted to reach out and trace her fingers over the lines of his face, set her palm on his cheek and lean in to kiss him, but he looked so peaceful, without even the trace of a frown for the first time in weeks, that it made something in her chest ache, and so she slipped out of bed and tiptoed into the hall.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do at first; Sven was away at some conference, so at least she didn’t have to worry about waking him. She considered flicking the TV on and watching late-night cop shows on mute and making up her own dialogues the way she and Elsa had done when they were kids first learning to rebel in their own little ways. But she’d been doing stupid, inane things like that for so long, just trying to pass the time; she felt utterly useless, so much so that she was starting to feel an itch deep in her bones, a desperation to do something, anything that made her feel like she was contributing to the world around her.

Her eyes lighted on the kitchen, an idea sparking in her mind; she knew Sven and Kristoff both liked to cook, so the cabinets were overflowing, but neither of them really had much patience for organization, and so half the time they spent in the kitchen was wasted shuffling through drawers and shelves and making an even bigger mess. Maybe she was a washed up has-been (more like never-was) at twenty-four and maybe her boyfriend was a hero who would save tons of baby animals someday, but by god, at least she could do this.

She started with the bottom shelves in the cabinets, thinking maybe she’d just straighten those out and crawl back into bed, but then she realized that being taller than five foot three meant you could actually make use of the rest of the space, and so she crawled onto the counter and started pulling everything out; if she was going to do this, she should at least do it well.

She had the top two shelves alphabetized in both cabinets and was working on the lower ones— that was the hard part, these she had sorted by usefulness and had had to consider what someone who actually knew how to cook would use— when he heard footsteps coming up the hall.

She kept her focus on the little piles around her, hoping Kristoff would just go to the bathroom and crawl back to bed; he’d been exhausted enough that he probably wouldn’t even notice she wasn’t there with him.

She realized it was fruitless when she heard his footsteps on the linoleum and heard a heavy sigh. “Anna, what the hell are you doing?”

She slipped the rosemary next to the garlic salt; probably those got used in the same thing anyway. Right? “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well start pulling my weight around here since I basically live here half the time.”

“Come back to bed.”

She bit her lip and ignored him, turning back to the trickiest little pile: one of them— Sven, most likely— apparently had a penchant for collecting different colors of salt, and she had no idea what any of them did.

“Anna.”

He had come up behind her now and put his hand on her back; she turned at last to look at him and met his confused gaze for only a moment before ducking away again. “I‘ll redo it if you don’t like it.”

He just stood there for a long moment, wearing only his boxers and his glasses; they hung just barely lopsided, one of the arms caught up on a little snarl in his sleep-mussed hair. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Well, I really didn’t do anything all day, so—“

“Anna. You need to sleep. You’re going to be too tired to do anything tomorrow, and we’ve been planning this all week.”

“I’m fine,” she huffed out a little more forcefully than she had meant to and turned quickly back to the cabinet to hide the tears of shame that sprung up almost immediately in her eyes.

“Fine,” he said after a stunned moment of silence. “Fine. Then I’ll wait up for you until you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on.”

“But you worked all day, you’re—“

“I’m fine,” he said, and though he didn’t raise his voice, the words still stung. Wasn’t that why she was doing this, trying to make his life a little bit easier, and here she was just—

No, a nasty, stubborn little voice whispered in the back of her mind. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll sit up for a minute and then go back to bed, and then in the morning he’ll thank you for helping him out so much, tell you he’s relieved you finally fucking did something, you useless sack of shit.

She turned back to her shelving with renewed vigor, lining each cap up nearly until the cabinets were filled with perfectly organized, colorful rows of plastic and glass, as cheerful as any supermarket display.

But somehow, she didn’t feel any better.

She dared to peek over her shoulder; Kristoff was still there, sitting on the couch and watching infomercials in a bid to stay awake. As she watched, his head began to loll to the side; he suddenly pinched his own wrist and jolted upright again.

Suddenly she couldn’t get down and back over to him fast enough. She started to clamber onto his lap out of habit, but then he turned and looked to her with such exhaustion in her eyes she sat next to him instead, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly.

“You need sleep, Kris,” she said, doing her best to keep that stupid little wobble out of her voice.

“Not as much as I need to know you’re okay.”

The words nearly knocked the wind out of her. “I— I— really, I’m fine.”

“People who are fine don’t sort out other people’s kitchens at three in the morning.”

“I just wanted to help,” she said, her voice small, and a little frown appeared on his forehead.

“Help with...what?”

“Just— stuff. I’m— I’m sorry I woke you up, really, but I promise it’s not important, we can talk about it in the morning if you—“

“Anna, baby, I’m not even gonna be able to sleep until I know what the fuck is going on. You’re scaring me,” he said, and suddenly she was crying and he was leaning over and pulling her into his arms and rocking her like she was a child as she sobbed into his bare shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to start a fight with you,” she choked out.

“Is this a fight?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

“I don’t know. I don’t want it to be.”

“Okay,” he said, kissing her forehead, “it’s not a fight. But please, please just tell me what’s wrong.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I— I just feel so useless, I just— since I finished the movie I just sit around all day waiting for something to happen while you’re working so hard at school and the café, and Elsa works too and so does everyone else, and you’re all good at what you do and— and you help people, and like you’re gonna take care of animals and stuff and meanwhile my job is just standing around saying the same thing over and over again in front of a camera and I just— I just…”

She trailed off, struggling to put it all into words in a way that didn’t make her feel even more pathetic. “I just...I couldn’t sleep because I felt so useless. I wanted to do something to help you instead of just wasting even more time, because you work so hard and you’re so exhausted and— and now I’m just making everything worse, and I’m so, so sorry.”

He was quiet for a long time, long enough that the tears on her cheeks had dried; still he held her close. She had shifted to sit beside him, her legs thrown over his lap as she leaned against his shoulder; he had one arm thrown over her, keeping her tucked against him, and she held his other hand in both of her own, endlessly tracing the lines of his palm.

“Have I done anything,” he asked at last, his voice unsure, “to make you feel like this?”

“No. Never. None of you, it’s— it’s just me being stupid.”

He was quiet again for a moment. When he spoke again it was slowly, like he was terrified he would say the wrong thing.

“You’re not stupid, Anna. Or useless. This is just— this is part of life sometimes. The, like, in between shit. I don’t know. And I don’t— I don’t know what I can do to make it better. But I...care about you, whether you’ve got a part you’re doing at the moment or not. And if you decide this is too much and you wanna try another job, then I’m here for you. And if you stick with it, then I’m here for you, too. I just— I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t think any of that even helped.”

“It did,” she said quickly, tears threatening to spill over again. “It does— I’m so sorry, Kris, really, that I woke you up for this.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did if it meant getting it out of your system. Just— do me a favor?”

“Anything. God, I owe you lots of them, I feel like I’m always the one having a crisis and you’re—“

He put a gentle finger over her lips. “Two favors. One, stop being so hard on yourself, okay? You’ve been going through a lot of new stuff this year. It’s okay to freak out about it sometimes. And two—“

He kissed the tip of her nose, the way that always made her crack a smile, even now. “Please just tell me next time something is upsetting you instead of holding it in. Preferably at a reasonable hour of the day, yeah?”

She nodded sheepishly. “I will. I promise. Will you— will you please go back to bed now? I’m worried about you.”

“Will you go with me?”

She nodded again, and then suddenly he was scooping her up bridal style and carrying her back to bed. He laid her down gently and pulled the sheets over her shoulders before crawling in himself, pulling her back against his chest and draping his arm over her waist.

“Good night, Kris,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his.

“Good night, Anna.”

---

They decided to forgo going out for brunch; neither of them really felt like talking to other people today, even for a moment. She had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have a whole day to just themselves, hour and hours at a stretch to be spent holding and being held and trading little whispered secrets and promises and praise, each sweet word paired with a kiss or caress or little silly sigh. She was drunk on Kristoff and the dark of his eyes and the heat of his hands and the press of his lips, soaked in love as if it were honey, so much so that she felt heavy with it sometimes, like all of it was constantly on the verge of spilling out and sweeping her away, and god, still every day it kept growing in her, filling her chest with so much warmth it felt like she had swallowed a star; she wondered sometimes if people could see it, if they knew. Kristoff had to, she thought, had to see it in her eyes and know she adored him, could probably see it now as she came into the kitchen and perched on the edge of the counter as had become her habit, swinging her legs and watching him make a batch of pancakes with those quick, clever hands that always knew exactly how she needed to be touched.

