#he crashes my app every time i open him in drafts

[gravitonbeamemitter]

woe round boy be upon ye

[wdcbox]

pancakes for dinner ⠀⠀⋆·˚ ༘ *⠀⠀lando norris.

pairing. lando norris x gn!reader.

word count. 4k.

summary. after siking yourself out on a long plane ride to london, you finally have the courage to confess your feelings to lando, even if it ruins your friendship. inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine.

warnings. mentions of a possible plane crash, hurt + comfort.

ellis’ addition. i am sososo proud of this. since lizzy is my brand, i of course wanted to use one of her songs as inspiration for a fic, so here ya go. once again, inspired by pancakes for dinner by lizzy mcalpine. for the lovely @lechrts ♡

the hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin, steady and unchanging, but it felt louder than it should, pressing into your ears like static. you shifted in your seat, the vinyl sticking slightly to your bare legs as you glanced at the glowing seatbelt sign above you.

the plane was still climbing, the ground was long gone, and clouds had swallowed the view. all that was left was the pale blue light filtering in through the window and the uneasy flutter in your chest.

you weren’t afraid of flying. you told herself that again and again, even as your fingers tightened on the edge of the tray table. it wasn’t the height or the turbulence or the fact that the plane felt impossibly heavy for something that stayed in the air – it was something else.

no matter how hard you tried to claw the thought away, it stuck in the back of your mind, a looming idea that poisoned your brain. no, what scared you wasn’t the plane at all. it was the though of him.

you could see his face in your mind, as clear as if he were sitting beside you. the messy hair he never bothered to brush, the crooked smile that made you laugh at all the wrong times, and the teasing like it wasn’t a big deal that you had heard it in his voice and no one else’s.

you closed her eyes, trying to block it out, but it didn’t help. you could still see him leaning against the doorframe the last night you two had hung out, his hand in his pocket, his gaze holding yours for a little too long before he cracked a joke to break the tension.

lando was an enigma – sort of a fungus that clung onto you for dear life. through his teasing and his sarcasm, he was still your friend at the end of it all. yet barely at this point as you started to view him as more of a lover you pined for than a disease that would never leave.

your stomach twisted, and you opened your eyes again, fixing your focus on the napkin crumpled on your tray table. the airline’s logo was printed in cheap blue ink. you smoothed it out, your thumb tracing over the words, but your thoughts didn’t stop.

what if the plane went down? what if you never got to tell him? the question gripped you, sharp and sudden, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. your heart hammered in her chest as the idea rooted itself deeper, impossible to shake.

it wasn’t some grand declaration. you weren’t brave enough for that, not yet. but there were smaller things you wanted him to know. like how you had watched every single race no matter the timezone difference, how you had memorized the exact way he ordered coffee, or how you missed him when he wasn’t around, even when nothing in your life seemed to change.

you grabbed your phone, your fingers fumbling as you opened the notes app. the cursor blinked on the blank screen, waiting. you felt the need to type out your feelings if you could even somehow put them into words. you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with lando, ultimately resulting in him distancing himself if he didn’t feel the same way – you knew it’d happen. but you still couldn’t shake the looming thought as turbulence hit, causing you to quickly begin typing like you were shakespeare drafting his next play.

it was a dull confession compared to your grand feelings for him, and you knew you’d never even tell him these words as the pilot announced you’d be landing in london soon. the paragraph of word vomit information sat staring at you, and you let out a shaky sigh as you locked your phone and shoved it into your pocket.

the plane landed with a shudder that rattled your teeth. the sound of tires screeching against asphalt dragged you out of your spiral of thoughts, but it didn’t erase the tension sitting heavy in your chest.

you moved through the motions like an automaton, gathering your bag from under the seat, waiting for the line of passengers to shuffle toward the exit, stepping off the plane and into the chaos of the terminal. your head buzzed with exhaustion, but your thoughts refused to quiet. lando was there, waiting somewhere beyond the baggage claim, which only caused your head to spin even faster.

your heart thrummed as you approached the carousel, watching strangers reunite around you – families embraced, couples kissed, and friends called out in excitement. you scanned the crowd for lando, your palms clammy against the strap of your carry-on bag. and then you saw him.

lando was leaning against a column near the exit, his phone in one hand, his other shoved into his jacket pocket. his hair was messier than usual, like he hadn’t bothered to tame it before coming here, and his sneakers tapped against the floor in a distracted rhythm. when he looked up and saw you, his whole face lit up. his smile was lopsided, and he waved with his phone like an idiot. you wanted to laugh. you wanted to run. instead, you froze.

the car ride was quiet, quieter than usual. lando had turned the music on – some rap music with a fast rhythm – but you barely heard it over the thundering of your own heartbeat.

lando kept glancing at you. not obviously, just quick flicks of his eyes, like he could sense something, was off. normally, you’d make a joke, deflect, steer the conversation back into the usual rhythm. but now, you stayed quiet, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

“you sure you’re okay?” lando asked finally, his voice gentle. the streetlights illuminated his face, showing every freckle and curve of his skin, causing you to grow sick all over again. he was perfect and it made your stomach reel, your heart doing backflips like some olympic gymnast.

you nodded quickly, too quickly, and tried to force a smile, “yeah, just tired. long flight – jet lag and all.” you forced out a laugh as if you were trying to pry back your friendly banter, but in the end, it was entirely useless.

lando didn’t press, but the furrow between his brows stayed. he knew something was wrong. lando could have his stupid moments, but he was far from dumb. you prided yourself on being a half opened booked, but lando had read the whole thing.

when you pulled into lando’s driveway, the motion of the car stopping felt like a jolt back to reality. the headlights illuminated the front of his flat, familiar and safe, but it felt different now, like the air had shifted.

“c’mon,” lando hummed softly, cutting the engine, “i’ll grab your bag.” you smiled softly at his kindess, but part of you knew he was doing it out of pity. lando knew something was up, and despite the fact he didn’t push for an answer, you knew he would as the night passed on.

you followed him up the steps to his flat door, your stomach twisting into knots. the closer you got, the more real it felt. you had been here a hundred times before, sprawled on lando’s couch or rummaging through his fridge, but this time was different. this time, you felt as if you were about to ruin everything.

lando unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. the smell of the flat was familiar, some stupid cashmere candle he had bought that was practically nearly out of wax, but it smelt like home.

“you want something to eat? i bet you’re hungry after snacking on plane peanuts. i told you i would have bought you first class, but noo, you’re too good for that,” lando teased, setting your bag by the door before advancing into the kitchen, “or maybe a drink? i think i’ve got—”

“can we talk?” you blurted out, leaning against the kitchen island for some sort of support as you felt dizzy. you didn’t mean to interrupt lando, burt your mind was swimming a mile a minute, your skin itching at the fact you needed to say something.

lando froze mid-step, his hand hovering over the light switch. the easy smile on his face faltered, replaced by something softer, more cautious, confused at the fact you didn’t rebuttal his words or even laugh. “yeah,” lando spoke slowly, “of course. what’s up?”

you glanced around the living room, at the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, at the coffee table littered with takeout containers and a half-empty mug. everything about lando’s place screamed him. familiar. safe. but your chest felt anything but safe now.

“can we sit?” you questioned, your voice quieter now as you already started to make your way to the couch without even a nod from lando. your hands shook at your side, immediately resting on your lap and fiddling with one another as you took a seat, the plushness of the couch consuming you.

lando nodded and followed behind you, a nervous chuckle falling from his lips, “sure. you’re kind of freaking me out, though. is everything okay?” his body sat down on the couch next to you, his knee inches away from yours as his eyes began to search your face for any idea of what was going on inside your head.

you hesitated, your feet rooted to the floor for just a second too long before you let out a soft sigh. lando’s body sank down onto the couch, one arm draped over the back, as his gaze never faltered. 

you inhaled slightly. if you didn’t say it now, you’d never bring yourself to try to convey your emotions to lando’s face again. the idea of what would have occurred if the plane went down played over and over again in your head, snapping you back into reality.

lando shifted on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his gaze still locked on your nervous expresion. the concern in his eyes deepened, and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“is something wrong?” lando questioned, his voice low and careful as his eyebrows furrowed, “are you okay? is it –” his jaw tightened softly, “is it your family?” his assumption shocked you at first, but it just came to remind you that lando cared despite what was about to happen.

you blinked, quickly collecting yourself, “what? no, it’s not –”  “work, then?” lando cut in, his words coming quicker now, “did something happen at your job?” he tried to dig for answers, to push as hard as he could as if he was on track, and it barely gave you time to cool your mind.

“no! no, nothing like that!” you said quickly, your hands waving in front of you like you could physically push the idea away. lando exhaled a sharp breath and leaned back, his shoulders  relaxing slightly, “okay, good. you were scaring me for a second there.” he let out a deep sigh, a chuckle interrupting his action.

you pressed your lips together, your stomach twisting. this wasn’t how you imagined this going – not that you had imagined it going smoothly, but still. “i’m fine,” you spoke softly, more to reassure yourself than anything else, “it’s not ... bad, exactly – it’s just hard to explain.”

lando tilted his head, studying you with that same careful expression he always wore when he was trying to figure something out, “alright, take your time, i guess. i’m listening.” the sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten. of course, he was listening, he always did. that was part of the problem.

you looked down at her hands, twisting your fingers together, your palms damp as if you were having a stroke. you felt lando’s eyes on you, steady and unrelenting, like he wouldn’t look away until he knew you were okay.

“you’re sure you’re okay?” lando asked again, softer this time – he was beginning to genuinely worry. you nodded, but the motion felt hollow. your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

“i just need a minute,” you murmured, and like he had in the car, he didn’t press on. instead, he leaned back into the couch, giving you space, but his gaze stayed fixed on your frame. the silence stretched between the two of you, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen.

finally, he let out a quiet laugh, breaking the tension just enough to make you glance up at him with a hint of confusion. “you know,” he spoke, his tone light but his smile nervous, “if this is you telling me you’re moving to antarctica or something, i might actually cry.”

your lips twitched into a smile despite yourself, “what?” “i’m serious,” lando spoke, raising a hand in mock solemnity, “you can’t just drop a we need to talk bomb on me and expect me not to assume the worst. if you’re planning to disappear or something, at least give me some notice.”

you shook your head, a small laugh escaping her before she could stop it, “i’m not moving to antarctica or running away or anything – at least not yet.” your second attempt to bring back the usual friendly banter had began to work as you let out another chuckle. “good,” lando hummed, his grin softening, “because i don’t think i’d survive that.”

your heart twisted at the words, even though you knew he didn’t mean them the way you wished he did. lando was feeding into your jokes, trying his hardest to pry the confession out of you slightly, and you found it working as you let out another nervous sigh.

your sigh faded, leaving the air thick again. lando was looking at you, the teasing edge in his expression softening into something warmer, more patient. he wasn’t going to let this go, and you knew it. he never did.

you took a deep breath, your fingers now curling into the fabric of your shirt. “it’s not about antarctica,” you spoke, your voice quieter now, “it’s about you.” lando’s brows furrowed slightly, the easy grin slipping from his face, “me?” confusion filled the air and you couldn’t tell if he was oblivious or plain stupid.

“yeah,” you spoke, your gaze nervously dropping to your lap. you couldn’t look at him, not yet. “i’ve been thinking a lot about us. about all the things i want to do. not just, like, big things, but .. little things too.” the room felt impossibly still, your words hanging between the two of you. you pressed on before your courage dissolved completely.

“like .. i want to watch dumb movies with you – the ones you always tell me about but i never get around to watching. and i want to sit on your couch and argue about whose turn it is to pick dinner, even though we both know we’re going to give in and order pizza anyway.”

your voice trembled, but you forced yourself to keep going, “i want to have pancakes for dinner, just because we can, even though you’ll probably put too much syrup on them and make a mess. i want to watch a tv show together and if we’re too exhausted, we can watch it in bed.”

you glanced up at lando, your breath catching at the way he was looking at you. his expression was unreadable, his lips slightly parted, his eyes wide like he didn’t dare blink as you began. “and i want ..” your voice wavered, but you didn’t stop, “i want all those things with you because they matter to me. you matter to me. more than i ever thought someone could.” the words felt like they had been wrenched out of you, leaving your chest hollow and aching. your hands gripped the couch cushion, waiting for lando to say something, anything.

for a long moment, he didn’t. lando just stared at you, his brows furrowed like he was trying to process what you had just said. “you want .. pancakes for dinner?” he asked finally, his voice so soft it made your heart ache.

you laughed, the sound weak and trembling, but it felt like a release. you couldn’t fathom that out of all of that, that’s what he was confused about. “yeah,” you spoke softly, “i want pancakes for dinner. with you, and everything else.”

lando’s lips twitched, and then, slowly, a smile broke across his face. a real one, not the teasing, lopsided grin you were so used to. this one was softer, warmer, like he was looking at you for the first time.

the smile on lando’s face lingered, but it quickly gave way to a softer, almost uncertain look. he took a breath, like he was trying to gather his thoughts, but he still didn’t break eye contact. “you have no idea how badly i want to say that sounds perfect,” lando spoke quietly, his voice carrying a weight of honesty you hadn’t expected. your heart skipped, but you swallowed the hope rising in your chest, unsure where this was going.

“but ..” lando hesitated, the hesitation enough to make your stomach drop, “but i’m not great at this kind of thing – saying my feelings and shit,” he continued, his gaze flickering away briefly, his hands fidgeting. “i’m a mess with timing, and i’m not always around, and, you know, i can’t be that guy who just shows up whenever, especially when we’re not always in the same place. it’s easier to say i want all those things, but actually ..” he trailed off, his words fading, and you saw the conflict in his eyes, the worry.

you bit your lip, your chest tightening. lando feels the same way, but he's scared. the realization hit you like a wave, pulling you under with the weight of it. you opened your mouth to respond, but lando beat you to it.

