doggy phil

orionswinter  asked:

After the move, Dan is feeling sad because he misses Colin and Phil on a whim takes him to a shelter and they wind up adopting a dog.

Phil desperately wants to comment on how cute Dan looks, all bundled up in a winter coat and scarf, with only the top of his cheeks and eyes looking at him.

He wants to, but it’s kind of difficult when Dan’s being so stubborn.

“I don’t want to go out,” Dan whines, not really resisting Phil’s firm pull on his hand but still wanting to make his thoughts on the matter perfectly clear. “It’s cold and wet and I just want to go to bed. Phiiiil.”

The older man bites his lip, reminding himself that he was doing this for Dan. “C’mon, Dan. You haven’t left the flat in four days and we need a few groceries anyway.”

Dan’s voice fades, but Phil can still make out the disgruntled mumblings as the pair make their way through the street. Luckily, being so bundled up makes it so no one spares them a second glance. They’re pretty much unrecognizable.

“You’ve been in such a mood this week,” Phil tentatively starts, hoping Dan will tell him the reason. Phil had a hunch, which is why they were outside in the first place, but confirming his suspicions would make him feel much better.

“Well excuse me if I haven’t gone home in a while,” Dan tosses back. His words don’t have any bite to them; more like a melancholy tone. Phil’s grip tightens on Dan’s hand. He’s about 99.8% sure he’s figured out why Dan’s acting like this, and silently congratulates himself.

He stops in front of a shop. “We’re here.”

Dan frowns. “Phil, this doesn’t look like–”

Phil pulls him inside, and the words die in Dan’s throat as he surveys his surroundings. Dozens of dogs surround them, and in the distance he can hear the indignant meows of cats. The place is full of varying animal sounds. A small dog in a pen near him paws in his direction, wagging his tail excitedly.

Dan turns to the other man. Phil has a smug grin plastered across his face, but Dan can’t even think of a snarky comment in response because he’s so happy and surprised. “You knew?”

“I figured you missed your dog,” Phil told him, bashfully digging his toes in the floor. “Ever since we looked at those dog videos last week, you’ve been in quite the mood.” He gives Dan a pointed look.

“Alright, I deserved that,” Dan laughed, but he’s so excited he doesn’t care. “Phil, does this mean…?”

Phil’s smile is softer than the snowflakes falling outside. “I’ve talked to the landlord about it already.”

When the pair leave the shelter two hours later, there’s an older pug with three legs bundled into Dan’s arms.

8 Birth of a Child

(req)

Dan: For a self-described ‘clumsy prick,’ Dan Howell, your best friend and one true love, was your rock throughout your pregnancy. It wasn’t exactly planned, you had to admit, but when the news broke, Dan was with you every step of the way… Well, almost. You couldn’t have asked for a better father to your future child. But mushiness aside, Dan only really understood the responsibility of incoming fatherhood when the time came.

“Hey, Dan?” You called for him. He was only metres away in the kitchen yet you didn’t dare move.

“Yes, my love?” He responded with habitual lovingness. With an expression so calm, he was likely expecting you to ask some mundane question or spew some inconsequential information. But you always seemed to catch him off-guard in these moments.

“I think I’m in labor,” you said. It wasn’t a joke, no; you were literally sitting in a puddle of fluid you could only assume was from your water breaking. Dan called back with a ‘what was that, dear?,’ not hearing you at all as he whisked himself away with a cup of tea in the kitchen. You repeated yourself at once, this time with a flair of concern in your voice.

You heard the clang of a teaspoon being dropped to the floor followed by the hurried footsteps of a worried man. “You what?” Dan stood now in the threshold of the lounge, processing the sight of the wet sofa and your newly-pained expression. You heard him mumble some ‘oh Gods’ followed by some choice expletives as he helped you from your place of the sofa. He took both of your hands into his and did his best to lift your albeit heavy body into a comfortable standing position.

In the delivery room he was even more of a mess, if that was possible. Never had you seen such a stoic man so nervous, but in a weird way, it helped to relieve your own nerves. Pain was approaching little by little and you knew it wasn’t going to get any easier from here. You let the waves of pain ebb and flow through you for the hours being with as much grace as you could muster, yet Dan felt all the pain himself. ‘Are you alright? Do you need me to go and get a nurse?’ The endless inquiries amused you and frustrated you at the same time. At this point you were just thankful for the company.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, another contraction finding its way through your body. You sat yourself down on the hospital bed holding your overgrown bump, now missing the freedom of pacing about the room. Good Lord, this was it, you thought, this is when I literally explode. A young nurse took notice and ushered a small group of women in pink and blue scrubs into the cramped room, causing Dan to stand up in confusion. This was it.

The volume in the room increased exponentially as nurses and midwives shouted orders at each other, over the sound of your cries of pain. They situated you in a rather vulnerable laying position, one that didn’t frankly ease your pelvic pain, with your legs up onto chilly metal stirrups. And Holy Hell, was it uncomfortable. One nurse instructed Dan to sit in the cushioned chair at your right side, to which he obeyed immediately. You took note of his terrified expression, and if you weren’t in such a state, you would have laughed at it. Despite his fear, he reached out a warm and loving hand to you, stroking your arm as you laid feeling like a dead fish being squeezed dry.