He smiled softly in greeting as he poured batter into the pan and came over to her the moment he was finished, wrapping his arms around her waist and tucking his chin over her shoulder. Her heart did a funny little flip when she noticed the ends of his hair were still damp, falling into slight curls; she ran her hands through them, feeling a sudden deep sense of contentment.

“You know,” Kristoff said playfully, his arms tightening slightly around her middle, “it was a lot easier to mix these up now that I knew where to find the vanilla.”

“I love you,” she said, the words popping out in response like they just couldn’t be kept in any more. “Kind of a lot, actually.”

His fingers had been tracing idle circles on her back, but they stilled suddenly; she heard him suck in a breath and hold it. She bit her lip, too nervous to break the silence, as if she stood on some great precipice and even the carelessly blown breath of a misspoken word might be enough to send her tumbling over the edge.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his fingers curling into the back of her shirt-- his shirt, really, another one she’d stolen from his drawer, coveting any opportunity to be close to him even in the smallest of ways.

Anna turned her head and kissed his temple. “I love you, Kristoff Bjorgman. And I think that pancake is going to burn.”

“Forget the pancake,” he breathed, pulling back so he could look at her, wonder in his eyes. “I-- you-- do you mean it?”

She nodded, feeling her heart begin to pound, so hard she could have sworn she could hear it, and he let out a sudden whoop of joy, surging forward to hug her again and pull her close to his chest, lifting her straight off the counter. Anna let out a gasp of surprise and fisted her hands in his shirt instinctively, her legs wrapping around his waist just in time.

“I love you, too,” he said, and she was suddenly glad he was holding her because otherwise she might have fainted and fallen to the floor at the sound of it. “I love you so much, Anna, I-- I just--”

The smoke alarm began to go off. He turned quickly to the stove and then froze, unsure what to do with his hands otherwise occupied; Anna, luckily, had the sense to snatch the handle of the pan and slide it over into the sink, which, thanks to Kristoff’s habit of washing as he cooked, was already full of soapy water.

The incessant beeping stopped after a moment, and they both let out a sigh of relief; Kristoff’s arms loosened around her, though he still held her close to his chest, and Anna realized he had been holding on to her so tightly it was starting to hurt, as if his first instinct in a moment of potential danger had been to protect her in whatever way he could. She cupped his jaw in her hands and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

“That’s not how I really imagined that would go,” he muttered, a flush beginning to creep over his cheeks. “The, uh, the making you breakfast thing. And the telling you I loved you part, too.”

Anna laughed and patted his shoulder as he set her back on the ground. “We can say it again and pretend it’s the first time.”

“No,” he said with a lopsided grin, “no, I-- I was so worried about saying it first and whether or not you’d say it back or whatever, and now...I guess it’s a relief to know I can tell you whenever I want.”

“Tell me what?” she said sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“That I love you. So much. And that I’m so glad you love me, even when I burn your breakfast.”

“And I’m glad you love me even when I ransack your kitchen at three in the morning.”

He leaned down and kissed her then, his fingers just barely cupping her cheek, and his lips were so tender against hers she almost thought she would cry, but instead she kissed him back, knowing that this would be a moment she would treasure for a long, long time.

They broke apart only when her stomach growled in protest; Kristoff blushed again as he looked down at her. “Oh, fuck, I really am sorry about breakfast.”

“That’s okay. There’s always McDonald’s.”

Anna had just opened her mouth to ask if he still loved McGriddles even though they were disgusting when her phone went off on the table behind her. Kristoff recognized the ringtone by now, the one that she hadn’t been hearing enough lately. “It’s your agent— get it, I’ll grab our stuff.”

She scrambled for the phone. “Hey Sam— yeah— good morning to you too. What’s going on?”

She listened to his hurried explanation in stunned silence, feeling her breath speed up with every word. When at last Sam asked what she thought, she hardly knew where to begin.

“I— you’re serious, they want me?”

“Yes. They’ve been looking everywhere, heard about the Netflix movie, pulled some strings and saw the first edit and called me this morning insisting they want to see you by the end of the week.”

“I— and it’s seriously for, like— for—“

“Seriously, Anna,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “Come by my office tomorrow, and I’ll get you everything you need for the audition, okay? Proud of you, kid. I know you’ll nail it.”

She set the phone down, her mind reeling. “Is everything okay?” Kristoff asked, sounding suddenly far away.

She turned to face him, her voice unsteady. “I— I don’t have it yet— but they— they want me for a part, Kris. A big one.”

#there is.....a lot in this chapter lol #and i still had to cut stuff lmfao #(it's only 4kish words but still like. whew)#my fics #drtlp

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thedeaditeslayer · 6 years

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Interview with Ash vs. Evil Dead writer Bryan Edward Hill.

I wrote my first article on NAQB with pain in my heart. After spending years hoping for a fourth installment of Evil Dead, three years ago the announcement of the Ash vs Evil Dead pilot directed by Sam Raimi, (that Sam Raimi) and written by Sam, Ivan Raimi and Tom Spezialy… the same authors of the Evil Dead Trilogy was made.

After I watched the trailer with my closest friend we thanked God, hoping that it was not a farce, or a revival made only for money. Then we saw the pilot, in silence, with our eyes wide open. At the end of it, we looked at each other and we both thought the same thing: Evil Dead is back in the best way possible.

During that episode we got so excited by the absurdness of it, the intense thrilling sequences, the over the top humor and that pure horror that kept us glued to the screen since we were kids.

Raimi’s direction explains the Evil Dead world so well in a particular scene featuring the character of Amanda Fisher. She faces off against the demon who possesses the girl Ash had a one night stand with.

At one point, this creature gets up when her brain is decimated and looks Amanda in the eyes telling her, “We know who you are.”

After that point, the rules are clear: Deadites are not decaying Zombies, every deadite requires attention and details. Deadites are not the result of a virus.

When evil shows up again, Ash Williams tries to run away from it because he’s tired of facing it. His neighbor Vivian delivers a message to him when she is possessed, “It is time to test the mettle of man.”

Yeah… These three years were a test for Ash to prove his mettle. The Dictionary defines mettle as the “courage to carry on.” If someone wants to “test your mettle,” they want to see if you have the heart to follow through when the going gets tough.

It is no coincidence that The Mettle of man is also the title of the last episode of Ash Vs Evil Dead.

Ash vs Evil Dead has been canceled. What leaves me bitter about this turn of events is the fact that this series was created to make the fans happy. Now, these same fans have also contributed to the end of the series.

The Mettle of Ash, The Mettle of Bruce Campbell, a man who in order to please his fans, decided to take the risk of revisiting his iconic character 30 plus years later.

If I meet Bruce Campbell one day, I hope I never mention anything about Ash’s universe, I’d rather go in the woods to talk about nature than to mention Evil Dead to him. As a fan, I feel guilty about asking him anything about Sam Raimi and the Necronomicon, because in the end he gave us what we wanted and we failed to respond in kind.

The following is an interview conducted a couple of days before the announcement of the cancellation of the series.

The interviewee is Bryan Edward Hill, screenwriter of the episode Rifting Apart, the eighth episode of the series directed by Mark Beesley (the director of 2×07: Delusion).

I consider this episode to be one of the best in the series, so I decided to contact Bryan on Twitter who was kind enough to answer my questions. There are no questions about the cancellation.

This interview was made in collaboration with Emanuele Crivello of Evil Dead Italia (I will never stop thanking him for the last three years we spent talking about this series and doing everything we could to get it renewed. Also, thank you to the #bringbackboomstick movement designed by Susan Leighton) and the comics portal Lo Spazio Bianco (which dedicated an article to Bryan Hill and his career in the world of comics) and you can read the second part on the blog at the end of the interview.

NAQB: We interviewed the Meza Brothers, and we have discovered that they are hardcore fans of Evil Dead. How much and how did you know the Evil Dead franchise before starting to work on this episode?

Bryan E. Hill: Quite a bit, actually. When I was a kid, EVIL DEAD was that hard to find, completely insane horror movie that only the local, family-owned video store had. Watching it felt like I was watching something that was impossible. It had so much energy and creativity. Instantly, I was a fan of the franchise. I even wore a blue shirt for a little while. Had to be like Ash.

NAQB: AVED has always had a respectable soundtrack, was the music chosen during the script writing process or later in production? And how were The Drifters, MC5s and AC / DCs chosen for Rifting Apart?