“i know it sounds like an excuse, and i don’t want to make it seem like i’m backing out of anything, but i’ve got this tendency to overthink everything,” lando spoke, his voice thick with vulnerability, “i don’t want to promise something i can’t follow through on, and i hate that i’m not better at being here – at being present. and i hate how much i want to say yes, but i’m scared.”

your heart clenched as lando looked at you, the rawness in his gaze making your heart ache for him. your heart was beating as fast as it possibly could as you tried to hide the overwhelming emotion on your face. you tangled your fingers together again, taking a deep breath.

“i just don’t want you to think that it’s you, or that i don’t care because i do – so much, too much,” lando reached out then, his hand hovering between the two of you for a moment before he placed it gently on yours. the contact felt like an anchor, grounding you in the storm of his words.

“i want all those things with you too,” lando whispered, his thumb brushing over your hand like he couldn’t help it,“pancakes for dinner. arguing over pizza. nights in – all of it, but i don’t want to let you down.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, the mix of relief and uncertainty flooding you all at once. the long distance, the uncertainty, the timing – it all felt so complicated, yet here he was, laying it all out, just like you had.

you squeezed lando’s hand gently, your heart full of more than you had expected. “i don’t need you to be perfect,” you spoke softly, your voice steady now, as your confidence grew, “i don’t need every moment to be planned. i just need to know that you want it too – that you want me. even if it’s messy, even if we’re not always in the same place.”

for a moment, the two of you just sat there, the quiet between each other not awkward, but comfortable. your hand in lando’s, the soft weight of his fingers against yours grounding you, soothing the chaos you had been carrying.

“i want you,” lando spoke up, his voice so certain now it made your heart flutter, “more than anything. i just ..” he took a deep breath and squeezed your hand back, “i guess i was just scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

your breath caught, and you smiled, a soft, genuine smile that spread slowly across your face. “i do,” you hummed, your voice filled with the kind of certainty you hadn’t known you were capable of,  “i feel the same way.”

the silence between both of you deepened, but this time, it wasn’t filled with uncertainty or hesitation. it was filled with the space where everything unspoken lived – the things you both knew, but hadn’t dared to say out loud until now. lando was still holding your hand, but now there was something more in the way as his fingers curled around yours. it wasn’t just comfort anymore. it was a promise.

“i don’t know how easy this is going to be,” lando spoke softly, his voice more vulnerable than you had ever heard it. “i don’t know how many times i’ll mess it up or how far apart we’ll be soemtimes, but,” lando paused, gathering his thoughts as if the weight of them were settling in, “but i know i don’t want to keep walking away from something that feels this real.”

your heart skipped once again. you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear him say that until the words were out. the words seemed all too poetically beautiful for lando, but you knew he was speaking his mind, even though his thoughts were complex.

“me neither,” you murmured, squeezing his hand tighter, “i don’t care how messy it gets, i just don’t want to keep pretending it’s not there.” lando’s smile was small but genuine, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “yeah,” he agreed quietly, “pretending just doesn’t work anymore, does it?” “no,” you spoke softly, “it doesn’t.”

the both of you sat there for a moment longer, both lost in the gravity of the decision you had just made – realizing that, despite the complications, despite the distance and uncertainty, you were choosing each other. even if it was hard, even if it didn’t make sense.

“you know,” you spoke up again, your voice hesitant but growing steadier with every word, “i think i’m okay with things not being perfect. in the end, nothing is really perfect, and i like it that way.” lando nodded slowly, a small smile christening his face, his hand still holding yours, “me too.”

you looked at lando, and for the first time, you didn’t see the nervous, unsure guy who’d been so cautious before. you saw someone who was ready to take that leap, even if it scared him, even if there would be highs and lows.

“i don’t want to waste any more time,” lando spoke, his voice breathy, “so, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. no more second-guessing. no more running away. no more hiding our feelings.” your heart swelled at his words, the promise behind the two of you feeling like everything you had ever wanted, but thought you couldn’t have. “yeah,” you whispered, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “no more running.”

lando leaned forward, gently brushing his lips against your forehead in a soft, slow kiss. it was simple, but it felt like everything. the weight of all your unspoken feelings was there, in that moment, and you knew it wasn’t just about what you had said, it was about the choice you were both making.

“i don’t know what comes next,” lando spoke after pulling back, his voice still soft, “but i know i don’t want to do it without you.” your chest tightened in that familiar way, the warmth spreading through you like sunshine, “me neither.”

[bleachedjuice]

'Adrenaline high' pt2

Reason why it took so long for this part to come out(I planned on having this out yesterday)was due to the fact that mid writing this my Tumblr crashed and when I opened the app again my draft had been deleted so i had to rewrite it all again.

But I hope you all are having an amazing day and are taking care of yourselves and have eaten or drank something today and if not please go do that now. And above all please enjoy part 2 :)

Warning: foul language, gun fire,and mentions of blood

There's a ton of things in life you'd confidentially say that you've done in life or can live with or have checked off the little list of life.

But being fully ass deep in a swamp with Simon Fucking Riley would not be one of them on your list.

Your body was crouched low as the hindering feeling of thick mud water swarmed at you upper thigh,cutting off just below your ass,which you where utterly most thankful as you did not even want to start thinking above the kinds of things that where in this water at the moment as you trampled through it. Your gun laid heavy in your hand as your muscles twitched at every little sound and noise on reflex,your fingers grazing the trigger as you marched behind the silent Ghost. The crickets swarmed like a buzzing to your ears and to the area around you,which in any case blocked out any silence that would have been between you and the hulking figure in front of you. And to be frank,you'd take the silence any day of the week over the constant and guttural egging of the chips coming from all around. And then you listened as a crackle came alive in your ear piece and a voice boomed through it.. Prices voice to exact. It was stern and straight to the point. Good. The quicker they got this done,the quicker they can get out of this forsaken fucking place.

"Remember boys,In and out. Get the hard drive and then get to the rendezvous point where a helo will be waiting for pick up."

And then a click sounded and then nothing..leaving you both back into the utter feeling of awkwardness as the crickets around you seemed even louder,like a taunt this time.

"Once we get to the point we'll split,you'll be acting as outside watch and I'll be in and out. Understand?" His gaze met yours almost lazily as a nod came from you as you then continued on,now next to him as you both approached the ledge that showed to be the way out of the swamped area.

Once you both where able to get out of the swamps murky water you set off Once more,hiding in the brush and weaving like lions toward its prey would,and then you both stopped Once reaching the gates..the ware house looked empty..too empty,shooting a look to the other man he nodded and off he went,and like clock work you both went your separate ways and out of eachothers sight. Crouching low into the grass you watched the building as your layed down onto your stomach and your muscles locked into position like pistons just waiting to explode as you settled into place,keeping track of the time as it went...and watching it..and waiting through the scope of your sniper rifle..

You glanced down to check your watch after what seemed to be forever and your brows crinkled in confusion at the time it read,10 minutes have passed..? Then where the hell was?

Not wasting time to finish the thought you clambered to your feet and made quick work on the couple feet ahead of you as you approached the side Ghost had taken off to,and found a window slanted open.. hoisting your gun over your back you lifted yourself up and into the cracked window and onto the wooden and dusty floor your boots went, creating a muffled sound as you winced at it. Someone definitely heard it. You reached for your earpiece to try and Connect to Rileys channel a sickening sound caused you to freeze, a loud smashing sound and then a Grunt followed by a thud. And just like that you where moving with a blade in your hands tracking the area in which the commotion had came from. And then in the door way sickeningly lit by the moon you stared at a knocked unconscious ghost with a small puddle of blood was forming as well as a smashed board of wood that layed a couple inches front Ghosts head. And then your eyes locked on the other hulking figure that was crouched over Simon's body..and a glint caught you eyes. And just like a Piston you exploded in action.

Leaping onto the man you grabbed his shoulders and used the momentum of your jump to yank him with you to the left and sending you both to the hard wooden floor, once your spine even grazed the ground you used you knee to send a quick kick his open legs and then kicked him away with your other leg,your blade sinking into his throat as you shoved him away sprawling to the ground with a harsh thud a few inches from you,scrambling you rolled into a crouch above Simon's unconscious body,your body shaking from adrenaline as you pushed the large man onto his back and off his stomach and frantically searching for a pulse and found relief into finding one..and then before you knew your hands where already flying to a capsul on your belt and out came a needle,flicking it sharp edge you shot Ghost a sorry look before slamming it harshly into his right arm and injected it,and just as soon as the needle left his arm and was thrown somewhere,a harsh force shot you into the ground gasping for air as a grip around your throat formed..and just as soon as it had happened,it was gone. And there in front of you was a bewildered looking Ghost,whose chest was heaving and a hand was cradling a wound on his Rib..blood. And then in his other hand in a vice grip remained a hard drive..no..multiple In a baggy. And a apologetic look crossed his face,but before a single word could escape either of your mouths shooting and sounds of many people stomping you way caused both your heads snapped at the commotion that sounded a bit to close from comfort from the doorway... "Fuck,Do you think you can stand?" With a nod he got to his feet and almost as though he wasn't bleeding out he watched you scrambled to your feet as your pulled out a pistol from its holster that lay at your hip..

The sound was getting closer and from the looks of it,Simon looked as though he was going to pass out any second. And with a single fleeting moment you grabbed a chair with one hand and whipped it toward the only window in the room and watched it utterly crumble at the chairs impact..

Oh who knew a mission like this could have gone so horrible fucking wrong...

After moments of clambering and gun fire you both found yourself scrambling through the thicket of the wooded swamp area around you,or well you as you where now supporting Ghosts limping figure as he stumbled with your hurried stride. You where almost dragging him at this point as red filled his grip on his side and that urged the adrenaline in your body to be able to even hold his huge body up at this point. And then as you turned and fired another shot a clicking sound made your heart drop..out of bullets in the only gun that was able to be grabbed at the moment and you where not about to ask a now passing out Simon riley to grab your gun at your other hip. Tossing the gun somewhere you kept running not even daring a glance back as gun fire rained upon you two as you ran.

Breaking out into the opening you watched as a helo landed a couple of feet ahead of you two and out came Alejandro and soap who where both racing toward you two with guns firing past yous like hell was on their asses. Which opened a second for you to let a twinge of relief release itself into your body for a split moment.

Not even giving a second to talk they grabbed the now almost limp ghost off your aching shoulder as you ran behind them and into the helo. The adrenaline still pounding in your ears by the time they had ghost secured and stopped the bleeding had vanished and your shoulder ached heavily as you sat and felt a pounding feeling in your head swarm. It was only then when soap had stopped to try and talk to you..key word..try.

Anything that had came out his mouth was muffled out by the high pitch ringing in your ears..and then you felt it,the utter pain that was exploding into your shoulder like a heart beat..you lurched forward to steady yourself as a harsh breath came from your lungs..and your hand shot up to you shoulder only to feel something wet and warm,causing you to quickly retract your hand as your vision blurred...red?.. you looked up to soap only to find him yelling incoherent words to Alejandro as you felt your self and any conscious you where clinging to utterly crumble and fade to black as you felt yourself hit the cold ground of the helo with a harsh thud with the last sight before everything going black was a hand belonging to someone reaching out toward you as everything went sickeningly black...

After many moments of darkness and quiet you felt your body fly awake and then the next thing you awoke to with a sickening gasp as you snapped awake was a fucking skeleton mask...his mask...just a couple inches from your face....

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[comeoncomeout41]

I just watched the Elf episode of The Holiday Movies That Made Us on Netflix after remembering that I started writing an Elf supercorp AU for Christmas in 2018 (don’t judge me) and found my old notes app first draft so Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah! MAYBE I’ll finish it this year... (she said as a lying liar who lies.)

*The fic in which Kara’s pod crash landed at the North Pole, 13 years later her adopted elf mother Eliza and her elf sister Alex tell her about her cousin Kal now Clark Kent and she decides to go to Metropolis to meet the only other person like her. She meets Lena “naughty list” Luthor. And Clark and Lois are Jewish.

🔥🎄🎄🎄🧝‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Some elves are born to work in Santa’s workshop. Kara Zor-El, however, was not born an elf or even from this earth for that matter.

When her pod crash landed at the North Pole thirteen years ago, she had no memory of a lost planet, no recollection of a cousin she was sent to protect who had already grown up to become Superman, and no idea how to be an alien living with elves. Santa was perturbed as to what to do with a skittish teenaged alien who cringed at the sound of tiny hammers building toys.

The elf doctor, Eliza Danvers, having a daughter around Kara’s age, naturally stepped in to help raise her, teach her elf culture, and attempt to control her powers. There were several mishaps of course.

Kara’s eyes lit up the first time she saw a Christmas tree. Literally. The green pine was burned to a crisp with her heat vision. But she quickly uprooted another tree from outside the elf village and helped Alex redecorate the new tree. And spent several hours carefully placing the new lights and ornaments, after breaking several of the glowing strings of light and the ornate red and blue colored bulbs. When Alex had trouble reaching the top of the tree, Kara swooped her up under her arms to help her place the star on the tree. And she managed to only break one of Alex’s ribs in the process.

After years of being at the North Pole, Kara was actually a wonderful toy maker once she learned to control her strength. When other elves managed to meet their five hundred toy quotas, Kara would have five thousand toys completed. The workshop wouldn’t need any teddy bears for another century, but finding storage for all of the toys Kara built was becoming difficult.

So from there, Kara’s primary job became Elf Master of Letters. She spends several hours each day answering letters for Santa as Santa’s tight schedule and the millions of letters he received each year became too much for the old bearded man. And although she always needed a little proofreading as the different Earth languages were sometimes difficult and much different than her native alien tongue, she enjoyed writing and speaking to children all over the world, bringing them the joy of Christmas.

