Summary: While on the TATINOF american tour bus, Dan convinces Phil to leave their own private bunks in the middle of the night to spend the night in the “forbidden bedroom” at the back of the bus. But, spending the night together innocently isn’t what Dan has in mind. Add a suspicious unnamed tour manager and a bumpy road and things get interesting.
Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Warnings: Daddy kink, rimming, blowjobs, unprotected consensual sex
“Bye guys!” I smile, Dan smiles, waving at the enormous crowd ahead of us, flashing lights and squeals bombarding us.
We walk off the stage, and once my eyes adjust to the significantly darker lighting backstage, I suddenly become aware of Dan’s erratic behavior. He grimaces at every person who walks past us, pulling off his gold show-jacket as he speed walks into the dressing room.
“Dan?” I yell at him through the people, running after him.
He doesn’t stop, plowing past staff.
He slams the dressing room door in my face, and before I can say anything, I hear the lock click.
“Dan? Come on, what the hell is going on?” I pound on the door.
I stand there for a few minutes, assuring all the staff that he’s fine. I make up a lie about him having a stomache ache, and the stage lights made it worse.
I eventually sink to the floor, giving up my fight, talking to him through the door. I gasp for air, my lungs still not adjusting to the extremely high altitude of Colorado. Mile High City indeed.
request: one where betty is lowkey in love with the reader but she’s already with Cheryl and it starts to mess with the friendship…
• • •
You walked into the gymnasium, with a confident bounce in your step. Today was the day you would try out to be a River Vixen. With your countless hours of practice, and not to mention your girlfriend at the top of the pyramid, you basically had a guaranteed spot on the team.
You walked over to Betty and Veronica, your fairly close friends seeing as you only hung out with them on the rare occasion when Cheryl was too busy for you.
“You look hot.” Veronica said, sending a slight smirk in Betty’s direction. Betty was still gawking at you, her jaw slightly ajar as her eyes raked over your body.
“Thanks, Ronnie!” You blushed lightly at the compliment.
You looked around the room as you pulled your hair up into a ponytail. You watched the other river vixens as they did their warm ups and stretches.
“Are you nervous at all?” Betty questioned, finally gaining back her composure. Betty straightened out her posture and did her best to act like she didn’t want to rip your clothes of then and there.
“Nope, not at all! I think I have a pretty good shot.” You winked at both the girls. They understood that even if you completely butchered the routine Cheryl would still give you a spot on the river vixens.
Just then, familiar arms wrapped around your waist. You immediately relaxed into the warm, comfortable embrace of your girlfriend’s arms. She placed a quick peck on your cheek before turning you around to face her.
“Are you ready, babe?” Cheryl asked. You ran your fingers through her glorious ginger locks, keeping your hand at the nape of her neck.
“I was born ready.” You said, a cheesy grin on your face.
“Really? That’s the line you’re going with?” Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully at you.
“Shut up and let me feel cool for once.”
You pulled Cheryl in for a quick kiss, smudging her iconic, bright red lipstick on your mouth. You let Cheryl go, as the rest of the girls gather around on the sidelines to watch your performance.
You ended the routine with a wink at Cheryl. The rest of the vixens applauded and cheered for you. Most of the girls were shocked that you actually did perfect the routine and you actually earned a spot on the cheer team.
“You did amazing, y/n/n!” Betty beamed as she pulled you in for a hug. You quickly reciprocated the hug, thanking Betty for the compliment. Betty enjoyed holding you in her arms. It felt right to Betty, like that was where you were both meant to be.
Betty’s perfect hug didn’t last long though. Soon Cheryl came to steal you away from Betty. Betty watched from afar as you blushed profusely at your girlfriend’s praises and compliments. Betty watched from afar as you pulled Cheryl in for a quick, mostly-innocent kiss. She watched as you kissed her again. And again. And again. And again. Until she couldn’t bare to watch anymore. Until she couldn’t bare the thought of you kissing someone that wasn’t her.
“Maybe if you told her how you feel you wouldn’t have to suffer like this.“ Veronica suggested.
“I can’t, V. Not after what happened last time.” Betty sighed.
“You can’t just base everything off of Archie not returning your feelings. You just gotta take a chance.” Veronica said.
“Not gonna happen.” Betty dejectedly walked out of the gymnasium.
~ ~ ~
“Hey, Betty! Wait up!” You called down the hallway as Betty walked by, not sparing you a second glance.
It had been three weeks since Betty started avoiding you. When you tried texting her, her replies were short and simple. The second you tried to start a conversation, she wanted to end it. You weren’t upset about Betty not wanting to talk to you. You mad that she would try to just cut you off like nothing.
You walked after her quickly. “Betty wait.” You caught up to her, grabbing her arm to keep her from walking further. You turned her to face you.
“What do you want, y/n?” She questioned, seemingly annoyed.
“I want to know why you’ve been avoiding me.” You said. Betty wouldn’t meet your eyes which only added fuel to your fire.