Bryan E. Hill: That’s all show-runner Mark Verheiden. He’s got great taste in music, and he knew what he wanted to highlight the moments in that story.

NAQB: The scene in which Pablo fights in the hardware store alone gave me a shiver down my spine making me think of the S-mart Ending of Army of Darkness. Is it possible to read a piece of the script, with your comment?

Bryan E. Hill: I’d love to, but we have to keep the scripts under wraps. I will say that part of the fun with ASH vs EVIL DEAD is figuring out how to slay deadites in the coolest ways. It’s impossible to go into a store with a paint shaker and not think about putting a deadite’s head in it. At least it is for me, hahaha.

NAQB: Rifting Apart is one of the very few episodes in which Ash’s chainsaw does not appear … and it works so well! Is it important not to repeat too much in writing an episode of the series?

Bryan E. Hill: In general, you don’t want the audience too far ahead of you. You want to do new things and sometimes that means not using all the old things, all the time. Ash is such a great character that he doesn’t need a weapon to make a story work. With this episode, we wanted to dig a little deeper into his character and show the heroism he has underneath all that personality. Bruce did such a great job in those moments. He’s incredible.

NAQB: Seeing the complete episode on screen, what is your favorite scene in Rifting Apart?

Bryan E. Hill: I’m a fan of Kelly. Dana is just an awesome person so seeing her refusing to buckle to the evil in the rift was a joy.

NAQB: And what is your favorite episode of Ash Vs Evil Dead?

Bryan E. Hill: Mine! Ha ha ha. Not too proud to say it.

NAQB: Working with Ivan Raimi must be exciting. How was the script of the episode written? And what are the indications provided to you in order to work?

Bryan E. Hill: Ivan created a LOT of the work that inspired me as a kid. Having him in the room was an amazing experience. For everything we were doing, he would tell us what was “Evil Dead” and what may have missed the mark. Having him there was invaluable. He’s just a humble, brilliant and great guy.

PART 2:

Between the writing of the episode and the actual realization, how many changes have occurred? Can you tell us some behind the scenes?

Not too many, and all of the changes made the episode better. In television, the show-runner guides everything after the other writers finish their scripts and Mark did the great work of refining every script, making them as effective as possible.

What changes between writing a comics story and writing an episode of a TV series that involves many more people in the making?

Any time you adapt a written work you have to make changes, just to fit the format of live action. Every choice you see in a film or a television show represents the work of at least 100 people, all trying to make it the best thing possible. You try to keep the spirit of the original work, but you have to adapt it to fit the new format.

You have very respectable career, which were the authors who made you understand that in life you wanted to become a screenwriter?

George Lucas and STAR WARS were huge influences on me. As far as straight authors go, I was inspired to be a writer from reading Hemingway. There’s an honest in his work that struck me like lightening.

Which educational path must we follow to become a screenwriter? Is it enough just the school or do you have to do something outside the box?

Well, in addition to studying English, History and those disciplines, you need to read and re-read screenplays. Analyze them and learn from their execution. For me, the work of Joseph Campbell and Stephen King helped form my approach to storytelling.

Where does a good idea for a subject come from?

It can come from anywhere. Dreams. Moments in life. Anything. The key is to follow that inspiration when it hits. If you think there’s a story inside of something, there likely is.

I read the first volumes of Postal. I was really impressed by the protagonist Mark with his Asperger syndrome and his “Everything it’s in the right place” (I can not stop thinking about the song of Radiohead every time that sentence is pronounced). In Italy there are many positive reviews of the volume (published in Italy by Panini Comics). How was working on the plot and what are the satisfactions that came with this publication?

That was really challenging because it’s a story about people, not superheroes. It pushed me to consider people from different perspectives and experiences and learn to write them with authenticity.

I also know that it was bought for a TV adaptation! (We also write a news of it months ago) Can you give us some updates (if you can)?

Nothing yet, but if people follow me on twitter @bryanedwardhill you’ll get updates as soon as I can share them!

If you had not been a screenwriter, what would you have done with your life now?

Batman. I would have been Batman.

What are your future projects? Where do we have to wait? TV or comics?

Currently I’m writing TITANS for DCTV, my DETECTIVE COMICS story starts with the first issue in June. I’m writing MICHAEL CRAY for DC as well, and a few other projects that I can’t announce at the moment. Should have a feature film announcement soon. Follow me on social media!

#Ash vs Evil Dead #Ash vs. Evil Dead #Starz #Bryan Edward Hill #Lionsgate

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

The multiple uses of Willam Belli’s big mouth [Wi(Bi)tney] - Spoky

A/N: Useless Valentine’s day fluff with some stupid humour. xx [ I know it’s a day early, but I don’t have time to post this tmr. ]

(( Hi honey. You wanted Witney smut for Valentine’s Day. So, I did my best to write Witney smut. It didn’t really work out… Sorry. Love me anyway? ))

The multiple uses of Willam Belli’s big mouth

‘How do I look?’ Alaska asked once again and glanced down to Courtney, who was sitting on the sofa in her pyjama bottoms.

‘Handsome,’ she replied automatically, smiling. Exactly like last time.

‘What if he-’ Alaska started again but didn’t get far before Willam interrupted her.

‘What if what? He doesn’t like you? Bitch please, you’re everything the guy could ask for on such a short notice.’

Courtney giggled at Willam’s words while Alaska just threw a slipper at him before noting in a slightly annoyed tone: ‘Fine, whatever, I’m out.’

The AAA girls had been in Australia for a week now and had a couple more shows to do before Alaska and Willam would be returning to the US. Already the idea of them leaving left Courtney a little hollow, not only because she would miss them, but because she also really missed the US.

‘I’m taking a shower,’ Willam informed her and she nodded, turning on the TV.

Courtney and Willam were both stuck inside, Alaska being the only one having a date on the eve of lovers. A weird date for that matter, Courtney thought, but then considered Alaska’s track record with boyfriends and decided that the current candidate was actually a pretty normal guy.

She heard the bathroom door close and wondered whether she would have time for a quickie before Willam would be back. She’d been horny since that morning but had not been able to find any privacy throughout the day. Now, however, she was alone and Willam probably would take his time in the shower. She grinned, turned the volume up on the TV and reached for her mobile for the secret archive of her favourite photos. There were some snapshots she’d screencapped from Twitter and Tumblr, but it was mostly a collection of shots she had taken while they were touring together. In some shots he was smiling brightly and in some shots he had the meanest look for being photographed when he really didn’t want to be. She chuckled and scrolled down to her favorite shot; the one where he was wearing just a towel and trying to cover his face with his hand. She smiled and took a better position on the sofa. She needed to be quick.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could imagine him touching her, tracing his hand over her naked chest, over her collarbone and shoulders. She imagined him kissing her. On the lips, on her neck while playing with her nipples. She imagined how he would be gentle but firm with his movements. How he would make piercing comments that would make her laugh. Because sometimes he was smart, sometimes he was ridiculous, most of the time he was just fucking sexy. She pushed her pajama bottoms and briefs lower and grabbed her dick. She listened carefully that the shower was still running and then squeezed her balls. She was getting fully hard and while she knew that she didn’t have the time for a full exploration of her anus, she did tease herself by massaging her prostate through her perineum.

She sighed and opened her eyes to look at the phone again. He looked so handsome. Edible. She just wanted to be fucked by him. Even if just once. It was kind of a life goal of hers. If she never got to do that she would die unhappy, she was convinced of it. Because some things you just had to do in life, such as surf, learn to drive a card, get absolutely hammered, and fuck-

‘Never took you as an exhibitionist,’ Willam noted, interrupting Courtney’s thoughts.

She opened her eyes in shock, grabbed her phone and hid it behind her back while lifting her knees up to cover herself. How the fuck had she not noticed that the shower had stopped? Probably because she could still hear it running. Willam had never turned it off.

‘Why is the shower still running?’ she asked as she desperately did not want to explain herself.

‘Oh, we’re out of shampoo and I came to ask if you still got some somewhere? Aaand as the water takes a while to get warm, I left it running,’ Willam explained and shrugged indifferently.

Courtney did have extra shampoo in one of the hallway cabinets. She was also hard and in no condition to go and find that for Willam, who stood in front of her in a towel. Dripping water onto the floor… Fuck. She closed her eyes in frustration and was trying to choose whether to tell Willam that she did not have shampoo or try to explain in which cabinet the extra bottle was, when she felt him take a seat next to her. Shit.