The eldest nurse, likely the ‘midwife,’ you assumed, rattled off some numbers loudly to her colleagues before preparing an arsenal of what sounded like a thousand metal tools. Fun. She barked a list of orders to you that your cloudy head could hardly comprehend, instructing you to hold Dan’s hand and push.

“I’m right here,” you heard Dan say, holding your one hand with both of his. It was the last thing you remember hearing for what seemed like hours upon hours of pushing and pushing. Your screaming and crying broke his heart, but he let you sprain his hand until the pain was over.

A commotion broke through the nurses as you felt a white jolt of pain followed by a blissful release. A high-pitched wail pierced the air, signifying your healthy baby’s first moment of life. Dan was beckoned to the end of the bed to cut the child’s cord and ascertain her sex. You saw immediate tears fall from his eyes as he looked at the child, his face turning pink with the widest grin you’d ever seen. “She’s beautiful,” Dan said, choking on his own joy, watching as the little human was placed upon your bosom. Your own gaiety soon followed, tears wetting your hospital gown. She was so small, warm with vivacity, loud and proud, just like her father.

As evening approached, you dozed off sat up in bed, exhausted from the day’s demands. Dan, however, spent every moment with a big, dumb smile on his face, announcing to family and friends via text and Skype and Snapchat the safe arrival of baby Howell. The tears commenced again, though, when a smiling nurse arrived with your newly-cleaned and swaddled daughter, passing her off for Dan to hold. Never had he held something, someone, so tiny and miraculous and utterly beautiful. He couldn’t help the tears that fell from his cheeks, he must’ve been the luckiest guy on Earth with two beautiful dolls like you. “I love you,” Dan whispered to the wiggling child, her tiny hand grasping his ring finger with ardour. He cried and laughed and smiled more.

You watched your little family with tired eyes half-opened, sighing at what a lovely sight it was. Dan looked back at you, noticing your awoken state and smiled. He brought the girl to you, placing her ever-so gingerly in your arms before kissing you with all the love and tenderness he could muster. And a thousand more ‘I love yous’ fell from his mouth again.

Phil: “Ready to go?” Phil faced you with a nervous smile, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in front of him. Your bags were packed and stowed away in the backseat; your car was the most prepared one to bring a baby home.

You patted your middle, giving him the most reassuring smile and nod. “Are you?”

“I guess we’ll see,” Phil said, laughing a nervous chuckle. You knew he was anxious, but what new father wouldn’t be? Excitement was in his eyes, though, and you reciprocated that. He backed out of the driveway and chatted giddily about the near future during the drive. “I hope it’s a girl, so she looks like you,” he commented at one point. He smiled that dumb cute smile, his tongue sticking out slightly as he glanced at you, his own beautiful sight.

“Yeah?” you played, “Well I hope it’s a little boy, so he looks just like you.” You thought of the pictures and videos you’d seen of Phil as a toddler; his red hair and chubby cheeks could’ve melted your heart. However the little one turned out, though, they would be perfect. Even if they had just the slightest bit of Phil in them. Phil chuckled and rested a protective hand on your thigh. “Oh, Jesus,” you groaned, clutching your bump as the first signs of labor presented themselves. You shut your eyes and did your best to breathe for the time being. You were only minutes away from the hospital, was the little bugger really so excited to come out right now?

Immediate worry washed over Phil’s countenance, realization hitting him like a double-decker bus. “Oh my God, are you okay?” His eyes faltered from the road to look to you, pain twisting your face. You assured him it was nothing out of the ordinary, that you were, in fact, literally in labor, instructing him to just drive, please.

But as for all good things, you had to wait. And wait. And wait. You were settled, rather uncomfortably, mind you, in a homey delivery room for six hours before reaching the point of Oh, God, here it goes. It was nearly eight hours until the pain was too much to stand, quickly disabling you from walking about the room and chatting comfortably with your husband. You felt stabs and jolts of pain from between your legs and up your back for hours on end, only being able to wince and ride it out until the waves passed.

At times it was a bit much for Phil, he was never really the best when it came to you feeling unwell. He wished he could just wave a magic wand and have your pain be gone, or take it on himself at the least. But alas, that was not a possibility, so he did what he could. Holding and kissing your knuckles with a warmth so refreshingly soft. Stroking the top of your hair, fingertips gliding along your temples and forehead gently when the pain was especially bad. It was the best he could do to ease the discomfort, and for that you were infinitely grateful.

At the ten hour mark, or eleven or twelve (you could hardly keep track at this point), you were finally allowed to begin pushing. It was likely the most painful thing you’d ever endured, and it seemed to go on for hours more. With every groan and shout of discomfort you gave, Phil grew more nervous. He worried you’d get hurt, that something awful might happen to you or your child. So he sat as close to your side as he was allowed.