Alex read over the letter Kara had just finished typing. Her younger but much bigger sister looked to her with a twinkle in her eyes and waited patiently. When Kara saw the red ink marked all over Kara’s letter she cooed and gasped, “That red is so pretty Alex. I know Raymond in Denver will love it! He told me red was his favorite color. I wanted to tell him that’s Santa’s favorite color too! But I didn’t want to give all of the big man’s secrets away, you know?”

Alex sighed and rested her hand on her sister’s shoulder, “Kara, these are your typos. Look here.”

Alex pointed to the last line, “Beleiving isn’t singing. Singing is beleiving.”

“He asked if he could see what the North Pole looks like. I set him straight. Believing isn’t singing. Singing is believing. That was in that one Santa Claus movie you had me watch, which I know isn’t historically accurate or based on true events, but I still,”

“Kara, remember your English spellings. I before e except after c? And it’s seeing not singing.

“Except in some cases like neighbor and weigh. And I just thought! It’s a play on words because ‘the best way to spread Christmas cheer, is singing loud for all to hear!’”

Alex smiled at her then, “You’ll get the hang of it.“

“Yeah, okay so I can’t spell that great, but the writing was good right?” Kara looked hopeful.

Alex shoved her shoulder, “You know you have more Christmas spirit than any other elf. Now come on and fix these typos, so we can go drink hot chocolate with Mom.”

That night when Kara had gone to bed, belly full of twelve drumsticks, eleven pickled peppers, ten cups of hot chocolate, nine hams glazed, eight glasses of milk, seven strudel pastries, six white chocolate goose eggs, five onion rings, four carrot cakes, three French bagels, two turtle chocolates, and a chocolate pecan pie, she curled up on her elf sized bed. Eliza had knit a fourth blanket onto her elf quilt the previous month when her toes started peeking out at the bottom. Alex had tucked her in tonight, making certain she was snug as a bug in a rug in the tiny bed, wishing sweet dreams of sugarplums dancing in her head.

She was content, happy, home and tomorrow would be her thirteenth birthday at the North Pole. What more could her life possibly be, what could be more rewarding than being apart of the magic that brought Christmas to children all over the world? And still Kara thought of that world and all of the little lights that wrote those letters to Santa, the gleaming eyes of all who opened presents on Christmas morning, and she wondered if any of them were like her. If they could hear the faintest sounds of snow falling or reach up and touch the clouds. If they could roast chestnuts with their eyes or see through all those pretty presents wrapped neatly under the tree. If the people of this world could believe that Santa would come every year to bring them gifts, then she had to believe that somewhere out there, there was someone else who was just like her.

That night Kara dreamed of a beautiful red sunset and little baby boy named Kal. It all felt so real, seeing him jet across the sky in a similar pod to the one Kara had found in an abandoned workshop years ago, knowing it must have been how she found her home. She wrote a letter to Santa as soon as she woke up, asking him to find a home for Kal for Christmas.

_____

Kara had been in trouble a bit, always an accident, because really how was it her fault if Blitzen couldn’t keep up with her? He could have flown faster if he hadn’t eaten all of that maple syrup and maybe then he wouldn’t have been left behind! She carried him back the whole way anyway! After she found him three days later in the Swiss Alps.

But this time when she was called to Santa’s office and Eliza and Alex sat patiently waiting for the charges from the big boss, Kara didn’t know why she was here at all, or rather, now she was on the floor with wood debris around her rear because the little chair was a lot lower than she had anticipated. That was the tenth one this month.

Santa cleared his throat and rubbed his white bearded chin, “I read your letter, and I spoke to your mom and sister. I think they have something they’d like to tell you.”

Kara widened her eyes and looked to her mom, “Are we going to adopt Kal? Like you adopted me? Please say we can Eliza. I promise I’ll teach him myself how to control his powers, and I can build him a crib myself. I’ll even chop down the tree for the wood and we can,”

Eliza cupped Kara’s face and kissed her forehead, a tear prickling at the corner of her eye, “Do you remember Kal now sweetie? Do you remember Krypton?”

Kara blew out her breath in bewilderment, “Krypton? What’s that? Is that where I’m from? Is it in Canada? I’ve always felt I was probably a Canadian because I don’t get cold at the North Pole, and I make the best maple syrup every year during the elf Christmas party.”

Santa nodded, “Its true, you really do.”

Alex gasped, “you know you’re not an elf?”

Kara chewed at her fingernails, “Well I’m not, am I? I’m bigger than all of you and I can lift a Christmas tree over my head like it’s mistletoe and fly with reindeer and all sorts of stuff. I’ve known for awhile I’m not from here, but this is still my home. You two are still my family.”

Alex held back all her unshed tears, “But you have other family out there, and we can’t keep you from knowing about Kal anymore.”

So that day Kara cried when Santa showed her the picture of Kal, or Clark Kent as he was called on Earth, glasses askew and a beautiful woman on his arm. Clark without the glasses bearing what she was told was her family crest, the House of El, taking up the mantle of Earth’s greatest hero, Superman. She had crafted thousands of figurines of her only living blood relative, and yet she hadn’t the faintest idea that she had been sent to protect him for all of these years. He had grown up, not alone at least. He was raised in Kansas on a farm, and now he lived in Metropolis with his wife Lois Lane and their son Jonathan Kent.

“Does he even know I exist?”

_____

Kara changed into her best elf attire and her bright red boots that Eliza had made her for Christmas, letting her open one present before she left. Today was the day that she would fly to Metropolis and meet her cousin for the first time. She couldn’t wait, but the dread at leaving Alex and Eliza settled deep in the pit of her stomach. And all of the letters to Santa she still wanted to respond to sat neatly at her desk in her room.

She was leaving behind her entire life at the North Pole. She told herself she wasn’t losing her home, but it still felt like it. Santa’s workshop, Eliza and Alex, it was all she had ever known or could remember. Would it be the same when she came back? Would her room still smell like a gingerbread house and would her stocking still hang by their chimney with care? Would Kal come with her or would she split her time between Kal and Alex and Eliza like some children who get double presents when their parents divorce?

Alex knocked on her door and waltzed in, “Hey Kara, mom made you something to take to Kal. There’s a winter storm over Greenland, you should probably get going soon.”

Kara wiped the tears from her eyes and her sister rushed to hug her. She had to bend down a little and lift Alex off the ground, but no way was she leaving without giving her sister a proper hug.

“I’m going to miss you and mom so much, Alex. I’ve never been away from home for more than a few hours, how am I going to make it to Christmas without you both? Will you even still want me back?”

Alex nuzzled closer, “You better come back because I don’t want to imagine this place without you. Who’s going to lift the fridge so mom can sweep under it hmm? Who’s going to change all of the light bulbs in the workshop when they blow out? Who’s going to drink hot chocolate with me and watch Hallmark movies in July?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head and deposited Alex on the floor, “I thought you hated the Hallmark channel.”

Alex simply rolled her eyes, “But I love spending time with my sister, and I love you, you big sap. I swore I wasn’t going to cry.”

Feeling slightly better Kara shoves her sister’s shoulder, a little too hard and catches her before she falls, “I love you too, dork. Don’t open the present I got you until you get back, pinky swear?”

Alex locks pinkies with Kara and kisses her thumb, “I’ll miss you. Please be safe. No breaking the sound barrier, watch out for pigeons because there’s a lot in Metropolis or so I’ve read. And when you see Kal remember to call him Clark Kent.”

“Got it, and don’t eat anything I don’t buy myself or anything not given to me by Clark, Lois, or Jonathan because there’s a high chance it’s not candy.”

Kara hugged Eliza for thirty minutes after that, and then Alex for another ten minutes before waving goodbye to Santa and all of the elves at his workshop. Metropolis wasn’t so far for her to fly, and she’d be home in no time.

She coasted through the peppermint sparkled glaciers, touched the northern lights, sailed through the skies above the Arctic Ocean, grazed the top of the Daily Planet, and landed atop the small two bedroom apartment building on the rent controlled side of town. Inside the windows of the corner apartment on the top floor, Kara saw Kal with his family, lighting candles, looking happy and calm. She decided to wait until morning to meet Kal, Clark, alone.

She listened into the city around her, all of the heartbeats like a million tiny hammers beating together, all except one. Kara flew the city, pinpointing the sound, admiring all of the lights on all the trees in all of the buildings and all the shining multicolored bulbs lining the streets. And it was there, in the tallest tower of the tallest building, one light shone through the wall to wall window, a small desk lamp in the large office. At the desk a woman with jet black hair and skin as white and fair as snow sat, typing away at her computer, nibbling on the pen in her mouth. She strained her long elegant neck, and stretched her arms above her head before getting back to work.

Kara glanced below the balcony to the street corner, finding what she knew the young woman needed. She floated down to the alley and walked into a coffee shop, took some time figuring out how to pay for a cup of coffee with the paper and coin money that Santa had given her before she left. Smiled and thanked the cashier for helping her, put one of the bills in his tip jar (it was a hundred.) She quickly flew into the woman’s office, left the coffee on her desk, and flew out of sight, feeling a little like Santa herself in the moment.

The woman grabbed the coffee absentmindedly and sipped, not expecting it to be so hot Kara sees her fanning her mouth and frantically searching the room with her eyes. When she turns to peer out her balcony, Kara sees her face, hard jaw line, soft endearing green eyes. She smiles as the woman screams and locks her balcony door as the windows go pitch black.

[teriwrites]

2020 Writing Wrap-Up

Something that I do every year on the 1st is go back through absolutely everything I’ve written throughout the previous year and compile it into one massive word document. Everything from outlining notes to unfinished short stories to my NaNo project wind up in that file, where I like to read back and reflect on what I’ve gotten done through the year. 

Every year, I end up having written more than I expected, and this year was no different! 

Total for 2020: 203,119!

This is the first recorded year (I think it’s year 4 that I’ve done this for?) in which I’ve cracked 200K! It’s also the first year I’ve ever actually followed through on my resolution to share some of my writing online! So as rough as 2020 has been, I still somehow managed to break some personal records in writing. Which probably has everything to do with the fact that I joined this community earlier this year, and it’s been incredibly encouraging and supportive!

I also branched out a bit more this year in a few ways. I worked on some poetry and prose, which is not something I’ve put a lot of time into before so tends to be a challenge. It’s nothing that I’ll be posting anytime soon, but it was fun to work on in the moment, which is especially important in such a wild year as 2020.

One snag that I definitely hit was the fact that I have a lot more unfinished work than most years. A majority of the short stories I started working on never got finished. But I can’t even be too upset about that, because I totally loved being able to read back on even the fragmented pieces I ended up with. And while I do think a large part of that (for me) is discipline over inspiration, I’m willing to accept that, sometimes, things will remain unfinished. And it’s okay to stop working on them. 

My overall focus shifted a bit this year, too, which was interesting. I worked more on longer things than most years - started out the year by finishing my first draft of Castle on the Hill, continued making some edits and reworking its outline, did a large part of Beneath Alder Creek’s first draft in November. Right now, I’m working on what I expect to be a novella by the time I’m done with it. It’s a big contrast to the usual, short and snappy short stories that fill most of my previous wrap-up files. But I still definitely write those sometimes, and it’s nice to be able to try stretching and testing my own boundaries. 

This is the part of my wrap-up where I go ham throwing in some of my favorite out-of-context quotes from a variety of different things I’ve worked on. Some of them might be familiar, a lot probably won’t. I’m going to post it beneath the thing so this doesn’t become even more absurdly long!

Some of the ~highlights~ of 2020:

First Thoughts in the Morning: wow the sexual tension between me and the alarm clock right now. Later Reflection: wtf? (a literal note on my notes app that I included because I Cannot remember writing any of this and it made me laugh)

Edriele’s gaze trailed down to the woman’s armor, and her stomach twisted. “Where did you find your attire?” The woman glanced down in surprise, as though she’d forgotten she was wearing it. “It was fitted to me when I gained my ranking. I suppose it draws attention, but after my confrontation at… you mean to ask me whether I’m impersonating a Knight!” “The thought had crossed my mind,” the Sister replied dryly. (novella WIP)

“Do you need to make a stop at your house before we head to the chapel?” Leslie asked as they started off. “What for?” Winnie asked. Leslie looked pointedly at the tip of her galoshes poking out from beneath her dress. With another roll of her eyes, Winnie sighed. “Oh, I suppose so.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

When the third meeting for the Society of the Hidden Immortal Tribe was called for the decade, I knew heads would roll. Gathering the entire society together took months. Everything had to be hush-hush; that was the entire point of spreading ourselves out. Plus, every time a letter arrived in the mail, it was a reminder of the idiot who had decided we needed a name change. Everybody agreed that being deemed the ‘S.H.I.T.’ was humiliating, but nobody could agree on a better title, so it had remained the same for nearly a full century. That was the problem with living forever. You always had more time to make decisions, and, in the end, nothing ever got done. (S.H.I.T.)

When she leaves, I’m not sure I remember a word of what she’s said. But as the stresses of the semester wash back in, and my mind clears like being pulled out of a dream, I suddenly understand how one could crash upon the rocks without realizing they’d ever changed their course. (A Modern Siren)

When Georg arrived later, he found Klaus leaning forwards onto the table, staring vacuously at one of his textbooks. "Studying hard?" he taunted as he approached and dropped into the seat Ingrid had been occupying. "I talked with Ingrid," Klaus explained. Georg's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, but he quickly recovered and looked pointedly at Klaus' posture. "Go that well, then?" "She said I'm arrogant and completely self-involved and that I never take what a girl says into account whenever I'm on a date." With a haunted gleam in his eye, Klaus stared up at his friend. "I think she's right." "Well then it's a good thing somebody pointed it out," Georg offered, and he turned to his work. (Castle on the Hill)

Takemoto Hana rested a hand over her face. She couldn’t see the swirling of darkness over her head, but she heard the whine behind its words. With a wry smile, she asked, ‘Do you not know how to brew tea?’ ‘Of course I know how to brew tea!’ The dark spirit’s voice boomed with a defensive defiance that rang false in the funny little woman’s ears.  (The Funny Little Woman)

“None of us want to be here right now,” Edgar called out to the hall. “None of us want to go back through the handbook and listen to the steps of proper etiquette in immortality. But it seems that, once again, it’s necessary.” “Dammit, Dave,” muttered the man next to me. I said nothing, but I couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. Dave was… how do I describe Dave? To call him an idiot would be underestimating his craftiness. To call him a genius, I’d have to ignore all of his dumb antics. Cruel was too strong. Misguided was too innocent. Mischievous fit best, but even that fell short. Dave was a trickster god, if ever one existed. (S.H.I.T.)