‘Want help with that?’ Willam asked, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

‘I… I…’ she stammered. Did she? She had certainly fantasized about Willam sucking her off once of twice, but it had never been in a scenario like this. Her scenarios tended to be more romantic.

‘I won’t tell a soul,’ Willam encouraged. He turned Courtney to face him by guiding her chin with his fingers and then pressed a light kiss on her lips. Courtney blushed.

‘It doesn’t have to mean anything,’ Willam grinned and Courtney worried her lower lip. She glanced at Willam. The man felt so good, hovering over her, taking control when Courtney just wanted to let go. He kissed her again, firmer this time, and Courtney nodded once. Yes. She wanted to. She just wanted some release and if Willam was offering…

‘Yeah, ok,’ she whispered against Willam’s lips and could feel him smirking.

‘Awesome.’

He pushed her knees down and abandoned his towel to the sofa while moving to sit on his knees between Courtney’s legs. He grabbed the base of Courtney’s cock, grinned at her and then swallowed her entire length in one slow movement down. Courtney gasped. It felt great. Willam was sucking and licking, and caressing her balls with enthusiasm. With acquired skill. Courtney stroked Willam’s hair and neck while he worked. She let her head fall on the sofa’s backrest and eyed the ceiling before closing her eyes. She could imagine him sucking her; holding her legs apart just like Willam did. Circling the tip of her cock with his tongue, exactly like Willam was doing. She could imagine his laughter and when Willam hummed a tone around her cock she sighed. Would he do that, she wondered. She grabbed Willam’s hair and imagined it darker, shorter. When she approached her climax she kept her eyes tightly shut and warned Willam with a quiet whisper of: ‘Coming.’

Willam did not back off when Courtney shot her load and shivered on the sofa. She kept her eyes closed even after Willam had swallowed and taken a seat next to her. She was spent and a little ashamed. But Willam had offered, so it wasn’t like she had taken full advantage, just like 75%.

‘So it’s Bianca, huh?’ Willam asked then and shocked Courtney out of her afterglow.

She stared at him with wide eyes, lips slightly apart and wondered how the fuck the other queen had guessed that. Had she moaned his name out loud? No, she never did that, she was quite certain of it.

‘How did-’ before she had time to finish her question Willam showed her the mobile phone he had snatched from behind her back.

‘Cool collection,’ he commented, scrolling down in Courtney’s secret folder.

‘Give it back,’ Courtney insisted and reached for the phone.

‘In a second,’ Willam smirked and seemed to be typing something.

‘What are you doing?’ Courtney asked, alarmed. She had a bad feeling about this.

‘There, no harm done,’ Willam smirked and gave the phone back. She glanced at it and saw that Willam had sent a Whatsapp message to Roy: ‘I love you. Fuck me bareback?’

She stared at the text on the screen in horror, glanced at Willam and then… Then the two ticks on the bottom of the message turned blue. She gasped.

‘You utter fucking cunt!’ she exclaimed at Willam and slapped him at his chest. Twice.

‘Au, fuck!’ Willam swore and Courtney might have continued her violent attacks had her phone not rang at that very moment.

‘Shit! WILLAM!’ she shouted accusingly: ‘What am I gonna say?!’

‘Well, whatever you say, do not tell him the truth,’ he laughed and covered himself with the towel.

Courtney threw an ugly look at Willam, took a deep breath and answered the phone.

‘Hi Roy,’ she said and tried to appear normal: ‘Listen, I can explain that.’

Roy was silent a moment before clearing his throat and saying: ‘Okay?’

‘The thing is…’ Courtney started, but did not know how to continue. ‘The thing is,’ she tried again.

‘The thing is she’s all ready for you if you want it!’ Willam yelled loudly.

‘Shut up bitch!’ Courtney shouted and kicked the other queen. Twice. Willam groaned in pain.

‘Is that Willam?’ Roy asked and Courtney thought she could hear a smile in the voice.

‘I, yes. Yeah, that’s Willam,’ she answered Roy. She was flustered. And annoyed. And angry! And at the same time it was so nice to hear Roy’s voice… She just wanted to sit there and listen to him talk. For hours.

‘Is Alaska there as well?’ Roy asked and Courtney shook her head, before realising he couldn’t see her.

‘No. No, she’s out. She has a Valentine’s day -date,’ Courtney said and the date registered with her. Willam had truly screwed her over. Who sent that kind of a message to someone on Valentine’s day? Wait, was it even Valentine’s day in the US? What was the time difference? Then it occurred to her that Roy must’ve been alone as he had called. Why wasn’t he out?

‘You… You’re home?’ she asked and threw a murderous glare at Willam who was making obscene gestures with his hands and face.

‘Yeah, I was actually going to watch a film when I got your message,’ Roy said calmly.

‘I… I’m sorry,’ Courtney said: ‘It’s Willam, he-um, he…’

Willam was making gestures for Courtney not to tell the truth; not to share all the details.

‘He sent that,’ Courtney finished and Willam made a silent gesture of shooting Courtney in the head for stupidity.

‘Yeah?’ Roy asked and Courtney thought she could hear a slight undertone of disappointment.

‘Yeah,’ she repeated and then decided to risk it. It was Valentine’s day after all. At least in Australia. ‘But he-um, he might’ve gotten it from me. Like, the information,’ she explained and grimaced as she realised how stupid that sounded.

‘Yeah?’ Roy asked again and the voice sounded brighter somehow.

‘Yeah,’ Courtney whispered. She thought she might throw up at any moment. She felt nauseous and nervous – and she absolutely fucking hated Willam.

‘That’s um,’ Roy started but paused for a while before continuing: ‘That’s nice.’

‘Nice?!’ Courtney exclaimed. Bianca del Rio, speechless?! The time of miracles really was not over.

‘Well, I thought ‘nice’ was more appropriate than telling you to drag your gorgeous ass onto a plane so I can fuck it raw after you land,’ Roy stated. Courtney’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Yeah?’ she asked and chuckled. It might’ve not been the cutest of love declarations, but it definitely was something.

‘Yeah,’ Roy confirmed. ‘And tell that cunt to keep his hands off of other people’s stuff.’

Courtney laughed. ‘I can tell him, but he’s not likely to listen.’

They ended the call with a promise to talk soon. To figure things out. To visit. Courtney turned to Willam and didn’t know whether to thank him or to punch him in the face. He grinned, as if reading her thoughts and sighed then dramatically: ‘I hope Lasky’s date is awful, so I’m not the only sad motherfucker today.’

Courtney chuckled and shook her head, and then she heard it…

‘Willam?’

‘Hm?’

‘I think the shower’s still on…’

#courtney act #willam belli #bianca del rio #witney #bitney #spoky #rpdr fanfiction #submission

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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 7 years

Text

In My Way - Chapter 19

AO3 link, First Chapter

Genre: Chaptered. Actor!Dan AU, fluff, bit of angst, slow burn, getting together (eventually)

Summary: Fiction. Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.

Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.

Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor Daniel Howell.

Warnings: Swearing, Ace!Phil, Bi!Dan, slight a- and bi-phobia, discussions of sexuality

Word Count: 3000-5000 per chapter (ish)

A/N: Whoops sorry this took a while again, but I’m still beavering away and I promise you will get all 25 chapters of this fic eventually ^_^ (also somehow this fic won phanfic awards??? Thank you to anyone who voted <3)

@mecaka could not have done this without your help, thank you for being my star and betaing this constantly for me even when I leave it literally a month before writing the tiny last scene xD you are my saviour <3

---

Phil’s flat felt far too empty with only one person in it.

He was sure there hadn’t been quite this much space before. The floor felt too clean, there was too much space on his sofa, his TV was on too quietly. The kitchen didn’t hold as much food, the pans were tidied away far too quickly. His bed was far too wide.

Phil moped around the place on his own, finding it harder and harder to concentrate. Writing his PhD thesis was nowhere near as fun without someone constantly distracting him by climbing over his legs. Anime was less captivating without sharp running commentary. One time, Phil had made the mistake of flicking to the film channel and Reckless had been playing. Seeing Dan Howell’s face on the big screen made Phil flinch and look away, quickly changing channels.

Plus, Dan on screen just looked kind of… wrong. Phil still loved the film, but the Dan on there was fake. Where once Phil would never have noticed the actual ‘acting’, now he could see the illusion Dan finely painted, in the details of his careful expressions, the mask he wore of another character.