Betty took a quick glance back towards your locker. As expected, Cheryl was waiting there for you. You followed Betty’s gaze and saw Cheryl fixing her makeup in the mirror hung up on your locker.
“This is about Cheryl, isn’t it?” You crossed your arms. After everything, you had hoped your friends were past all that hating Cheryl bullshit.
“Yeah, it is.” Betty admitted. “Of all people, why did you choose Cheryl?”
You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t quite figure out what it was about Cheryl that drew you to her in the first place. She was just so… Intriguing. You just had to know more.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Betty tried to walk away, but you grabbed her arm again.
“Why do you care about that? I thought we were past this.” You said, sadly.
By now Cheryl was listening in on the conversation, there wasn’t anyone in that hallway that wasn’t trying to.
“She’s not right for you!” Betty almost-shouted. “You could do so much better! She’s a self-centered, manipulative bitch–”
“Don’t you dare talk about her like that!” You cut Betty off. You calmed your will to slap Betty, not wanting to start something physical in front of all those kids in the hallway. “You don’t know her like I do. Why are you so sure she’s not right for me, huh?”
“Because she’s not–” Betty cut herself off, seemingly on the verge of tears. She shook her head softly, looking down at her feet.
“She’s not what, Betty? Spit it out!”
“She’s not right for you because she’s not me.” Betty almost whispered.
You were taken aback by that. You didnt even think Betty was even remotely gay. And if she was, you would have thought she’d go for Veronica.
“Betty …” You gave her small, sad smile. “I’m sorry but–”
“No, no I get it.” Betty let a few tears fall from her eyes. “Not everyone’s going to return my feelings. I’ve just gotta find someone who does.”
“You could’ve told me.” You said, pulling her in for a hug. Even though you didn’t love her romantically, you hated to see her so sad. “I’m glad you told me. Maybe one day.” You whispered the last part in her ear, making sure no one else would hear.
You pulled away from the hug, held Betty’s face in your hands and wiped away her tears with the pads of your thumbs. Then, you walked back over to Cheryl and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, keeping in mind that Betty has a raging crush on you and you shouldn’t be too affectionate towards Cheryl while around Betty. You didn’t want to push her away.
“What was that about?” Cheryl asked, as if she wasn’t listen the whole time. You knew she was listening. She knew you knew she was listening. But, Cheryl didn’t want to push anything. Cheryl was on cloud 9 knowing that you wouldn’t leave her for Betty.
“We can talk about it later.” You dismissed the question. You held out your hand for Cheryl to take. “Walk me to class?”
Just a suggestion for a Yuuri and Viktor fic, btw this is based off a We Bare Bears episode: Viktor and Yuuri are going on a flight together, before Viktor is Yuuri's coach, and Yuuri is fangirling his butt off only for Viktor to be terrified of heights AND airsick. It's fine if you can't write this/don't want to write it!
For Sick Days! 24: Anywhere but Here! … Too late.
This is set pre-series, during Yuuri’s first time on the Grand Prix circuit. Enjoy!
Yuuri cannot believe his luck. Seriously, what are the odds of ending up on the same flight as the Victor Nikiforov on his connecting flight from St. Petersburg to Paris? (Okay, now that he thinks about it, the odds are actually pretty reasonable.)
Did Yuuri book his trip just so that he would connect through St. Petersburg, where his world-famous idol lives? Perhaps. And now, having actually gotten a glimpse of Victor’s glorious silver locks and dazzling blue eyes, Yuuri feels that his decision was justified.
He’d been able to overhear most of Victor’s conversation with the paparazzi and the flight staff before boarding (and Mari had insisted that his Russian lessons were a waste of time!), not because he’s casually stalking Victor or anything; actually, it’s because there was a little bit of drama over Victor’s seating arrangements. The Russian skater had originally booked a first class ticket, but the staff was showing him as booked for coach. There’s a bit of back and forth between the two sides before Victor agrees to settle for the seat in coach that he’s been assigned.
Yuuri can’t help but notice the way his and Victor’s seats are situated-they’re right across the aisle from each other! You should at least try to say hi, or wish him luck while you have the opportunity, Yuuri tells himself. His inner voice sounds an awful lot like Pichit for some reason.
He’s so immersed in his debate on what to say that he almost misses his cue to board! Yuuri flushes as he snaps out of his daze, scrambling to grab his boarding pass and brushing his dark bangs out of his face. He hurries down the hallway leading to the plane and settles into his seat across from Victor, trying his best to not seem flustered or nervous. He can’t resist shooting little glances across the aisle at Victor whenever he thinks that his idol isn’t looking.
Once they take off and have been in the air for a while, Yuuri starts to notice that a couple things seem amiss. For one, Victor looks paler than usual-and Yuuri would consider himself an expert in how Victor’s face is supposed to look. He’s also swallowing convulsively, and his shoulders seem tense, and he’s not even reading a book or playing on his phone, instead staring blankly at the back of the chair in front of him. Something is definitely wrong.