Anxiety finally swallowed Phil whole when the nurses announced some ‘complication’ with the birth. Your head was in a hazy cloud of pain and exhaustion that you didn’t understand what was the matter and couldn’t fight back. Your nervous Phil, however, was fully conscious and seemed about ready to cry when you were moved onto a wheeled bed that would transport you to an operating room.

Much of the following chaos was but a blur in your memory; you were drifting in and out of consciousness as a result of the pain for what felt like the longest time. When you did finally come to (that is, enough to really process reality), you were comfortably habituated in a clean hospital room, a red-eyed Phil huddled in a yellow armchair with a tiny powder-blue bundle in his arms. One of his large hands held the baby’s head with the gentlest caution, sweeping back the soft fuzz along his crown with a look of awe on his face. You couldn’t tell whether his eyes were red and rubbed raw because of emotion or exhaustion, probably a mixture of the two. You inhaled deeply to clear your head of any lingering pain and negativity.

Phil lifted his head from the infant’s face to yours. “You’re awake,” he smiled with a hushed voice, getting up and walking slowly to your side. All you could do was smile weakly in response. He bounced the boy gently in his arms as he sat next to you. Both of your arms were anchored to IVs, electrodes attached to various parts of your body, and Phil didn’t want to put pressure on your weak body, so he opted to sit at your side instead. “Look, it’s your Mummy,” he said softly to the half-asleep child, “she worked very hard to bring you here.” He smiled brightly at you, giggling in a fit of joy. You laughed too, it was rather funny how lucky you were to have such a wonderful man in your life. “She scared me half to death trying,” he continued, “that’s how much she loves you.” Phil brought the boy to his face, kissing his forehead and placing him back in the tiny bed next to yours.

You couldn’t bring your eyes away from the child. “He’s beautiful,” you said. Indeed he was. It looked as though some red hair was already beginning to show itself on the little one’s head, just like Phil.

Phil nodded and took your hands in his, kissing them lightly before kissing your lips. “As are you,” he cooed. The smile he wore didn’t leave his face for a moment. “But don’t you scare me like that ever again, okay?”

anonymous asked:

Little!phil (ily)

ily2

Also I did do one a long time ago if y’all care it sucks so fresh start time let’s go also might do a full fic on this one day but I go so many going rn

❥ Phil wore pretty pastel panties with cutesy matching thigh-high socks that Dan thought contrasted nicely against his white as snow skin.

❥ Dan would make sure to always touch Phil when he was in his little space. It wasn’t even sexual most of the time. Dan would run his fingers through Phil’s hair and hold him close while gently rubbing his sides in a comforting way.

❥ Phil tended to get quite silent in little space. It was quite opposite to his usual childish nature and it was perfectly ironic. 

❥ Even though Phil was quiet and moderately shy in his little space, Dan still knew that his baby wanted it rough and kinky.

❥ Phil would spout out breathy and high pitched whines as his noises of pleasure when Dan would fuck him.

❥ The two most used positions when Phil was feeling little was Phil riding Dan or Dan roughly fucking Phil doggy style

❥ Riding was good for when Dan wanted to see his baby all out of breath and panting on top of him while bouncing and satisfying himself on his daddy’s cock.

❥ Doggy style was good for when Phil wanted to be degraded and treated like a slut and a naughty boy. It was the prime position for Dan to spank Phil and fuck him at the same time.

❥ In the end, Phil always loved the intense aftercare Dan always gave him. Dan was always so caring and gentle with Phil afterwards and it made him feel loved. Dan could degrade him and be extremely rough but he always knew Dan would take care of him.

{。^◕‿◕^。} send me anything  {。^◕‿◕^。}

8

School Reunion - Behind the Scenes (Part 3)

Excerpts from Benjamin Cook’s article in DWM #370

In between takes, David Tennant chats happily with the pupils, who are volunteers - and wannabe TV stars - from local schools. “Have you broken it?” he exclaims, when one girl snaps her watchstrap. “Ooh dear, the whole show will collapse now! We’re gonna have to cancel cos you’ve broken your watch.”

Students, students, going to and fro, students, students, students.  In the middle of the throng are the Doctor, Sarah Jane, Rose, and Mickey. “It’s time I had a word with Mr. Finch,” the Doctor tells them, and heads into the school foyer.

“CUT” says James [Hawes, director], and then turns to Jon [Older, assistant director]. “The kids are walking in too fast. It needs to be five times as slow.”

“I’ve never seen anybody so keen to get to school,” agrees Elisabeth.

And then Noel thumps K9′s head so hard that one of his ears snaps off. “Is it broken?” asks the producer, Phil Collinson. “How long will it take to fix?”

It’ll take 10 minutes to fix, because the ear was linked to a servo.  K9′s side panel is removed once again, and out comes the screwdriver to fix it. “No twisting the ear this time,” says James.

“Can I pretend to twist it, though?” asks Noel.

“No! Be nice to the doggie!” replies Phil firmly.

Other School Reunion bts posts here: [ one ] [ two (chip) ] [ four ] [ five ]
The rest of my behind-the-scenes photosets are available [ here ]