It wasn’t Phil’s Dan up there. It was everyone’s Dan.

Phil flung the remote down, grumbling to himself about dumb actors ruining his favourite films for him. He’d resorted to running out to the café next door earlier, desperate to get some actual writing done in a place that didn’t have treasured memories leaking from every corner. He’d been there an hour and got through editing the first part of his draft before his phone buzzed.

Phil tried not to show his disappointment when it was PJ asking to meet up later.

So Phil had packed up his bags and returned to his flat, thesis still in desperate need of attention but Phil in desperate need of distraction.

PJ had opted for a pub in town to meet in. They were going to eat out and have a drink or two and then return home happier for it, Phil knew that objectively, but it was still hard to drag himself into respectable-ish clothes and head out of the door. He’d become used to staying indoors all night, wrapped up in someone else’s arms. It felt strange, actually going out again.

The black car was still sitting at the end of his street. Phil cast it a worried glance and upped the pace of his stride, hurrying through towards the centre of town as quickly as he could without actually running. No one had approached him yet, but Dan had warned him over skype that hype would be increasing soon.

“The film premiere is in a month, so watch out up until then,” he’d told Phil through a mouthful of cereal, the image on Phil’s computer far too grainy for his liking. “All the publicity will go insane.”

“I’ll be prepared,” Phil had promised him,then got lost watching the way he smiled.

PJ was sitting in a booth over in a quiet corner. Phil was forever grateful that his old university friend was so similar to him, still enjoying a quiet night rather than a noisy meeting place. Neither of them had ever been much into clubs, and they certainly hadn’t been fans of the more rowdy crowds. This was probably exactly what he needed – a meal with a friend. Even if all Phil really felt like doing was sliding back into bed and moping some more.

PJ waved him over with his usual cheery smile. His greeting was as warm as ever, though he cast Phil something of a knowing look when Phil’s reply was a bit morose. They’d been settled in for a while, and Phil had only offered a few grunts to the conversation when PJ abruptly changed the subject with a small sigh. “You’re moping, Phil.”

“Huh?” Phil sat up then, dropping his fork in his lasagne.

PJ chuckled, but his eyes were warm as he looked at Phil. “See? Moping.”

“I’m not,” Phil denied reflexively.

PJ wasn’t buying it, simply snorting in response. But he also didn’t push it. Phil was eternally grateful for his friendship, for knowing when Phil needed to talk and also when Phil needed to sort his thoughts out on his own. Phil should get better at thanking him.

“So what are you up to now?” Phil finally forced himself to say, dragging himself out of his own morose thoughts.

“Well, I’m back with the company, but my boss isn’t too happy with me,” PJ admitted.

Phil squinted at him. “Why not?”

PJ shrugged. “I don’t think he much appreciated me taking so much time off to work on the set. I had to, though – an actual film set. And I got paid for my hours, so it was worth it.”

“That’s great,” Phil said with an effort, and he meant it. Really, he did. It was just… impossible for him to think of the film set without thinking of Dan, and Phil had been trying to get out of his mope.

He wondered if Dan would have liked this pub. Probably wouldn’t have approved of the music choice.

“It was, and all thanks to your Dan,” PJ answered with a chuckle, but his expression was careful.

Phil grimaced a bit, wriggling. “He’s not my Dan.” Despite the shiver of warmth that flowed through him at the sound of that.

PJ eyed him closely. “Isn’t he?”

Phil bit his lip.

“You miss him, don’t you?” PJ questioned him quietly.

Phil froze. The answer was obvious, he felt it flowing through his veins, with every pulse of his heart, like an ache deep in his bones. But he didn’t know how much it was safe to admit, especially when Dan wasn’t here to make Phil feel better about it.

But PJ was a good friend, and Phil knew he could trust him. So he glanced up to meet PJ’s eyes and gave a tiny nod.

PJ’s smile was sympathetic. “He misses you too, trust me.”

Phil shifted about a bit, muttering, “How do you know?”

“Because I had to work on the set with him practically every day,” PJ answered wryly, “And I put up with his constant questions about you. Like, which would Phil prefer black or red jacket, or, if I show up at his flat for the fourth time this week is he going to think I’m creepy, never mind his constant freaking out over what to tag you in on Twitter that day.”

Phil, despite himself, was biting back a smile. “He really did that?”

“Mate, you have no idea,” PJ answered with feeling. “The only person who got it worse than me was Louise, we used to have a schedule for Dan-freaking-out times for which one of us would deal with it first.”

Phil was full on grinning by then. Dan had always seemed so suave and cool and put together, but Phil had caught glimpses of the mess he suspected lay hiding underneath. For some reason, it made Phil feel a little better that Dan had been just as insecure as Phil. Or maybe not as much, but at least a little.

They carried on with their dinner then, and Phil relaxed into it a little more. Talking about Dan seemed to loosen the tight feeling in his chest a bit, and he felt himself starting to have a good time in a way he hadn’t thought he’d really be able to. PJ understood him, though, and they had a lot of shared stories from the film set. Swapping stories about the weirdest habits they’d seen from the actors to geeking out over the cool techniques they used to simulate magic.

Things were going well until PJ got a phone call. He glanced down at the screen and whispered an apology to Phil, saying, “Sorry, I’ve to take this, I’ll just—” he pointed to the door.

Phil nodded, shifting his knees out of the way so PJ could get out, and then he was alone. He poked morosely at the remnants of his lasagne, and of course, it didn’t take long for his thoughts to curve back around to Dan.

Dan, who’d probably be sitting in some swanky restaurant in London right now. Without Phil.

Well, no, more realistically Dan would be curled up in his flat in his pyjamas with messy hair eating stir-fry out of a bowl, but still. He was still without Phil.

That tightening in Phil’s chest made a reappearance.

Phil shook his head, stabbing his fork into his lasagne and releasing a soft sigh. If he’d thought himself ridiculously obsessed with Dan before, then being without him was only calling it more and more into perspective. Dan had been gone less than a week, and so far they’d skyped four times and texted each other almost hourly, and Phil still felt that crushing weight of loneliness more often than not.

Phil had thought he knew what it felt like to miss someone. He’d missed his mum when he was at uni, he’d missed his grandma’s dog when she passed away, he’d missed his brother when he moved out. But all of those paled into the background compared to the bone-deep ache he felt at the lack of Dan.

It didn’t help that literally everything reminded him of Dan. Every song that came on the radio Dan had offered an opinion on, every time Phil went to work he was reminded of all the spaces Dan had curled up asleep. Not to mention that every nook and cranny of Phil’s flat held some memory of Dan that was all too precious. Phil was making a conscious effort not to forget anything, instead sealing Dan away in his memory forever.

PJ returned then, pulling Phil out of his thoughts. Phil turned to greet him, a crease appearing in his brow when he saw the way PJ seemed to be bouncing on his feet a bit.

“Hey,” PJ greeted, and was his voice trembling?

“Are you ok?” Phil asked.

“What? Oh, yeah.” PJ slid back into place opposite him, his fingers tapping out a rhythm against the table.

Phil narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I am!” PJ insisted, then broke out into a face-splitting grin. “Well, ok, something’s happened. But it’s good.”

“What is it?” Phil arched a questioning brow, taking a sip of his drink.

PJ bit his lower lip, practically bouncing in his seat. He waited politely for Phil to put his drink back down, and then announced, “I’ve just been offered a job working full-time for Xander.”

Phil’s eyes burst wide open. He stared at PJ in shock, mouth falling open. “Wait – Xander, as in, the one from the film set?”

“Yep.” PJ nodded, and he was laughing before he could finish his sentence. “Just called me up – he’d mentioned, maybe, there’d be space at his company down in London, but I never thought – this quickly—”

“That’s incredible!” Phil paused, shaking his head, and then pulled his friend into an awkward around-the-table hug. “PJ! That’s incredible!”

“I know, right,” PJ agreed, voice thick with emotion. He was trembling a bit when Phil pulled back. “I’d never dared to hope I’d actually get it.”

“You completely deserve it, though,” Phil hastened to add. “You’ve worked so hard, and you’re so talented – I always knew you’d do it.”

PJ grinned at him.

The rest of his words registered for Phil then, and Phil frowned a bit, shooting PJ a close look. “Where did you say this job was, again?”

“In London,” PJ confirmed, and Phil’s heart sank. “I won’t be starting for a couple of months, have to work out my notice here and sort out some finances – and find somewhere to live, of course.”