Ridiculous, he told me with a self-conscious laugh of someone who didn't expect to be believed. I smiled, but I didn't join in. (The Little Roads)

“Hey, where did Alina go?” Lorelai asked. Zoe shrugged, but Jaiden cleared his throat. “I think you crossed one of her boundaries, Lo. She specifically asked not to involve her girlfriend in this, and then you did anyways. I know we needed the help, but friendships have to be built on mutual trust, my dude. You should’ve at least let her know your plan before you went behind her back.” The two women stopped and shared a look. “Hey, Jaiden,” Zoe asked. “Do you know the capital of Canada?” He shook his head. “I dunno, Ontario?” “Amazing.” (Mirror, Mirror)

"We had a bet going over whether you'd make it in time," Hans told him. "Did you win or lose?" Josef replied. Hans flipped a 5-Deutsche Mark coin over to Peter, who grinned as he pocketed it. "I'm glad you have so much faith in me." Josef's voice dripped with sarcasm. (Castle on the Hill)

Taliesin reached over his head and grabbed at one of the low-hanging bows, picking leaves from it. “I’m not sure.” Winnie stopped. “What do you mean?” “I mean that I don’t know.” (Beneath Alder Creek)

While she attended to these, the man beside her began to stir. Ella could see him out of the corner of her eye, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position. ‘You may want to lie back down,’ she told him, scrubbing uselessly at her skirt. The man continued to sit up anyways, pressing a hand against the side of his face. ‘Am I killed?’ ‘No, but your savior may be.’ Ella threw her skirt back to the ground. ‘When the Madame sees the state of me, I’ll be spending my future afternoons off making a new dress out of the fabric scraps.’ A frown crossed the man’s face as he considered her words, followed by a scowl of understanding. ‘You work for them. The bourgeoisie.’ (Cinderella)

Ingrid took the seat and began digging through her bag for a book. As she did so, she explained, "There were no other tables open in the building - even in the quiet section upstairs - so I figured that I would just ask the first person I recognized if I could sit with them, and well... here we are." "Don't worry about it," Georg answered when Klaus found himself dumbstruck again. "Just ignore the oaf, he'll leave you alone." Ingrid shot a grin at Georg, and Klaus suddenly wondered whether it was a good idea to have the two of them sit together. (Castle on the Hill)

Up ahead, I could see the glass walls of the bus stop. Usually, I waited for the bus leaning against the metal frame of the stop, leaving the seats inside open for children on their way to school. But the seats were empty now. I still avoided them. (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

Now, I ask that you do not feel too much self-pity. For as easy an error as it may be to mistake a visiting aristocrat’s son for the hired help, the true talent in such a display causing his immediate departure lies within you alone. And to think that the meeting was the work of your father’s tenuous sway over the court! Well, I am sure the time away will do him some good, lest you begin to consider that you’ve ruined his position as well as your prospects. (Dearly Detested,)

Edgar was at the front of the lecture hall, and standing beside him was Dave, smirking as though at some private joke that only he was in on. He was wearing sunglasses, despite the dim lighting of the room, probably because he thought he looked cool. I rolled my eyes. What a tool. (S.H.I.T.)

 The work is different now. Countryside pathways winding through the forest lie forgotten for years without the familiar steps of a traveler. Off beaten paths in the city are never unknown for long, and sometimes streets that were once crossed by thousands a day fall back into obscurity. (The Little Roads)

“How much time will you give me to think on it?” she asked suspiciously, wrapping her arms around herself as though afraid they’d reach out to him if not kept in check. “You have all the time in the world,” the golden man said. “The boy’s, however, runs out with every passing second.” He extended his hand. (Beneath Alder Creek)

You ever met a rich person? Not comfortably wealthy. Not ‘my Uncle Kenny is a lawyer’ rich. Not even ‘widow answering the door to her manor on a hill dressed in fine silk’ rich. No, I mean proper, so-much-money-you-literally-can’t-spend-it-fast-enough rich. They say it isn’t worth Bill Gates’ time to pick up a $100 bill off the floor because he’ll have earned more in the time it takes to grab it. That kind of rich. They seem to be bred for times like these. Their houses are a source of endless entertainment – movie theaters, bowling alleys, personal gyms with a view of the sprawling landscape they overlook like cruel dictators. There’s no need for them to leave during a pandemic; they have access to the equivalent of a luxury resort most families have to save up month to visit. Necessities can be stockpiled in one of the useless extra spaces in the house. I mean, I once had to hide out in a luggage room for a contract. That’s right. An entire room dedicated to holding luggage, bigger than some of the apartments I’ve rented. I thought their residential labyrinths were my greatest source of grief. But social distancing? I’m one bad contract away from retirement. (Bounty Hunter During a Pandemic)

Shaking his head, Detlef pulled a new sheet from his notebook. “Look, I’m just saying, if we can get the satire right, we can be a modern Jonathan Swift.” “I don’t want to be a modern Jonathan Swift, I want to be a student actually passing his debate course!” Peter snapped. (Castle on the Hill)

Moonlight illuminated the German’s fair hair and pale skin, the effect more malevolent apparition than man. (Face on the Other Side of a Dark Window)

Back then, he’d been known for commissioning the exact same portrait of himself every hundred years, hanging them in a hallway in his manor and trying to pass them off as his line of ancestors to any of the locals. It had been a far less skeptical age, and Dave had earned himself a small band of worshipers before Jeff Goldblum himself had been forced to intervene. (S.H.I.T.)

Clara stood before the board of advisors assisting with her thesis. She was one, very intense paper away from her M.A., and she wasn’t about to risk it all by being too proud to ask for help. When she’d made the appointment to meet with them, she expected a series of questions surrounding her topic. Instead, they’d opened by offering her a job. “You want me to steal from the school?” Dr. Pye wrinkled her nose at the suggestion. Next to her, Dr. Pritchard said, “Don’t think of it as theft, dear. It’s merely redistribution.” Clara hadn’t amassed tens of thousands of dollars in debt to be lectured on the definition of robbery. “Either way, it involves me sneaking into the Chemistry department and taking a huge risk to get you some new toys to play with.” (Origins: The Ghost)

“Why is undermining Pryderi so important to Queen Ceridwen that she would risk breaking a timeless alliance just to dismantle them?” Her stomach twisted into a knot, protesting against the answer. “There are few members of the Dusk Court that we know by title.” A shadow passed over Enid’s expression. “The Lord of the Undernell is second only to the Queen.” “Great deeds build the reputation of one in their own court. Cruelty builds it in both.” Taliesin buckled under Winnie’s weight as she suddenly leaned against him. (Beneath Alder Creek)

“Why are all my friends so quick to endanger themselves?” I muttered as I packed up Midas’ crate. Natalie swiveled around from the candy aisle. “So you’re finally willing to admit that we’re friends?” “Save it.” (Flo’s Magical Emporium: The Pandemic)

[itsreigns]

It’s Real

Sheamus x Reader

(Y/N) has been pining over her best friend for a long time. Working on different brand put their relationship through a very rough path. And things only tend to get worse...

Words: 3,649

Requested by @shadow-of-wonder​

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Pining over Sheamus has been a constant in my life ever since I met him. He is my best friend, and honestly, I don’t know where I’d be without him. I actually think he doesn’t even have a clue of how much he matters, how important he is to me. 

I can talk to him about anything, even things that may be difficult or uncomfortable to discuss. But he never judges me. Even if he doesn’t fully understand, he will always try his best to. There is nothing I’m afraid to share with him. Well, except for one thing.

That I am madly in love with him.

He’s the first person I want to share good news and bad news with. When we are on the way to the hotel from work, we talk about how our day went or whatever’s going on in our worlds. We’re able to have rational, thoughtful conversations, but we also have conversations about the most random things and we can just sit comfortably in silence as well.

We were attached to the hip. Always driving around together, going to the gym together… every kind of thing.

Until we were drafted to different brands. 

When the draft happened, I was trying to gather up the courage to ask him out on an actual date, coming clean about how I truly saw him. 

That never got to happen. 

Since then, we’ve grown slightly apart. We still talked but not as much as before. Our calls got shorter, just as our texts, and we barely Facetimed. Long story short, we barely hung out anymore, because our schedules didn’t match. 

It hurt, so bad. I could feel him and our friendship slipping through my fingers. 

I missed him so much. Him as a whole. His touch… his voice… his laugh… the way he made me laugh. How he cared about me. How he always managed to get through me when I wasn’t feeling well. Everything.

So lately, all I had from him was every picture and video he put online. I go back to his Instagram only to see his face, his wide smile, in his photos. And I rewatch those videos over and over, especially when I am in bed, ready to sleep, letting his voice sink in. 

At the beginning, it fulfilled the void and made me happy, but now… it only makes me sadder. It only makes me miss him more… miss us more.

Today, it’s Monday. I have lots of work to do backstage as Raw is airing in a couple of hours, because apparently some big things that only the bosses and creative know about are going down tonight, and... I’m feeling like shit. It’s one of those days. 

Only to make it worse, I keep recalling the times when he’d notice I was feeling down. He’d whisper “Come here, lass.” and pull me into a warm side hug, as he ran his hand through my hair and pressed gentle kisses to my forehead. 

How I wish I had that right now. I’m craving his affection. I need his affection. It’s becoming unbearable to be away from him. But apparently he was doing good away from me, so there’s no way I could ever change this.

I try to shrug off the knot of anxiety that was tightening my chest, so I could do the rest of my chores as well as I possibly could right now.

After almost two hours, I was done. It was hard to do it all, but I somehow managed. Then, I headed to the makeup and hair zone, looking for my friends Alexa and Zelina. Sadly, they were both occupied. Zelina was getting her makeup done, and Alexa was getting her hair braided. 

They quickly asked if I was okay, and I managed to shoot them a fake smile as I nodded affirmatively. I don’t think they bought it, but… I just don’t want to worry them. 

I then decide to go sit in the corner of that zone. There were some storing boxes there that the personnel used to keep heavy material for the stage, so I just hopped on top of one of them. 

Reluctantly, I reach my back pocket and get my phone. I debate whether I should unlock it or not for a couple of minutes, but then I give in. I need to see his face.

With my hands shaking, I enter my Instagram, going straight to the search feature. Obviously, his name was right at the top of my searches. I open his profile and my heart quickly gets caught in my throat.

He had posted another picture. But he wasn’t alone. There’s a girl right by his side. A very stunning girl, tucked right into him for the picture. My stomach starts flipping, and I feel myself starting to get sick, wanting to throw up. 

I didn’t even bother to read any descriptions or check tags. My assumptions have been made and they were clear as water. He was dating her. 

I quickly returned to the main page of his profile and unfollowed him. I just can’t bare the thought of having to see more pictures like that one. Or even cozier… more romantic pictures. I’m almost throwing up again with nervousness just by thinking about it. 

It felt like a slap to my face and I was still numb. I closed the app and set my phone on the box carelessly. I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t ready for it. I didn’t even know he had met someone, let alone be dating. 

This made me realize how clueless I was being. He didn’t need me anymore, that’s why he barely reached out lately. He had someone else to do the things we used to do together. 

I let him forget all about me.

No, I did not let him forget me. He forgot me. I quickly rearranged my thoughts. It was not my fault that he didn’t care about me or our friendship. I was not at fault in this. 

With this, I decided that I was going to let him go and get over this, because I am a strong bitch. Yes, those were the exact words I kept telling myself in my head. I am strong and I will not let him see how much it’s affecting me. 

Not that he’s around to, he’s obviously a little busy isn’t he? The nagging voice was back but was quickly shoved to the back of my mind when I was suddenly joined by Alexa.

She sat down next to me and stared at me for a couple of seconds before actually speaking up. 

“Are you okay?” She asks carefully, trying to read me. “I- Well, we’ve seen Shea-”

“I am fine. And I don’t want to hear or talk about it.” I know I sounded snappy, but I just don’t want to talk about the fresh wound on my heart. I want to push this to the depths of my soul and not remember it or him ever again.

“Okay. I’ll respect that.” She sighs heavily as she rubs my knee soothingly. “But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me right away, okay?” 

I nodded in response but was eyed suspiciously by Alexa. I knew what it meant so I said what she wanted to hear. 

“I promise Lexie.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek before leaving. And there I was, sitting in a corner, alone with my thoughts again. I honestly don’t even know how much time has passed since I saw it.

I could see people passing by and I definitely could hear the fans’ screams and shouts echoing in the arena, and damn, they were loud tonight. But I was way too numb to pay attention to any of it.

Finally, after God knows how long, I snapped out of it. When I stand up, my body feels like ten times its weight. It feels like I’ve been beaten down by someone and I’m just lugging myself around like deadweight.

And I was. Emotionally. But it’s still a beatdown.

I make my way towards my shared locker room to gather my things so I can finally go to my hotel room and just wallow in my thoughts all by myself. 