Within the first thirty minutes of the flight, Victor makes a grand total of three trips to the bathroom; each time, when he returns to his seat, his face is even whiter and he seems shaky and weak. Still, Yuuri doesn’t quite put the pieces together until he hears a painful gag next to him.
At the awful sound, Yuuri’s head jerks up and he glances over just in time to see Victor retch again, the slim fingers of his right hand covering his mouth. Yuuri recognizes Victor’s dilemma immediately, and fumbles for the airsickness bag in the pocket of the seat back in front of him, placing it into Victor’s hands. Victor doesn’t even have the time to thank Yuuri before he’s pitching forward, groaning and bringing up a fresh wave of puke.
Yuuri is still star struck, but seeing Victor’s misery snaps him into action. He rubs Victor’s back as he continues to vomit and motions for a flight attendant.
“Could you bring me some anti nausea medicine, a washcloth, some water, and a fresh airsickness bag please?” he asks, gesturing to Victor, still dry heaving miserably into the bag.
By the time she returns with the aforementioned items, Victor’s heaving has tapered off and he’s sitting up a little straighter. Yuuri hands him the washcloth and water to clean up with; tucks the spare barf bag into the back of the seat in front of Victor.
“If you think that you can keep it down, the flight attendant brought some medicine for you to take.”
Victor nods gratefully, clearly exhausted from the vomiting, and swallows the pills with a gulp of the water bottle. Despite his clammy skin and the lack of color in his face, he’s still the most beautiful person that Yuuri has ever seen. He realizes that he’s staring and decides to beat a hasty retreat to his seat now that Victor seems more comfortable.
A hand on his arm stops him. “What’s your name?” Victor asks, his voice rough and hoarse from throwing up.
For a moment, looking into those beautiful sapphire eyes, Yuuri forgets his name and address and phone number and how to speak or think in general. Pichit’s voice rises unbidden to the surface of his mind, and Yuuri tries to calm his frazzled nerves.
“Yuuri Katsuki,” he squeaks out in a trembling voice. He clears his throat, tries again. “I’m Yuuri.”
“Yuuri? That’s a nice name,” Victor murmurs, sounding half asleep already. “Thank you for your help, Yuuri.”
He drifts off, leaving a stunned Yuuri in his wake. He’s pretty sure that Victor won’t remember this later-he’s really sick, after all-but this still feels like a precious moment to him.
In the middle of a crowded airplane, on the way to one of the biggest competitions of his career, Yuuri feels at peace.
“Feel better, Victor. And davai,” he whispers, leaving Victor to rest.
Why did y'all just let Jessi tell Jun to cut his hair and then went right along with it what the hell is wrong with y'all do you know how long it took for him to grow out those glorious locks from the high heavens and yet you disrespected it all so easily the glorious mane which improved so many lives what the f-
The door to the
bakery seemed heavier than usual as Marinette grimly headed out for school on
a particularly cold morning. Marinette glanced briefly at the paper hearts
decorating the bakery windows. She had cut each valentine by hand, alternating
between dreaming about Adrien, and cursing this lovey dovey season with each
cut of the scissors. She didn’t always hate Valentine’s Day, she didn’t
particularly hate it now, but the season of love could be quite discouraging
when you were hopelessly crushing on your unobtainable classmate.
was so consumed by her nonexistent love life that she didn’t notice the box
sitting just outside the bakery door. Which was rather unfortunate because
Marinette probably would have tripped over it even if she had seen it.
And trip she did. She fell with a huff on the cold sidewalk, cursing whatever
had caused her spill and gently checking that the sleeping kwami in her purse
was okay. Marinette turned as she picked herself up and let out a squeak of
surprise. The culprit of her fall was a large, once beautifully wrapped box.
Thanks to her clumsiness the gold bow was now a sad pile of ribbon and the pink
polka-dot wrapping paper was completely torn on one side.
**This was a request from my amazing follower, @pizzarollpatrol, for a love letter from Cas. I hope you like it. I’m actually kind of proud of this one.
It was super fun, and emotional, to write. Enjoy.
You hated mornings. Period. Who doesn’t? Getting up at the
ass crack of dawn to research how the monsters who go bump in the night are
murdering people who are oblivious of their existence. As far as you knew,
there wasn’t a positive thing about mornings, not one.
You turned to your beside table and grabbed your phone. You
flinched as something fell from the small table to the floor. Slowly peering
over the side of your bed, you stared at terrifying object.
It was February Thirteenth, the
day before Valentine’s Day, and the day before Marinette would know for sure
who her mystery man was.
note on the final gift read “I like you a
latte” (great; coffee humor for the person who didn’t even drink coffee).
It was a coffee mug. A coffee mug covered in kittens. If the puns hadn’t already been enough then this was
definitely the final straw. Her admirer couldn’t be anyone but Chat Noir. Alya
would be devastated- she had definitely been banking on Adrien being the
mystery man. Marinette groaned. She had just started to process her feelings
about Chat a couple days ago, how was she going to face him in just 24 hours?