Phil nodded, PJ’s excited chattering starting to fade into the background. His heart was sinking down to his knees. London. Why did so much of his life seem to revolve around London? It felt miles away – well, it was miles away – and he’d barely even got used to the idea of Dan being there.

Well, ok, he wasn’t used to that idea at all, but he’d been working on it. On making it work long-distance. But now PJ was going to leave him, too?

Phil was having a really hard time keeping the distress off his face.

He was going to hide it, though, because PJ deserved happiness. Phil was proud of him, knew that this was a literal dream come true, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin his friend’s moment with his own moping. He’d get over himself eventually. This was great news for PJ.

Phil just about managed to keep it together for the rest of the evening, until they’d finished up their meals and had a drink and split the bill between them. They said their goodbyes, and PJ went off to his own place while Phil started the long walk back to his flat.

He could get on the bus, of course, if he wanted. The roads were all open again now the set had gone. The city had returned to its normal state, no more disruption.

Phil still walked the entire way home.

On his way passed the street where the filming had happened, he paused, staring a little morosely at the place where the ROAD CLOSED sign had stood for so long. Right there was where he’d first met Dan, in a situation that still made him go a little pink. There was where he’d first got to go onto a film set, got to meet some fantastic people, and, of course, where he’d shared more moments than he could count with Dan.

Phil couldn’t bring himself to walk straight passed.

Instead, he stopped, staring at the spot contemplatively for a while, and then pulled out his phone. He snapped a photo and then headed straight back home when drizzle started to drip from the cloudy sky again.

Phil waited until he was back home curled up with coffee under a blanket (his flat still felt eerily empty) when he got his phone out again. Dan still hadn’t answered from earlier, probably fell asleep or something, but Phil didn’t linger too long before he pulled up Twitter.

There, he posted the photo of the empty street along with the caption, Just not the same without @danisnotonfire and the rest of the film crew. Manchester misses you <3

As ever, the replies instantly came flooding in. Phil’s follower count had continued to steadily increase since he and Dan started featuring in each other’s timelines, but they hadn’t posted anything in awhile. The odd selfie went up, but as they were still mostly trying to keep their relationship private, they were careful not to make it too apparent how much time Dan had been spending in Phil’s place.

Now, though, there was no such need for caution. Most of their fans seemed to think whatever they had would be over now that Dan had gone down to London, although there were a dedicated few so-called ‘shippers’ who seemed almost desperate that they stay together.

Phil couldn’t help but agree with them.

He scrolled through a few replies to his photo, smiling a bit at a few of them.

@phanforlife: @amazingphil is that what you said to @danisnotonfire when he left

@dansfans101: @amazingphil dw he misses you too we’ve all been seeing the mopey tweets

At that one, Phil chuckled. He too had seen the rather telling tweets from Dan over the past week, things like isn’t this spring much colder than its supposed to be and having lonely dinner for one again am I the worlds worst celebrity

Phil wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d almost been proud of that last one.

After scrolling through a few more replies, Phil set his phone away and stretched out on his couch, glancing up at the ceiling with a soft, yearning sigh. This entire room felt too cold, too empty.

And then his phone buzzed in his pocket with a new Twitter notification.

@danisnotonfire: I miss Manchester too <3

Phil bit back a smile, despite the burning feeling spreading to the back of his throat. His eyes were a little damp. It was ridiculous, too, this whole entire thing, because not so long ago he’d been freaking out about being on Twitter at all. The number of notifications on his phone had been far too overwhelming, but now, Phil yearned for them.

They were proof that it had been real. Dan had been real.

His phone buzzed again, this time with a new text.

Dan: skype?

Phil didn’t hesitate at all in leaning over to grab his laptop screen. Dan might not be here in person, but he wasn’t really so far away. For now, a grainy webcam picture would have to do.

---

The next time Phil ran into a problem, he was heading back from town with handfuls of shopping bags and desperately trying to get back into his flat.

He was just on his way back from a meeting with his supervisor, which had gone surprisingly well. She approved of the first draft of his thesis, and only had a few pointers of things to fix and where to go next. All in all, she was very nice, and the end of Phil’s degree was in sight.

That kind of terrified him, so he tried not to think about it too much.

He’d popped to the shop on the way back only because he was literally out of food, and ended up walking into several of the shelves because he was buried in his phone. (Dan was texting him for the first time that day, ok, and had sent him a very serious picture of a dog. Phil had his priorities right). As such, it had taken him a little longer to get around the shop, and he was ninety percent sure he hadn’t picked up half the ingredients he was supposed to, but he had got to see Dan’s excited key smashes from the dog talk, so it was worth it.

He was heading down his street, fumbling for his keys in his pocket, when he was accosted by a strange-looking man with a pen tucked behind his ear and a very eager smile on his face.

“Hello!” He announced, sounding like someone reading the news. A hand was shoved in Phil’s face. “Dan Foster, just here to ask a few questions if you’ve got time?”

Phil blinked. He shuffled around the bags in his hand to reluctantly shake the man’s hand, giving him a squinty look. He didn’t look like anyone Phil recognised. “Erm. Hi?”

“Hi!” The man’s grin widened if that was possible. “So like I said, a few questions. Have you always lived in Manchester?”

“Uh,” Phil said intelligently. “Er, I guess?”

“Wonderful.” There was suddenly a notebook in the man’s hand. “And you’re how old?”

“Uh – 26?” Phil took a step back. “Who are you, again?”

“David Foster, and if I can ask, where do you work?”

David Foster. The name meant nothing to Phil. The man was now jotting something down in his notebook. “Where do you work, sir?”

“Um—” Phil was getting a bad feeling about this. He tried weakly to point at his front door over the man’s shoulder. “I just – I live there, I just –”

“Is this your permanent address?” The man’s smile was starting to look a bit creepy.

Phil tried to move around him. The man blocked his way.

“Yes,” Phil answered weakly, lifting up his bags. “I just – I really need to get home—”

“Anyone there waiting for you?” The man asked smoothly, pen poised above his notebook.

Phil shook his head. His phone buzzed in his pocket – Dan would be waiting for him on Skype. “Actually, I – I have to make a call—”

“Some other time, then.” The man backed off, finally, and gave a final little smile at Phil.

Phil smiled awkwardly back and started walking forward as soon as there was enough space in front of him. He couldn’t get back inside fast enough. There was a strange clicking sound from behind him that made Phil jump, and he turned instinctively just fast enough to see the door of a black car slamming shut.

The same black car that had been there before Dan left.

Phil’s stomach suddenly dropped. He hurried back inside with more urgency than before, struggling to get all the bags inside his flat and dumped on the kitchen counter before he went straight to his laptop and to Dan.

“You’re late,” was the first thing Dan said to him.

Phil made a face. He was still adjusting the pillows on his bed, precariously balancing his laptop on his knees in the process. “I had to buy food. Nothing else would have priority over you, don’t worry.”

“But I thought you’d be back ages ago.” There was a slight whine hiding in Dan’s tone, and it made Phil hide a smile. “Also, put your laptop down, you’re going to drop it.”

“I’m not,” Phil argued, quickly saving it from falling off his knees.

“You will, you’re too bony for your legs to be a safe resting place,” Dan disagreed. Phil made a face back at him. He’d had plenty of complaints from Dan about how his bony legs weren’t comfortable, but, well, there wasn’t exactly anything Phil could do to fix that.

Dan looked a bit tired today. He was pale, and his hair was a curly mess, and he was still in his pyjamas lying on his bed. Phil had got the tour of his bedroom in their first skype call the night Dan got back to London, and Phil had made appreciative noises at the size of it. It remained the only room he’d seen in Dan’s flat, though, as Dan explained he felt too awkward giving a tour when Tyler was around.

Phil hadn’t seen much of Tyler, either, except when Dan complained about him leaving the bathroom door open or messing up the fridge order. (“You have a fridge order?” Phil had spluttered, and Dan had sniffed and haughtily changed the subject).

“Did you have a good day?” Phil asked when he’d finally got his pillows sorted.

Dan blew out a frustrated little sigh. “Kind of. Waiting for my agent to send me the details of an audition, but I don’t know when it will be, so I can’t really plan anything.”

“Audition?” Phil perked up in interest. “What for?”

Dan smiled, his eyes lighting up a bit. “It’s for a stage show. Don’t know if I’ll get it, though.”

“Really?” Phil settled himself down comfortably. “Tell me more.”