Picking up my backpack, I head out of the room. I know I was dragging myself around but I just can’t pretend anymore. I just can’t. I am devastated. In two seconds, I realized I lost my best friend and the man I love. My brain is all over the place and I just want to take a shower and then lay down and sleep. Sleep so I can forget all this mess.

I’m halfway through the parking lot when I hear someone calling out my name.

That’s enough to make me stop in my tracks. I know that voice all too well and I am hesitant to turn around. Firstly, because I am afraid that I’m starting to lose my mind and hearing things. Secondly, I’m terrified that he is in fact right behind me. 

“(Y/N).” The voice says again, this time more firm and confident. 

I got chills running down my spine. My whole body is shaking. I definitely didn’t want to do this right now. I don’t want to look in his eyes. Not now. I think everything will come crashing down once I do so. Taking a deep shaky breath, I try to keep walking towards my rental. 

“(Y/N)!” He yells this time, sounding closer to me than before. “Can you please stop for a minute and look at me?” He stops me by grabbing my arm gently.

“No, I can’t.” I choke out, keeping my gaze on the cemented ground. “I just want to leave. So just please, let me go.”

My sight is getting blurry from the tears that have formed in my eyes, as I was practically begging him to let me go. It was pitiful, I know, but I couldn’t stand being this close when I’m nothing to him anymore. 

With this, I pull my arm out of his grasp with one motion and I can feel his stare burning through my back as I walk away. Deep down, I wished he’d stop me again, that he’d hug me and tell me that he missed me, that he wanted to be at least my friend.

But he didn’t. 

He just watched. 

He just watched me walk away. From him. From his life. He didn’t say a goddamn word. And it killed me. 

As soon as I get to the car, the tears start falling down my cheeks. I am in so much pain that it almost feels like actual physical pain. My whole body hurts. My head feels like a balloon. I can’t even breathe straight. 

I cried all the way back to the hotel. Dangerous as I know it is, I drove most of the way on autopilot. I don’t even remember most of it, to be quite honest. 

The woman in the reception looks at me with pity written in her features, probably wondering why my eyes are all red and puffy, why I look like a fucking mess. She was nice about it though. Kathryn, as read on her name tag, offers me a sweet smile every time she has to talk to me and let me know some information regarding the room and the hotel, which I couldn’t focus on, considering my state. But when she gave me the key, I was able to give her a small smile, that she returned delicately. 

I’m finally in my room. Tossing out my clothes carelessly on the floor, I head to the bathroom and turn on the water. I take a good look at myself in the mirror. 

Fuck… I do look like a hot ass mess. Running my hands down my face, a sob runs through my body once again. How could a single person hurt another so badly? How could a human endure this kind of pain?

I get under the hot water, letting it fall down my tense and broken body, wanting it to wash away all the pain and sadness that is running through my veins right now. I just stand there as I get it all out of my system.

It’s about 20 minutes later when I turn the water off. Grabbing a towel, I dry myself lazily before heading to my suitcase and pulling out some panties, an old shirt and some lazy sweatpants to wear.

After putting them on, I collapse on the bed, feeling so drained and exhausted from all the nerves and all the crying.

When I am finally drifting off to sleep, there is a light knock on the door. It was so light that it almost seemed someone was knocking on a door near mine. Suddenly, there’s another knock. This one way more confident. 

It’s probably Lexie. I left without telling her anything, and I didn’t text her. She was probably worried sick, and I feel terrible about it now.

I get up and head to the door, opening it. “Lexie, I am so sorry-” 

My words are cut short when I get face to face with the person who was knocking at my door. I find myself staring at the face I was dreading to look at ever since that happened.

He has this weird look on his eyes, I can’t quite put my finger on it. But I absolutely don’t want to do this right now. I need to sleep on it, get some rest first. So I go and try to close the door before any words are exchanged. 

But he stops me, preventing the door from closing with his arm. He’s much stronger than I am, so he manages to pull the door open and get inside, closing it behind him. I sigh in defeat, retreating back to the bed and sitting down, leaning against the headboard, as he stands in front of my bed, hands tucked in his jeans’ pockets.

“Care to tell me what the fuck is going on, (Y/N)?” He says, an indecipherable tone lacing his voice. I can’t tell if it’s anger, disappointment, hurt, care or everything altogether.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I manage to say when I find my voice, moving my gaze to my hands, currently set in my lap.

“What have I done to you, (Y/N)?” He sounds almost desperate now. 

“I just said I don’t want to talk about it, Sheamus.” It hurts so much even just hearing him say my name. This is too painful. 

“You used to talk to me about anything. What changed?”

“You did.” I say before I can stop myself. He furrows his brows in slight confusion, urging me to keep talking. “Everything did.”

“I know we haven’t talked much lately, but you know I care and think about you every day.” He tries to reason, but I wasn’t having it. 

“No, you don’t.” I mumble, once again staring down at my hands, as a sad chuckle leaves my lips.

“Yes, I do.” He looks down at me in disbelief.

I feel tears in my eyes once more today, and honestly I was done crying. I avert my gaze down again, burying my head in my hands. Feeling the bed shift, I quickly feel Sheamus’ hand making contact with my thigh, caressing me gently. I wanted to slap his hand away, but I was craving his touch so, so much that I couldn’t find it in my heart to do it.

Suddenly, the girl pops up in my mind again. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” I snap, flinching away from him. “She won’t like it. You need to go to her. You need to leave.”

“Who’s she, (Y/N)? I swear you’re not making any sense.” 

I am not looking at him but I can tell by his tone that he’s genuinely confused, which makes me even more distressed. 

“The girl.” I finally look at him. He looks so concerned and confused. “In your photo. I saw it. I think everyone did.” I mumble, once more not being able to maintain eye contact with him. 

“You mean the picture I posted today?” He asks, and I only nod. “Are you serious?” Now, he was smiling and I couldn’t see what was so funny. “Was that why you were like this back at the parking lot, and right now?” He asks carefully, looking at me intently. 

It was now or never. I had to do it.

I nod. 

“That- That was Josie. Don’t you remember? That friend I had from Ireland, that I told you about?”

Suddenly, there’s light in my brain. I do remember him talking about her. They were very good friends when they were kids back in Ireland.

“I- I remember.” I admit, blushing and feeling bad as hell. 

“Didn’t you read the caption?” He asks, tilting his head to the side as he smiles at me. I shake my head no, and he lets out a light chuckle. “You have nothing to worry about. She’s just an old friend, and we were just catching up.” Meanwhile as he spoke, his hand found his way to my thigh once more. 

I was blushing as hell but I was trying to fight everything I was feeling. I didn’t want to read too much into this and get my hopes up. 

He takes a moment to stare at me, as if trying to read me or understand me. But I never said anything. I think anything I would’ve said at that moment would have ruined everything.

“Look, (Y/N)...” He trails off, glancing down at my shaky hands. “I hope I’m not reading too much into this, but… if you… if you feel something, I need you to tell me.”

That’s it. Our friendship is over. This is the part where he obviously tells me that he can’t be my friend if I love him. 

“Why do you need to know that?” I say, very upset. “You don’t need to let me down gently. You don’t like me like that, we can’t be friends. I get it. Now can you go?” I plead with my eyes filled with tears once more as I fully face him. 

“No, I can’t go, (Y/N).”

I’m crying again. Why is he torturing me? Why can’t he just leave me alone? 

“Why are you making this so goddamn difficult, Sheamus? I swear-”

I’m not even finished talking when I feel his lips pressed against mine. I am in complete shock. It takes me a few seconds to process what is happening. He pecks me one time very gently and pulls back. 

Our faces are the closest they’ve ever been. Our gazes locked. Our foreheads resting against each other. His hand cradling my face so delicately. 

“I’m not making this so goddamn difficult. I’m trying to simplify it.” He whispers as his thumb caresses my cheek. 

I launch myself into his arms, hugging him. He hooks his arms around my midsection, pulling me into his lap. I wrap my legs around his waist. I hug him so tight, as if I’d never get the chance to do it again. 

“I missed you so much, (Y/N). You have no idea how much.” He mumbles against my neck. “Being away from you, was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.”

This statement makes my stomach twist up in knots again. He has to go back.

“You have to go back though…” I say sadly.

“I don’t.”

“What?!” I can’t disguise my excitement. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I was moved back to Raw again.” He smiles widely, seeing how happy I was with the news.

“Oh my God! This is amazing! I missed you so much.” I smile, and before I could stop myself, I peck his lips. I pull back abruptly, once I take notice of what I was doing. “I am so sorry. I- You- ” I’m rambling and I just can’t stop myself. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He reassures, hooking a finger under my chin and making me look up at him. “I know I’m not. You know why?” I shake my head no. “Because I love you.” 

There’s silence for awhile. We’re just staring at each other, letting his words sink in. 

“You know I love you too, right?” 

“I was kind of hoping you did.” He laughs lightly. “But I can’t say I wasn’t scared shitless that you didn’t.”

“I do. I always did.” You whisper, pecking his lips again. “I love you, Sheamus.”

That somehow triggers something in him. He’s kissing me now, so intensely, I think I’m passing out soon. He licks my upper lip, begging for entrance. I can’t stop the moan that leaves my mouth, granting him the so wished access. 

His tongue starts massaging and crashing against mine, as the kiss turned into a makeout session. I’ve dreamed about this for so long, it still seemed like a dream. 

The kiss is growing hotter by the second. I, being the teaser I am, start grinding my hips against his, earning a deep growl from him. 

Suddenly, he breaks the kiss. “I need to ask you something.” I nod, waiting for the question. “Will you be my girlfriend?”.

“Of course I want to be your girlfriend.” 

As soon as those words leave my lips, his come crashing on mine again. He pecks my lips a dozen times before we pull back and hug each other.

“Pinch me, so I know this is real.” I laugh stupidly, hiding my face in his neck. 

The bastard bites my collarbone gently and I yelp in surprise.

“See? It’s real.”

Give me some feedback please?

[myfeetkeepdancing]

Regret | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

A/N: Turns out, writing angst is extremely challenging! And no matter how many times you rewrite something. Some things never live up to how you imagine it in the first place. 

This has been in the works since forever. And by forever, I mean early 2018. (Early draft was in Dec ‘17) It incorporates around four separate requests for angst. And never lived up to my expectations. It’s just so difficult to write Tom this way. Enough rambling. I present to you, my first and final angst. 

----------------------------------------------

“I wasn’t expecting you yet.” You remark, making your way to the kitchen.

 “Hmmm…” He hums. “Have you seen (YOUR BEST FRIEND’S NAME) lately?”

 “Last week, I think. Why?”

 “You don’t remember, or you don’t want to tell me?”

 Surprised by his sneer, you turn to him. A grim and dark expression painted on his face. Clenched jaws. Staring at you with a stern expression. Your heart stopped for a second. A lump forming in your throat. You haven’t seen him like this before. “Tom…” Slowly approaching him. “What’s this about?”

 Tom didn’t react, he just sat there. Running his hands through his hair. Averting eye contact. You thought you could see a shimmer in his eye.

 “We p-promised…” A balled fist strikes the marble. Making you jump. “We wouldn’t keep secrets from each other!” Blood-red eyes connect with yours.

 “I don’t, Tom! I don’t! What’s going on…?!”

 "You're lying, (Y/N)... I know you are."

 “I… I don’t get it, Tom!”

 “They found out! The world knows! And you’ve been cheating behind my back like it’s nothing.”

 “Wh-... W-What?" You frantically look around for a hint to this sudden outburst of rage. "I don't want to play this game, Tom. Tell me!"

 "Well then, have a look!" Tom's finger pushed onto the tablet in front of him. His nostrils flaring. Breathing heavily.

 You pick up the tablet from the kitchen counter and quickly swipe through some apps. But honestly, you had no clue what to look for. “What’s there to see? Some news about the Brexit. Nothing more.”

 When you look up from your tablet, you notice Tom isn't happy about the remark. "It's everywhere!" He shouts. Pulling the tablet from your hands. Smashing the screen with such ferocity, you're afraid he might just push right through.

 “See!” Throwing the tablet back down. "They found out about us (Y/N)!" His voice booms through the apartment. "'They followed us everywhere!" You feel frightened at the sudden outburst of anger Tom displayed. "And now they come up with these pictures?!"

 In a calm fashion, you try to get hold of the tablet. Your eyes catch sight of the article on the screen. A humongous picture underneath the title makes your heart skip a beat. "Convince me otherwise, (Y/N)!" Tom keeps yelling. "But for me, it all adds up!"

 That was last week. You had picked Tom up. In high definition, the picture showed you and Tom sharing a passionate kiss. No denying it was you and Tom. The smaller inset pictures followed what happened next. Kisses along your neck. Hands slipping under shirts. Teasing each other as you walked inside. It had been days since you had last seen each other. You longed for each other. What a night that was. Your thoughts drifted off for a moment.

 But the second later, the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. At the beginning of your relationship with Tom. You promised to keep the affection and such on a low for the outside world. No kissing. No holding hands. Going on tours was a rarity. And if you did, you’d sleep in a different hotel. Just to avoid suspicion. All in all, the façade, the lie, held up for months. Tom wasn't ready to out himself yet. And for a good reason so. You weren't either. As long as you could keep doing your work, and lay low for the press. You were perfectly fine with it. Tom was good at handling the press and media too. But keeping up the lie was tiresome for him as well. But it worked out. Your name barely came up in social media. Admittedly you searched your name once in a while. But no connections to Tom in any way. Until today. The title's fat letters didn't twist any of its meaning.

 They had seen you with your best friend. Multiple times. For several days. In various places. It's all true. It happened. But they didn't find the purpose of those meetups. No mention of it anywhere.