That led to Dan launching into a detailed description of the play’s nature, and the part he was going for (one of the leads, though not the main lead, Dan stressed – he wasn’t as experienced on stage as he was on screen). Phil listened excitedly, but he was struck once again by how very different his and Dan’s lives really were.

Not that it was putting Phil off. If anything, he just wanted to climb right inside Dan’s world and live there for a while.

“What about you?” Dan asked when he’d talked himself out. “Good day?”

“Yeah. Mostly.” Phil scratched at the back of his head. “Ran into a weird guy on the street.”

Dan tilted his head, smiling. “Isn’t that kind of usual for you?”

“Yes, but this was weirder than normal.”

“You have to tell me now.”

Phil grimaced. “He just asked me a bunch of questions, and then got into the black car. You know, the one on the street?”

Dan grew very still. His voice came out a bit strangled. “The same one from before?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s still there?”

Phil blinked. “Uh. I don’t know about right now, but it was. It has been, I mean.”

Dan’s expression had tightened. Phil didn’t like that much. “And this guy was talking to you?”

“Yeah. I didn’t say anything, though,” Phil hastened to add. “Nothing really important.”

“That’s good.” Dan was chewing on his already-abused lower lip. Phil wanted to buy him lip balm. And maybe kiss it better. “Don’t tell them anything, ok? No matter how much you like random small talk.”

Phil bit back a smile. “I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t.”

Dan let out a tiny breath, and his shoulders finally relaxed. That was better. He looked more like Phil’s Dan now, not the Dan always around on screen. “Anything else weird happen today that I should know about?”

Phil shook his head.

“What about the meeting with your supervisor?” Dan looked up, then, and grinned. “Wait, I just heard Tyler leave, gonna bring you into the kitchen.”

Phil grinned back. He liked getting a little peep into Dan’s life again, seeing the place he called home. The flat was big, a bit empty, but full of lots of little things that Phil could guess Dan had put there. A galaxy cushion on a sofa that Phil just caught a glimpse of, an entirely black candle sitting at a perfect aesthetic angle on a windowsill.

The kitchen counter was messy, and the sink was full of dirty dishes. That also made Phil feel a bit better, more like Dan was a real human. It was easy to forget that sometimes, to think he’d imagined those happy few months with Dan in his life, in his flat, in his arms. Dan deposited him on the counter, and it meant that all Phil could see were Dan’s elbows and hips and the hem of his giant pyjama camouflage top (seriously, how did clothes look baggy on Dan? He was taller than Phil and Phil struggled to get clothes that fitted him easily). Watching him prepare a meal, even something as simple as microwave popcorn, felt relaxing and comfortingly domestic.

This was definitely Phil’s Dan.

As he watched, Phil explained about the meeting with his supervisor, how it had gone so weirdly well. Dan ducked down enough to specifically beam at him with a giant thumbs-up, which sent something fluttering in Phil’s stomach. He was smiling back before he realised it.

“So you must be almost done, then?” Dan asked as he carefully placed the popcorn in a bowl. “Like, soon I won’t be fighting with textbooks to get your attention?”

“You have my attention anyway,” Phil promised, grinning at Dan’s snort. “But yeah. I just have to make a few improvements and adjust my conclusion slightly, and it’ll be done.”

“That’s a strange thought,” Dan mused. “Phil who isn’t a student. I can’t really imagine it.”

“Honestly, nor can I,” Phil admitted.

Dan shot him a look at that. There was a question in his eyes, one that scared Phil a bit, but one that also excited him. He wondered if Dan would ask.

Dan did, in a kind of roundabout way. “So no plan then? I mean, you don’t need one. Exactly. Not yet, anyway, there’s plenty of time and you haven’t even graduated yet and—”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted his rambling and leaned a bit closer to his webcam.

Dan sent him a soft smile, the expression gentle and calm and everything Phil could ever want to see. He wanted to reach through the screen and poke Dan’s dimple.

“I’ve been thinking about a plan more,” Phil confessed, watching as Dan set about balancing his laptop and the bowl of popcorn so he could head back to his bedroom.

“Yeah?” The screen tilted alarmingly as Dan launched himself onto his bed.

“Yeah, just, like.” Phil swallowed. “Nothing certain, but. You know. London.” London has you in it.

Dan’s eyes brightened. He dragged his laptop closer to his face until it was resting on his chest and his eyes loomed large in Phil’s screen. They were an impressively deep brown colour. “Really?” His tone was full of hope.

Phil chewed on his lower lip, lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I mean. There are companies there, good ones. And that woman on your film set gave me her card. I can probably dig it out from somewhere.”

Dan’s eyes brightened still further, but then his expression fell a bit. “Sarah? Was it Sarah?”

“Um.” Phil squinted, trying to remember. “Maybe?”

“If it was, there might be a problem.” Dan wilted a bit. “She left on maternity leave.”

Phil felt his insides crumble a bit. He’d sort of been vaguely holding onto the hope that he knew someone from Dan’s film set. Without that, he didn’t really feel like he was a good applicant at all.

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apply, though,” Dan pressed.

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, and let out a low sigh. “If I ever graduate. If they’d ever even consider my application.”

“They would,” Dan answered decisively.

Phil arched a brow.

“Well, they should,” Dan argued. “You’re awesome.”

Phil couldn’t hold back a small smile at that. If Dan Howell was saying he was awesome, then maybe Phil shouldn’t fight him too much. Even if it was a bit difficult to believe. He’d just – never had to apply for something before, not quite like this. Applying for university courses had always just been a case of getting good references and writing a vaguely appropriate personal statement. He’d walked into the job at the bookstore simply because he used it all the time to work, and one day had caught Lilith struggling so much that he jumped in to help.

This would be the first time he was applying for something real.

Dan was considering him closely through the webcam, and not for the first time, Phil wished their connection was better so he could stare at Dan’s freckles rather than pixels. Of course, the ideal would be to have Dan in his arms, but Phil would take what he could get.

“I think you should apply,” Dan said finally, much more decisively than Phil had been expecting.

Phil blinked at him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like, if you want to, obviously.” Dan was talking too fast, the way he always did when he was a bit nervous. But his gaze remained unfalteringly on Phil’s face. “I know it’s a huge decision, and I know it’s asking a lot, but – but if I never say it then I’ll feel bad. I want you with me, Phil.”

Phil’s stomach swooped. Something warm grew in his chest, spreading out until he was tingling right to the tips of his fingers, and he stared at the laptop screen like he could reach right through it and hold Dan’s hand. He kind of wanted a hand to hold through this.

“I want that too,” he managed to gasp, grinning at the answering expression on Dan’s face. Dan looked surprised, almost, as if he hadn’t been expecting Phil to agree.

As if Phil could do anything else.

“It’s hard, without you,” Phil confessed, and Dan’s eyes softened in understanding.

“I know,” he answered, and rolled closer to his laptop screen until his face was as close as it could get. “I meant what I said. About missing you.”

“Even with all the glitz of London life?�� Phil teased. His chest felt tight.

“Especially with all the glitz of London life.” Dan let out a loud sigh. “Do you have any idea how busy the next few weeks are going to be for me? There are so many interviews before the premiere, ugh.”

“Acting life,” Phil answered wisely, as if he had any idea what he was talking about.

Dan made a face. “Acting life can fuck off. That side of it, I mean. I wish I could just do the actual acting without any of this other nonsense.”

“You like the attention really,” Phil pointed out sagely, snickering when Dan looked chagrined. “I mean, I’ve seen you gloating whenever your Twitter followers go up.”

“That’s entirely different,” Dan sniffed, and Phil laughed at him. Sometimes, Dan still acted like the haughty, arrogant actor Phil had first met (and slightly hated), but now it was more likely to spark a sense of protectiveness in Phil. Like he wanted to wrap Dan up and put him in jumpers.

If only that was possible, from so far away.

There was a bang in the background, and Dan’s face fell. He craned his neck away from his laptop screen, then sighed. “Sorry. That’s Tyler. He’s bought dinner.”

“Go eat,” Phil agreed, proud when his voice only shook a little bit. His chest still felt tight every time they had to end a call, every time he had to say goodbye to Dan. It didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times they’d said it now.

Dan smiled softly at him. “I’ll text you tonight.”

“Needy,” Phil scoffed, but he meant, yes, please.

When they hung up, and Phil was left looking at a blank screen again, loneliness crashed over him like a wave. He felt homesick, which was ridiculous, because home had always been here, but now – now, home seemed to be wherever Dan was.

London, Phil thought. It didn’t seem quite so impossible anymore.

---

Dan closed his laptop but proceeded to stare at its perfectly pristine white surface for the better part of several minutes. He could hear Tyler crashing about in the kitchen, banging pans and plates and cutlery in what Dan knew to be a vociferous exclamation that yes, he was home, and Dan should stop wittering on to his boyfriend person and get back out here to the kitchen.

Dan smiled, but he didn’t look away from his laptop yet. Which was ridiculous because Phil wasn’t actually in there, and yet to Dan, it contained the whole world in that moment. His only visual tie to Phil.

He was a ridiculous sap.

After a particularly loud crash from the kitchen, Dan winced and hopped up to his feet, exiting his room. “Are you actually destroying things, Tyler? Because if you are, you’re paying the deposit.”

“Oh, there you are,” Tyler said delightedly. He had the biggest grin on his face when Dan appeared at the kitchen door – well, Tyler always had the biggest grin on his face. His eyes were sparkling in a way Dan knew to be entirely too dangerous. “How’s the boyfriend?”

“Still in Manchester,” Dan answered morosely. He collapsed onto one of the chairs and watched Tyler bustling about with what looked to be some interesting noodly meal.

“We need to stop you moping,” Tyler answered seriously. He was now doing something dangerous-looking involving flames on the hob and a pan setting on fire. Dan drew his chair back a bit.

“I don’t actually mope,” Dan disagreed, watching Tyler through suspiciously narrowed eyes. “Like, if I was actually moping I’d be walking around in a blanket, or drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate, or—”

“That jumper is as good as a blanket,” Tyler informed him with a smirk.

“—Shut up, no it isn’t – but my point is, like, I wouldn’t be functioning like a normal person – shut up, I am functioning—”

“You haven’t been out of the house in five days,” Tyler sing-songed, setting a finished plate of a rather exquisite looking meal down in front of Dan and joining him at the table.”

“But that’s normal,” Dan defended himself.

Tyler gave him a pitying look.

“No, really, it is.” Dan attempted to use chopsticks to grab a mouthful, glared a bit when Tyler could use them perfectly.

“I’m not doubting you, Daniel,” Tyler reassured him, “It’s just the sad truth.”

Dan didn’t even have it in him to retort properly. He just let out a heavy sigh and stabbed something with one chopstick. After all, Tyler was right – Dan knew it, really. He was sitting in his pyjamas mooching food that his friend had cooked instead of being out at some gathering or whatever. It wasn’t like he was short of invitations – with the premiere of Last Man Standing coming up, everyone wanted to get a glimpse of him.

It was just – Dan had done the whole celebrity lifestyle thing before, and hated it. Parties and clubs and excessive drinking just really weren’t his thing. He much preferred staying in and watching stupid videos on the internet.

That had just never felt so lonely before. Manchester had spoiled Dan – he’d got completely accustomed to just sending a whiny text and having Phil be right there, coming every time Dan called with a roll of his eyes and a fond smile. Dan missed that. Like, really, seriously missed that.

“See?” Tyler’s amused voice cut across his thoughts. “Moping.”

Dan didn’t even bother to deny it this time. He just sank his face into his hands and groaned.

Tyler made a sympathetic noise. “Just get him to come visit. I won’t mind actually properly meeting the man who stole you away.”

“Can’t,” Dan grumbled.

Tyler tilted his head, giving Dan a significant look. “Are you worried about the press? We’ve had this conversation, coming out isn’t anywhere near as terrifying as it looks from your side of the fence.”

“That’s not even the issue,” Dan grumbled, and then paused, lowering his hands. Well. It was some of the issue. The thought of everyone knowing he was with another man – that was more than a bit terrifying. Dan’s family didn’t even know. The only person was Tyler, and that was because Dan had needed someone to confide in, someone to help him sort out the mess his head had been in at the time. Tyler always knew exactly what to say. After all, he’d been through it himself.

Only… not quite like this. Dan was bi, after all, and his relationships with women had been pretty well documented so far (Dan had to bite back a smile at the memory of Phil confronting him because he’d seen something about an ex-girlfriend of Dan’s in the paper. As if she was any competition). But sometimes, Dan wished he was just… one or the other. Gay or straight. Being caught in the middle was hard to explain, even to himself. How was he supposed to manage telling other people?

“It won’t be as hard as you’re thinking,” Tyler advised, reading correctly into Dan’s expression.

Dan groaned.

“Eat your dinner,” Tyler ordered.

Dan obediently shoveled in a mouthful, and then spoke around it, much to Tyler’s disgust. “But like I said, that’s not even the issue. Not the whole of it.”

Tyler sent him a disbelieving look.

“Like, there’s so much more going on here,” Dan tried to explain himself. “Phil has a whole life in Manchester. I’d be taking him away from all of that, and for what? He doesn’t want a life in the media. He freaks out every time someone new follows him on Twitter, like, what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Well, he clearly likes you enough,” Tyler added.

“Fuck knows why,” Dan muttered, stabbing his chopstick against his plate repeatedly.

“Stop it, Daniel, you’re moping again,” Tyler told him. “Nothing bad will come of Phil at least visiting you.”

Dan paused for thought. He wanted to believe Tyler, really he did, but – but it was easy to find the distance between him and Phil overwhelming when Phil wasn’t actually here, reminding him physically that Dan’s fears were unfounded.

Because really, why would someone like Phil even look twice at Dan. He was living in a completely different world.

Except he said that London was a possibility, Dan’s brain reminded him, and Dan almost choked on a smile. A possibility. Phil was looking into it, had found the editing company – and Dan knew Phil loved that, that his real joy was in editing. What if Dan could help that come about?

“I suppose,” he said aloud, startling Tyler mid-mouthful, “I suppose nothing could hurt if he visited.”

“Exactly.” Tyler sounded proud of himself, if a little choked. “And when he’s down here and sees all the glitz and glamour of your life—”

Dan snorted.

“—He’ll realise exactly what he’s missing out on in the dreary horrible northern part of your country and move down here for good.” Tyler let out a satisfied sigh at the thought. “And I can finally stop dealing with your constant moping. I’d even let him move in. Temporarily. If you aren’t excessively loud in bed.”

Dan snorted louder. “Trust me, not going to be a problem.”

Tyler sent him a curious look. Dan shrank back into his seat, avoiding meeting his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about this – not only did it make him exceedingly uncomfortable, but also, this part was Phil’s secret to tell. Dan had no idea how comfortable Phil was with telling others. So, hastily, he added, “Well, I mean, London is a thing, though. For Phil. Like, he’s thinking about it.”

Tyler brightened instantly. “Well, there you go!”

“But he’s only thinking about it,” Dan stressed before he settled back into moping. “Like. He loves editing, he knows the name of a company. But he isn’t doing anything about it, not yet.”

“So do something for him,” Tyler shrugged.

Dan stared at him.

Tyler caught the look and raised both brows. “What? Think about it – a word from Dan Howell and he could get into any of the companies here, you know that.”

Dan blinked. He… actually hadn’t thought of that before. Generally, he wasn’t about using his influence to get ahead anywhere, but – but if it meant Phil could come here…

No. No, Phil would hate him. That was a bad idea.

“I should just let him apply,” Dan disagreed, slumping down further in his seat.

“If you already know who he’s going to apply to, there’s no problem with having a quiet word,” Tyler pointed out. He grinned. “That would get you out of the house, too. Two birds, one stone.”

Dan glared at him. But the thought was in his head, and it wouldn’t shut up – after all, Tyler was right, he could have a word with any one of the people who’d worked on his set, mention Phil casually. It had worked for PJ – Xander was the one who got him the job, or so Dan had heard. There was nothing wrong with Dan doing the same for Phil, was there?

Was there?

---

“There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?” Dan said, halting on the steps of the giant office building that housed the company currently editing his film.

Tyler patted his shoulder. “Nothing at all. Go get ‘em.”

But Dan still felt something sour in his stomach as he pushed the doors open. But that was dumb. He was helping Phil, not upsetting him or making him mad. And he already knew Phil had an interest in applying here. There was nothing wrong with helping him get his foot in the door.

And then, there would be something concrete that would get Phil to be in London. There couldn’t be anything wrong with that.

No, Dan thought to himself as he waved to one of the managers and went over to have a word. No, there was nothing wrong with this at all.

#phanfiction #ace phan #ace!Phil #bi!Dan #actor!Dan #iwritephanthings #inmyway

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