 Your name was all over the article. What started as a simple article with suspicions and rumors turned into filthy lies. Mentions of betrayal. Suspicions of double play with your old friend. Tom wasn’t spared. Horrible stories and rumors were thrown into the world without a second thought. Adding upon Tom's angst for this career. His possible failed relationship with you. Tom was afraid his outing would affect his career. And on that fear, the article builds up on about countless possible doom scenarios. Now aware of what you should search, your fear became a reality. Every website had your name, and Tom spilled out. With a feeling of guilt, you gaze up from your tablet. You could see the corners of Tom's eyes turning watery.

 “Tom...” You walk towards him. Grabbing him by his shoulders. “This is not what it looks like. Please listen to me.”

 “Back the fuck off!" Breaking your hold on his shoulder. Raising to his feet. Taking a stand very near to you. "This is exactly what it looks like!”

 "It’s not! And I know what you're going to say, Tom!" Pointing your finger at him. “But there’s nothing true about a relationship with him.”

 “Then tell me! Were you ever going to tell me about him?”

 “I’ve have told you before! But… it’s not what it looks like! I told you we grab a bite! Do some shopping. That’s all!”

 “If that’s all… Then those pictures probably tell half the truth…”

 “They don’t! Don’t you get it!? A hug means nothing…”

 "Then explain to me the hidden checkbook…" That comment burnt a hole into your soul. "What is it for?"

 “I-… “ Your breath stocks in your throat.

 “WHAT IS IT FOR (Y/N)?” He yelled, screaming from the top of his lungs.

 “I-… I… can’t say. I’m sorry. But…”

 “I was hoping you’d say something else.”

 “I would… But I… I can’t…”

 “Then… W-We’re done here…” He snickers. “We’re done…” Collapsing onto the bar stool. You see the first tear rolling down his cheek. Just before he wipes it away with the palm of his hand. “Y-You need to go.”

 “What’s that going to solve?” Trying to push back the tears welling in your eyes. “I’m not going, Tom. Give me some time.”

 “You lied to me…” His voice trembles. “And if I had stayed at the hotel. Nothing of this would have happened!” In a fell sweep, the tablet crashes against the wall opposite of you. Splinters shatter across the floor. “YOU LIED TO ME!”

 “No, Tom… It’s not ending like this. We can work this out.”

 “I just don’t get it! You put everything on the line for what exactly…?”

 “What…? No, I-…”

 "Do you have any idea what Marvel will do to my contract?! You ever thought about that? It's all gone to shit. Gone! ALL OF IT! ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!

 “D-Don’t you act this out on me. Because if you-“

 “Then what (Y/N)?!” The tears were streaming down his face. Screaming right into your face. “You made everything more difficult than it already was. You are the reason it’s all gone to shit! You lied to me. And you were the one to keep secrets from me.”

 “Cut the crap, Tom!” You couldn’t hold the tears back. “One thing led to the other. But we fucked up! We made love! In the open. Like fucking human beings! Just give me time to explain!"  

 “The time is NOW!” Slamming his fist down onto the kitchen counter. “Tell me for fuck sake!”

 “NO! Your wrong, Tom! I did my fair share of holding up our lie up as much as you did. I always booked different hotels. Never showed up at the same event as you. Never went to the beach with you. Never went to movies with you. Never went on a dinner with you. Never went on a holiday with you. Never shared the same plane. All to keep suspicions and rumors low. You see… Our love was caged inside this apartment. I didn’t mind. I came to terms with it. Because I love you...”

 “Stop trying to fix this, (Y/N)…”

 “Zendaya… Who made that lie up? All the sleepovers? Just as a cover-up." From the living room, you hear your ringtone. The news must be spreading like wildfire.

 “And in the end… it doesn’t matter. Does it?” He sneers.

 “If we knew that from the start-“ Throwing your arms up in a defeated manner.

 “-I wouldn’t have gone through with this.” He quips. You could feel your heart shatter in a thousand little pieces. Leaving a gaping hole behind. A vast emptiness. Numbed by the few simple words spat right into your face. Your legs turn to stone. Tom had never hurt you like this before. “From the start, we talked everything through and through. Yet, you lie and hide things from me.”

 As if you dazzled by his words, you take steps backward. Shaking your head in denial. You still hear your ringtone buzzing. With heavy legs, you start stumbling towards the sound. "(Y/N)…" He grips your arm firm as you try to move away, holding you in place, making you even angrier than you already were. “I want you to leave…” You slap his arm away and move onward.

 Through the tears welling in your eyes, you see a call from your parents. Already having missed tens of others from friends and colleagues. You put the phone on silent. Not wanting to speak to anyone for the next couple of hours.

 You just want to get your thoughts in order. Be alone. Process what all had happened. Think long and hard about the future. How everything was going to change. But most of all. Tom. Those words. You keep telling yourself it were mere words in the heat of the moment. But deep down. Your feelings tell you otherwise. Where there’s smoke, there is a fire.

 You pace through the hallway towards the front door. But turn into the bedroom instead. Crawling onto the sheets. Tears streaming down your cheek. Tom's words echo through your head. You didn't want to leave. You needed time alone.

 “You can pack up later.” He stands in the doorway. Heaving heavily, nostrils flaring. His attention gets shifted to Tess running through his legs. As she jumps onto the bed, crawling into your lap.

 “Tess!” Tom calls out. “C’mere! Bad girl.” But Tess doesn’t flinch.

 “At least she made the right choice, Tom. I hope you think about yours as well.” Your voice trembling. “You’re wrong… Y-You need time… Think this through...”

“No! I don't! I-...I swear… If you take Tess from me-…“ Rubbing the tears from his eyes. “You…Y-”

 “I didn’t take her, T-Tom. It’s her choice…”

 “No-no… no…” He mutters with his hands in his hair. Slamming the door shut. You hear loud screams echoing from the living room. Things being shattered and broken. Tess shudders and shakes on your lap at each noise. Silence soon follows after. You can't help it. The tears come back again. As quiet as possible, you sob on the sheets of the bed. Tess licking your fingers. Crawling closer and closer to you.

 Everything around you reminded you of Tom. His shorts on the floor. The smelly socks in the corner. The Spider-Man figurine on the shelf. Even the sheets of the bed smelled of his earthy cologne. But there’s always that one thing that made you smile. The frames hanging opposite the bed. In the year you’ve been together, you had started with just one. You framed your favorite picture you shot from Tom. You remember that moment clearly. That was your first weekend together. With the morning sun peeking through the curtains, you woke up with Tom, arms around you, legs intertwined, and cuddled close to you. Through your sleepy eyes, you saw him smiling. At first, you thought he was awake. Kissing him, good morning. Whispering in his ear. But surprisingly, he was deep asleep. Tom just didn't stop smiling. Not even when he slept. It was the damn cutest thing you ever saw. That was your first picture. And he adored it. True love, he admitted in full confidence. Not soon after, you found a new picture on the wall. Tom had framed one from you. And so the wall of pictures grew over time. It was perfect…

 You open your eyes to a quiet apartment. You must have cried yourself to sleep. As you gaze on your watch. You hear nothing from the apartment. Tom might as well have left the place. Tess still lies close to you. Sleeping as well, you guess. But as soon as you take your phone. She shoots up. You didn't know your phone could display so many notifications. One after the other came in. Hundreds of missed calls.

 Zendaya popped up on your screen. You ponder for a second whether you should take the call. On the one hand, she knew the two of you the best. She played you two on the back of her hand. Always ready with the best advice. On the other, she could be explosive. What if you showed up?

 “H-Hey...” Your voice comes out shakenly.

 "Finally, (Y/N). God, I was worried. You sound like shit."

 “I-…It’s Tom.”

 “Little fucker… I figured something was wrong. Tom’s phone is never off.”  

 “It’s over Z… He-”

 “Nope! You’re wrong. If you-“

 “Zendaya! It’s over! You hear me!”

 “Ooh Noooo, check the internet. You guys are the-” You cut Zendaya off by pressing the call away. You stare at the screen as you feel the tears welling up again. Seconds later, Zendaya was pilling on pictures. One after the other. After the fifteenth picture, curiosity got the best of you. Wiping the tears from your eyes again. You open them up and scroll through. A sense of joy, relief, and happiness started growing. Every tweet and Instagram post was full of praise for your relationship. Pictures surfaced of you and Tom you never knew existed. The posts went on and on. Zendaya called again.

 “I-I… I can’t believe this.” You stutter. “This is-…”

 "Amazing, isn't it? The original article was deleted half an hour later. Not only the internet loves you. The world adores you as a couple.”

 “Yeah… So…Tom! Get your little arse in here!” Zendaya calls out through the phone. You quickly press the call away. You had to tell him. You had to convince him. Trembling legs barely hold your weight and in that terrifying moment. Doubts flood your mind. The realization hits home. And it hits hard. Your legs turn to jelly. With balled fists, you rest against the door. Snickering turns in long sorrowful sobs. The tears stream freely down your face. You can trace them as they fall to the floor. You could not hold it back. Tom left you broken. Shattered. This moment would change everything. You realize it just now. From this moment on, your life could change forever. You had to weigh every word against his. You had hope. You hoped Tom would make this right. Dream, it would turn out alright. Hope that Tom had just spoken his thoughts in an act of madness. That it wasn't the truth. That emotion took the best of him. But fear got the upper hand. Fear of what comes next.

 And behind that door was the truth. The truth that could end it all. A reality you rather not face. Because that would rip the one person, you loved most away from you. A truth where you had to say goodbye and go separate ways. You weren't ready for Tom to go. You couldn't let him go. You didn't want him to go. But deep down. You knew it was his call. No matter how many tears you would shed. There was another side to this story, and you wanted to show him.

 You shift your weight with one hand against the doorframe. With the other, you grab the handle. The moment was there. You could barely stand on your feet. The hairs on the back of your neck rise as the smell of his cologne teased your nostrils. Again. He had to be close by. A cold sensation pulled on your spine. At the same a knot formed in your stomach. A sickening feeling. You pull open the door with a heavy heart.

 Nothing.

 You stumble dazed and wary down the hallway. Following the source of the destruction. Spread out in a cone, a spray of shards littered the floor. Sparkling in the wet puddle of water. The bouquet of flowers lying down amidst, almost like it marked a grave. Your gaze gets drawn to the chair, tumbled aside. And the further you tread along the path of destruction, you end up near the source. On the couch, Tom was lying down, wrapped in a blanket. His head down, face covered, and body hunched together. You feel the tears starting to well up in your eyes again. Fighting desperately to hold them back. To steady your breathing and clear your throat. Your trembling fingers struggle to unlock your phone. “T-T-Tom…" You manage to get out. And avert your gaze to the side. Feeling the tears burning in your socket. Wanting to flow so desperately. With the back of your hand, you quickly wipe your eyes clean.

 “T-There is another side to this story. And… I want you to see it." You stutter. He doesn't respond as you put your phone near him. No reaction. No movement. "It's the truth, T-Tom." You give your phone a small push. Letting it glide along the cushion, falling against him. “If you don’t…” You hesitate for a moment, whether you should throw an arm around him. Comfort him. Brush his cheek. Kiss his forehead, make him feel loved. “-I’m leaving…”

 But you can't… You just stand there. Your mind conflicted. Where you so hurt, you doubt you love him? It's there where you suddenly realize a crossroad in your relationship. You always loved Tom. With all of your heart. But doubt flood your mind. Doubt got the better of you. "I… I'm going to pack if you don't say anything.” You manage to get out. Giving him the benefit of the doubt. You allow him some time. He needs to see it. Somehow you cling to a sparkle of hope. A sign.

 Say something…

 But he doesn't. Your fate is sealed. The end of the line. You turn around, step by step, walking back towards the bedroom. The feet on your legs weigh you down like bricks. Making every step more and more difficult. Your head spins. Feeling light-headed. With one final look onto Tom's hunched figure, you turn the corner and retreat into the bedroom.

 From the bottom drawer, you gather your shirts. Vests. Trousers. All of it. Stuffing it into the case. Your arms shake for a moment. Feeling the tears well up again. In the silence, you hear your phone buzzing in the distance. Minutes go by. Your heart beating against your ribcage. Still clinging to hope. Hoping for something to happen.

 But it didn’t.

 The silence returns.

 You just can't help it. The corner of your eyes water. The tears burning in your socket. With all your rage and anger, you tear the drawer from its railing. Clothes and underwear fly about the floor. You fall to the ground, breaking down in long sobs of endless sorrow. Burrowing your face into a hoodie, in an effort to muffle your cries. It was all so unbelievable.

 You don't care about clothes or sheets. The money or the furniture. You don't want any of it. You want him to know the truth. One way or another, you were going to tell him. The rest of it doesn't matter. You try to gather yourself. Hoist yourself onto your trembling legs. You pace towards the door. Wiping your face clean with one of the shirts laying around.

 As you pull open the door, you feel the shift of pressure and weight against it, coming your way. But before you take notice of what's happening. Tom's arms close around your neck, pushing you back into the room. Burying his face deep into your neck. You lose your footing, taking a few steps back. And eventually, tumble back onto the bed. He pushes the case of the bed. Throwing everything in a mess. Tom atop you. His sweating shaking body resting on top of you. You try to wrestle yourself free for a couple seconds. Trying to push him off you. Not sure of his intentions. But you hear him snickering in your ear. Turning into sobs. And his sobbing turns into long wails, feeling his heaving chest push against you. The tears seeping into your shirt.

 The tension was tangible between the two of you. You didn’t know what to do. For moments you had Tom laying on top of you. Crying out heavily. Your shirt soaking wet from his tears. Not a word came from his lips. Just tears rolling. Right there. And you tried to hold it together. Gather your tears. But seeing Tom like this. You can’t help but cry as well. Feeling broken and hurt.

 Minutes go by. Maybe more, before you feel Tom shifting. He positions his hands on your shoulders, slowly hoisting himself upwards. Tom's eyes were blood red. Bright red lines circled the once lively brown pupils. His eye sockets looked dark and gloomy. His hair a mess. Shirt wet and wrinkled. “T-Tom… Please…” You stammer. “I-I… want you t-...”

 Tom fiercely connects his lips with yours. Kissing you passionately. “Please, don’t go…” He whispers, breaking the kiss. “P-Please…" Tom’s face hovers close to yours. Resting his forehead against yours. You can see the tears welling in his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”  

 You feel both his warm wet hands caress your cheeks. Lifting your head slightly from the cushion. Pressing his lips against yours. “I can't go on without you…” He says. "I don't want you to go..." He breaks loose. "I need you…"

 You put your hands on his sides, pushing him off you.  Putting Tom beside you on the mattress. "Please… (Y/N)!" Tom pleads. You shift to the side of the bed. You lose your gaze in the contents of your case spilled across the floor.

 "Tom…" Glancing back over your shoulder. "They say… Where smoke is, there is fire."

 "No! I didn't mean a single word I said to you earlier. I swear (Y/N)."

 "But, there has to be a splinter of truth in there. Something… Somewhere…" You see him shifting across the bed towards you. “It was never my intention to-" Through the tears welling in your eyes, you reach out for the floor before being pulled back by Tom's arms wrapping around your neck. The knuckles on your hand turn white as you clench as hard as possible on the object. "h-hurt you.” You begin crying again.

 Tom's face is buried deep into your neck again. Whispering in your ear.

"I know… I’m sorry (Y/N)…" Repeated kisses are pressed along your neck. "I’ve seen the response.” He smiles. “It’s overwhelming… It’s everything, I didn’t expect. I thought everything was lost. Because we’ve been living like this for a long time, and… I was afraid of so many things… And I panicked. "

 He moves from the bed, taking place in front of you. "Please… Give me a chance (Y/N). I'll make it right." Cupping your cheek with one hand. With the pads of his thumb, he wipes away the tears trailing down your cheek.

 “Tom…” You snicker. “I want you to know the truth. Because, for a l-…”

 You close your eyes. The tears start welling again. They never seem to dry up. Again, your emotions get the better of you.

 "Look at me, (Y/N)..." Pressing his lips on yours. "It’s alright. You don’t deserv- “

 "I-I’ve been planning things, Tom." You interrupt him, wiping your runny nose clean with the back of your hand. Steadying your breathing. “For us…” Your hands tremble as you bring the small box upwards. "I've been thinking about it for a long... long… time." Tom’s pitiful eyes stare at you. “It was going to be perfect. Orchestrated to the minute. You and me. A memorable moment.” With your thumb, you open the small container. "But I won’t keep it a secret anymore." Holding it in-between you. "This is what I've been hiding from you." The diamond embed in the golden ring twinkled brightly in the light. "This is my secret."

 The rest is up to your imagination. 😉

[thirteen-beaxhes]

Well This is Egg-celent (Tyrus One Shot)

Summary: TJ jokingly left a comment on Cyrus Goodman’s Tweet, and got an unexpected response.

Words: 4248

AO3 LINK IN REBLOG

~~~~~~~~~

“Hope you guys enjoyed this one! I loved the concept and had a blast making it with all my friends. I will see you all again, with another ridiculous to execute idea!” And the screen went black, the boxes of Youtube’s recommended videos popping up.

TJ laughed slightly at the end, using the back of his hoodie sleeve to wipe his nose, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. No stopping them clearly. But he was happy for the short break from his spiralling mind, for the brief respite.

Thank god for Cyrus Goodman’s films and videos, he thought to himself with a sigh, pushing his laptop back onto the bed which he had currently been lying on for two days straight. Amber had been walking in every now and then, desperately trying to get TJ to do something, anything, to try and not have him sink further into his emotions.

That worked about as well as one could imagine.

Drawing a shaky breath, TJ brushed off some of the cookie crumbs on his hoodie, accidentally kicking the empty ice cream carton off the bed. Oh well. He looked around his room to find it resembling the scene of a tornado hitting it. But he just couldn’t get himself to clean it. In that state, the chaos was comforting to him.

He picked up his phone, rubbing his stinging eyes as he opened Instagram. He clicked on the first Story, not even checking the name. He just wanted to let them play, giving some background noise as he just stared blankly at his screen. But, he jerked his head forward as soon as he heard that oh, so familiar voice.

Louis.

TJ gulped, his throat suddenly dry. He held his phone up with both his hands, peering at the screen, looking at the boy who had walked into his life a year ago and had stolen his heart, and who had left nothing but a stain on the carpet when he ran away with its broken pieces 3 days ago. He was at the bowling alley, hugging another boy TJ hadn’t seen before by the shoulders, laughing, his smile radiant. Having the time of his life.

Hoor-fucking-ray.

Tears filled up his eyes, as he immediately exited the stories, slamming his phone down onto the bed. He sniffed, unable to stop  some stray ones from falling, the drops staining his hoodie.

He just hadn’t been good enough for him, that was it, TJ thought to himself, picking up his phone again, very pointedly avoiding Instagram. That’s why he was able to move on so fast. That, and the circumstances of their actual break up.

TJ took a deep breath, opening Twitter to absent-mindedly scroll through his account. He made it a point to stick to his stan account, knowing that it was the only social media where he wasn’t following a certain someone. He let out a small breath every time he came across a meme, just trying to lose himself to the endless scrolling.

A few minutes later, a notification popped up with the tweeting of a bird. TJ narrowed his eyes, scrolling up and letting a small smile come up on his face.

@CyGoodman_ : i’m in an irrationally vengeful and havoc-wreaking mood now

TJ laughed quietly, shaking his head slightly at the tweet. He could just imagine Cyrus standing with a sledgehammer ready to total someone’s car. He focused more on the Cyrus part than the car, but no one needed to know that.

Maybe it was the mood he was in, or maybe TJ was just too tired. But soon enough, he found himself typing out a reply and posting it, before he was able to register what exactly he had just said.

@filmsaregoodman : haha great maybe you can help me egg my idiot ex’s house this weekend then

Why did he say that?! Cyrus was going to think he was so weird!! TJ thought to himself in a panic, taking short breaths as he clicked on the button to delete it, but he stopped himself.

He would never see it, given the flood of replies, he rationalised. Besides, he just saw someone ask him to meet them in an abandoned building with a pickaxe so he definitely didn’t have to worry about being too weird.

TJ just groaned, shutting off his phone and plugging it into his charger as he turned onto his side. He just needed to sleep and focus on trying and actually getting up the next day, he thought as he pulled the sheet over himself.

*

The beeping of his alarm drilled into TJ’s brain, and he groaned as he rolled over onto his back, pinching the bridge of his nose. Who invented the concept of time? TJ just wanted to have a kind word with them.

As he blindly reached for his phone, TJ was also hit with the unimaginable stench of his room, courtesy of him not having showered. He winced at that, making a mental note to go crazy on the deodorant. He opened his phone, clicking on the Twitter app. Nothing extraordinary seemed to have happened, but when TJ looked through his messages, his eyes caught a name and he yelped loudly, falling off his bed in an unceremonious crash.

“TJ!” Amber yelled, running into the room, holding a spatula. She saw TJ breathing heavy on the floor, muttering wildly to himself. She walked up to him and smacked him on the head with the spatula. “What happened?!”

“Why do you have a spatula?!” TJ asked incredulously, rubbing his head.

“Cuz I thought you were being attacked!”

“So a spatula was your best weapon? You were literally in the kitchen! With knives!”

“Well, I’m sorry if I grabbed the first weapon I could find! And we are getting off track!”

“Okay so,” TJ said loudly, before holding up his phone in excitement. “Cyrus Goodman DM’ed me!”

“What?!” Amber yelled excitedly, dropping the spatula on the floor as she jumped next to TJ. “What? How?”

TJ explained the Tweets from the previous night and then held his phone up to her, showing her the message. Amber pulled the phone to her, peering at the message in confusion.

“Hey! This is so weird and may seem stalkerish ahhhh but I saw your reply to my tweet so I wanted to ask: can I have your address?? I swear I won’t send a hitman to your house!” Amber read out, narrowing her eyes in confusion. “Well, that’s strange.”

“I know but, he messaged me!” TJ squealed, but soon he looked at her in confusion. “What do I say? What does he want my address for? Maybe he wants to send something? Oh my god, how do I look?”

Amber laughed, shaking her head as she got up, patting him on the shoulder. “I don’t know bro, you need to figure that out.” With that, she walked out of the room, yelling that she would be back from work late that day.

TJ sighed as Amber left, hiding his head in his hands.

He could draft a message to his favourite creator no problem, right?

Yeah, right.

*

Despite his five hundred mental breakdowns over trying to type a single word to Cyrus Goodman, the next couple days passed relatively normally. Amber finally managed to shove TJ out of bed, forcing him to go to work at the coffee shop where Marty was extremely concerned at his disappearance. Life returned to normal, and if TJ shied away from his phone and social media, and just smiled amicably at guys who tried to hit on him, no one said a word. The messages and tweets slipped out of his mind almost completely.

It was now Friday, and TJ groaned as Amber walked up to him, modelling yet another dress as she prepared for her date that night.

“You sure you’ll be okay at home?” Amber asked, concerned, as she looked at herself in the mirror.

“Yes Amber, I’ll be perfectly fine,” TJ said, laughing slightly.

“Okay,” she said, slightly unsure. But soon, she grabbed her handbag and left, flashing a small smile of nervousness before she left.

After she had gone, TJ slumped into the couch, grabbing the popcorn and ice cream he had abandoned as Amber asked him opinions on all her outfits for her date. He opened Netflix, hugging a pillow as he clicked play on ‘Always be my Maybe’, telling himself he was only watching for Keanu Reeves, not at all because he was lonely and rom-coms were his only shot at romance in his life.

He was more than halfway through the movie, and past the point of being civil as he ate, stuffing popcorn into his mouth as tears rolled down his cheeks. It wasn’t even that the movie was sad, but he was just having one of those movie nights. Suddenly, he heard a knock at the door. Narrowing his eyes, TJ brushed off some popcorn kernels, confused at who could it be. Not Amber, unless her date went bad.

Probably their neighbour about sugar, TJ sighed, as he pushed himself off the couch and rubbed his eyes as he shuffled to the door.

“Sorry mate, no sugar,” TJ said, before looking up and gasping.

Cyrus. Goodman.

What happened next, TJ wasn’t at all proud of. He screamed and slammed the door shut.

What the? How the? Why was Cyrus Goodman at his doorstep? TJ thought wildly, running a hand through his hair. He jerked his head up in shock.

He had just slammed the door on him!

TJ took a deep breath, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he opened the door, with what he could only assume was a sheepish expression on his face.

“Hey,” Cyrus said softly, and TJ could’ve practically melted on the spot. “I thought for a second I had the wrong house or something,” he said, giving a small laugh that could’ve made angels sing. “Are you, Theo?”

“Y-Yeah,” TJ whispered, finally looking up, but immediately looking back down at his feet because oh my god Cyrus Goodman was standing at his doorstep. “Actually, TJ.”

“What?”

“Call me TJ. I just use Theo on Twitter so people don’t know who I am,” TJ said sheepishly, finally forcing himself to look at Cyrus.

He looked amazing, obviously. He was wearing a navy blue sweatshirt and dark jeans. But TJ furrowed his eyebrows when he looked down, noticing the three toilet paper rolls and three egg cartons tucked under Cyrus’ arm.

“Um, what’s that?” TJ asked, pointing at the questionable supplies. Cyrus looked confused, but looked down at his arm and understood.

“Oh! Yeah, I didn’t wanna bother you with the supplies, so I got them myself!” he said happily, pulling TJ out of the house by the hand. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”

“T-Time? For, for what?” TJ stammered out, unable to concentrate on anything other than the fact that he was practically holding Cyrus’ hand. Cyrus tilted his head to one side.

“To teach your ex a lesson,” Cyrus said simply, with a smile that teased I thought that was obvious.

A wave of realisation hit TJ, and he dropped his jaw open. “I was, I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not. Come on, it’ll make you not cry,” Cyrus said softly, reaching up to wipe away a tear that was on TJ’s cheek with his thumb. His hand lingered by TJ’s face, and god, if that was what it felt like to have your breath taken away, TJ never wanted to breath ever again.

Before he knew it, TJ was slipping on shoes and grabbing the keys out of the cat bowl he and Amber had stolen from their parents’ house when they moved out, shutting the door behind him as he followed Cyrus out the door.

Now that they were outside, walking on the streets, TJ was confronted by the fact that this was real. There he was, walking down the street with someone whose work he had admired for so long, who he may or may not think was breathtaking to look at, and they were walking with him to John’s house, to egg and TP it. Even dreams couldn’t come up with something this wild. But it was real, the chill in the night air, his visible breath in the air, everything was real.

“Let me hold something,” TJ said, trying to grab some of the things from Cyrus, but he moved away.

“No no, let me,” he said with a smile. “Least I could do.”

“Well, you’re doing more than you had to already. It’s all I could do.”

“Still. I wanna do this.”

TJ smiled, shaking his head slightly. He looked ahead, catching glimpses of Cyrus in his peripheral vision every now and then. He could also feel Cyrus looking at him every so often, and that made TJ’s cheeks flush, but if anyone noticed, he’d blame it on the cold.

Finally, after some minutes of silence and of Cyrus looking at him, TJ caved and turned to Cyrus. “What? Did I leave ice cream on my face?” he asked nervously, reaching up to wipe whatever it was away.

“No no,” Cyrus said, raising his eyebrows in amusement. “It’s just, I can’t imagine someone being stupid enough to let someone like you go.”

That comment was enough to turn TJ into a blushing mess, his heart doing the foxtrot in his chest. “I mean, I’m not that great.”

“That’s insane! We’ve exchanged like, 5 sentences, and I know that if you were with me, I’d never let you go.”

TJ choked, disguising it as a cough. What what what, did he say if TJ were with him. Hold the phone, he was dying. Tell Amber that he died as he lived, gay.

Cyrus just laughed quietly, bumping his shoulder with TJ’s. “Sorry, too much?”

“No no! Not at all,” TJ exclaimed, turning to look at him. “I just, no one’s said that before.”

“I can’t believe that,” Cyrus said, and TJ had to keep his eyes trained to the ground, knowing that hiss face was burning up.

They walked down the street in silence for some more time, before Cyrus looked at TJ.

“If you don’t mind telling me, why do you want to egg your ex’s house?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

TJ sighed, looking up at the sky, few stars visible in the sky. Fitting. “We’d been dating for 8 months, but I always felt like I was giving more than he ever was. And then I found out two weeks ago, that he was cheating on me,” he said quietly.

“That’s horrible TJ,” Cyrus said quietly. TJ just scoffed.

“Worst part, I knew that’s the kind of guy he was. And yet, I thought I could be the exception.”

“It’s not your fault,” Cyrus said comfortingly, placing a hand on TJ’s shoulder.

TJ just smiled appreciatively. He looked to his left and stopped, taking a deep breath.

“What is it?” Cyrus asked, stopping beside him.

‘We’re here,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Well then,” Cyrus said, with a mischievous smile as he set down the cartons and pulled out two eggs. He handed one to TJ and kept one with himself. “On the count of three then.”

TJ smiled nervously up at Cyrus. “One.”

“Two,” Cyrus said with a smile, coming closer to TJ.

And with twin smiles, they looked at each other. “Three.”

*

“That was insane,” TJ said with a smile, running a hand through his hair, but realising too late that there was egg yolk on his fingers. “Ugh!”

Cyrus was laughing, doubled over. TJ looked over, unamused.

“Haha. Thanks Goodman.”

“Hey,” Cyrus said, holding his hands up. “Did it help or not?”

“Actually,” TJ said, looking away thoughtfully. “It did.”

“See? Vengeance tastes sweet.”

“More like tastes like an impending salmonella infestation.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes, shoving TJ in the shoulder. But then, his expression grew softer. “You sure you’re okay?”

And when TJ thought about it, he was surprised to find himself nodding. Cyrus let out a sigh of relief, looking at his watch.

“Well, 2 am is no time to go home but I’ll try my luck,” he said with a tired smile. “I had fun, TJ.” And with that, Cyrus began walking away, but TJ called out to him.

“Hey!” he said, running up slightly to him. “If you want, you can stay over at my place.”

Cyrus raised his eyebrows slightly, and TJ tried to explain himself nervously. “Well, it’s late. And it’s the least I could do after you came all this way.”

“I literally live across town, TJ,” Cyrus said with a giggle. “But okay, I’ll take you up on that offer. Thanks.”

With that, the two of them began walking back to TJ’s house, an unexpected tension in the air. But it wasn’t unwelcome. TJ and Cyrus constantly snuck glances at each other, both looking away as soon as the other caught them, cheeks pink. And it was pure coincidence if they were walking close enough to let their fingers brush against each other with every step.

They crept into the house quietly, TJ putting a finger to his lips.

“My sister is probably back from her date,” he whispered, and Cyrus nodded, and they made their way to TJ’s room, avoiding as many floorboard creaks as they could. When they got to the room, TJ wanted to throttle himself at the mess.

“I’m, I’m sorry about everything,” TJ muttered, trying to clear space. But Cyrus was deep in thought, looking around the room in awe at the posters and pictures, running his fingers along the spines of the books on TJ’s shelf.

“You like reading?” Cyrus asked softly, turning around as he took off his shoes.

TJ nodded. “Mostly history. You?”

“Space and reptiles,” he replied, sitting down beside TJ on the bed.

“Wow. Just two nerds sitting here together, huh?”

“Seems like it.”

There was a silence after that, both unsure of what to say. The soft orange light of the lamp in TJ’s room was making Cyrus’ face look warm and even more gorgeous than normal. TJ let his gaze flick down to Cyrus’ lips, but he pulled his eyes away, reminding himself that he did not need a relationship just then. Cyrus took a deep breath, hiding what looked like disappointment behind a soft smile.

“So, uh, I’ll take the floor?” TJ said, picking up his pillow. But Cyrus shook his head.

“No, I’ll take the floor, you sleep in your bed.”

“It’s fine, Cyrus.”

“No it’s not,” Cyrus said, grabbing TJ’s hand. “Okay, let’s just share the bed.”

TJ glanced at his bed, worried about size. But the atmosphere in the room was making his sleepy, so he just nodded his head, making the bed for the two of them.

Before they got into bed, TJ grabbed Cyrus’ elbow and pulled him to himself, wrapping him in a hug. Cyrus was surprised, but soon slipped his arms around TJ’s waist.

“Thank you for this,” TJ whispered into Cyrus’ ear, before pulling away and climbing into bed, Cyrus following him as his back faced TJ’s.

And when Amber walked into the room the next morning to find her brother sleepily cuddling the famous person who had messaged her brother, she almost screamed in shock, horror and joy. But then, she just smiled, and went to make breakfast.

*

TJ should have known. Some things were just too good to last. Even things like Cyrus Goodman.

Why had he been stupid enough to let himself fall again? Why couldn’t he learn his lesson?

He’d convinced himself Cyrus was different that Cyrus had seen who he was, and he loved him. He had convinced himself that they were meant to meet for a reason, because he was the one.

Well, another thing TJ Kippen was wrong about.

“Teej, please open the door,” Amber pleaded. “I’m worried about you.”

TJ sighed, pausing his loud rock music to open to door to Amber. Amber gasped when she saw his bedraggled appearance, immediately pulling him in for a hug. Even though he had spent the last 4 hours crying, that hug alone made TJ collapse into sobs, sinking to the floor as he pulled Amber down with him.

“I really thought, Amber,” TJ gasped, but Amber shushed his, placing her hand on the back of his head.

“You’ll be okay, I got you,” she whispered back to him, as she held onto TJ. After they pulled away, when TJ’s tears were just a silent stream, she narrowed her eyes. “What did he say?”

TJ just shook his head. “He just said, ‘This isn’t gonna work out. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. I can’t explain.’ Bullshit.”

“That’s a lame excuse,” Amber huffed, pushing a strand of TJ’s hair back.

“I don’t know what to do Amber,” TJ said in a broken voice. “I thought we could make it. But, I shouldn’t trust anyone.”

“I’m so sorry Teej,” Amber said, leaning her head against TJ’s. “Do you want me to make you anything? I can get ice cream from Costco.”

“No,” TJ said, shaking his head and pushing himself off the floor. “I, I need to do something. But I need your help.”

“Okay?” Amber asked, confused.

“Could you get a carton of eggs for me?”

*

“Why are we doing this?” Amber said, hoding the carton of eggs as she and TJ sat in the cab to Cyrus’ apartment. “What, are we gonna egg his front door? Cuz I’m gonna do more than that.”

TJ shook his head, a small smile on his face as he got out of the cab. He took a deep breath and walked into the building, walking up the stairs to Cyrus’ apartment. The lights seemed to be out from downstairs, so he was probably out or asleep.

“Give me the eggs,” TJ said, and Amber handed him the carton, which he set down at the doorstep.

“Wait, what? We aren’t throwing them?” Amber whined, but TJ just looked up at her.

“Can you, give me a minute?” he asked quietly, and Amber nodded, walking down the stairs.

After she was gone, TJ pulled out a carefully penned note from his coat and placed it on the carton, knocking loudly on the door before walking away, squeezing his eyes shut as he left the building.

I couldn’t even find the energy to throw these at you. Because you were the last person I expected I’d need to do that to.

*

TJ called into work sick the next day, a fact Marty didn’t question much. He didn’t need to ask TJ to see that he was going through utter shit at the time. So, some time alone was what he needed. Even though Amber wasn’t completely ready to leave him alone, but TJ pushed her to accept the date her girlfriend had asked her on.

“I’ll be okay, Amber,” he had said, kissing her on the forehead. “Now go get your girl.”

The mood was perfect too, the rain beginning to pour in torrents. TJ curled up in his blanket, watching Love Island on television. At least some people’s love lives were worse than his. TJ was heavily immersed in the drama between the house members, when suddenly, he heard someone knocking on the door.

In this downpour? TJ thought to himself as he walked to the door and opened it. But when he saw who it was, he froze.

“Cyrus, are you crazy?! What are you doing here?” TJ asked in shock, taking in his appearance.

“I, I had to see you,” Cyrus said between pants, taking in deep breaths.

“Did you run here?”

Nodding, Cyrus took a step forward, but stayed outside. “TJ. I’m so, so sorry. I thought I had to protect you, but I, I made a mistake.”

“Don’t,” TJ cut him off, his voice breaking. “Don’t’ do that, Cyrus. I’m trying to move on.”

“Please, TJ,” Cyrus pleaded, grabbing onto TJ’s elbow. “Please just hear me out.”

TJ just sighed, and looked up at Cyrus, nodding.

“I love you, TJ. So, so much. And being with you has been the best thing to happen to me. And when we decided to go public, I was so happy that I could share my happiness with everyone,” Cyrus said with a sad smile. “But, I started seeing messages and posts with people hating on you, and insulting you, and I know you said it didn’t bother you, but I know it did. I could see it in your eyes. I thought if we weren’t together, it would stop, and you’d be okay.”

“Cyrus,” TJ said softly, squeezing his hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. Sure, it’ll take some getting used to, but in the end, I just wanted to be with you.”

“I just wanna be with you too,” Cyrus said softly, reaching up to brush TJ’s cheek with his thumb.

TJ smiled softly, before leaning in to capture Cyrus’ lips in his, tasting the rain without any care. Cyrus wrapped his arms around TJ’s waist as TJ cupped his cheeks. After they pulled away, TJ leaned his forehead against Cyrus’.

“I love you, TJ.”

“I love you too, Cyrus. And I hope you never give me a reason to egg your house.”

 ~~~~~~~~

This is fluff cuz i got peer pressure by @heart-eyes-kippen and @criminalambis​

[holidaywishes]

I Just Wanted You

Summary: You and Jamie used to be High School sweethearts before he got drafted. Now it’s nearly 10 years later when you finally see him again and you can’t believe you ever let him go

Warnings: none? more angst than I intended, a tiny little bit of fluff.

Author’s Note: I literally have no idea where this came from. I was going to write the next part in my Gally series or my Freddie series but then... Jamie Benn happened.

masterlist

  The last time you saw Jamie, your heart broke. He had just been drafted to Dallas and asked you to go with him but you said no. The idea of giving up any possibility of your own future just to follow him around as he became something amazing seemed like a selfish request on his part. No matter how much you loved him. So you said no and he said you were over; and your heart broke into a million pieces. Naturally, when your best friend told you that she was getting married to a man who worked in Dallas, you knew the Bachelorette Party was going to be there.

   “Think about it!” Claire exclaimed, “if we have it there, then we can literally just crash at Sam’s place -- which will soon be my place too. AND WE WON’T HAVE TO PAY FOR ANYTHING!”

  “You wouldn’t have to pay for anything anyway...” you argued

  “(Y/N),” she narrowed her eyes at you, “you’re not gonna see him. It’s not like we’re going to the game. Just forget Jamie Benn exists for a bit so we can have some fun at my Bachelorette Party.” Claire had been there for you after your breakup with Jamie. For days, she cuddled next to you in matching Onesie’s watching Meg Ryan Rom Com movies from the 80s and eventually your life went back to normal, so you knew that she wasn’t going to let you get hurt. Not again.

  “Fine,” you finally caved, “we’ll go to Dallas.” Claire jumped up and down with glee before running to grab her phone to send out a mass text.

  “Pack your bags, ladies. This bitch is getting married and her maid of honour is putting on a kick ass Bachelorette Party in Dallas. Three days of alcohol and no rules before I give myself to the only man I’ve ever truly loved. Let’s give Dallas a party like they’ve never seen!” All you could do was giggle and roll your eyes when you read the text as you sat across from your best friend. It was going to be three days of alcohol for sure but there would most definitely be rules.

  Especially with Claire’s group of Sorority Sisters she’d collected over the years.

  The flight from Vancouver to Dallas was a rocky one so touching down felt like you’d all just escaped Death. One of Claire’s friends grabbed a cab as soon as the group got out of the airport and everyone piled in to head to Sam’s place; turning to you for “the plan.”

  “Hmm, okay. Here’s what I’ve got going in my brain...” you started, “drop our stuff at Sam’s, go have a bite to eat -- steak, chili, pizza, whatever, -- come back, get dressed and head out. But understand me ladies, there are rules. There will be one stop at one strip club. No more and we will not be ordering a stripper to the house so count your losses if you don’t get the kind of show you want at the club. No drugs and no drinks from strangers. You meet a guy at the club and you want to go off with him? That’s up to you but make sure your phone battery is full so that if you run into trouble one of us can get you help. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” the girls chanted mockingly and you laughed

  “Alright then..” When it was finally time for the night to begin, the apartment was filled with loud, giddy screams and you weren’t sure what you signed up for; forcing you to take a few too many shots of Tequila before even ordering an Über.

  “Car is here girls, let’s do this” you yelled to the group of girls, frantically checking their makeup in the hall mirror, earning a mocking eye roll from you.

  “WAIT WAIT!” Claire shouted, “we need a selfie first!” The group huddled around Claire and took a few photos -- funny faces, sexy poses, a kiss on the brides cheek and one normal one that Claire chose as her favourite to post.

  @clairebear tagged you in a photo: “My girls and I are ready to show Dallas the true meaning of Party. #werecominforya #hideyoboys #hideyohusbands #Dallas2019 #ifyouresingleletsmingle #ClairesBacheloretteParty2019″

  @(Y/I/H): Counting down until this lady can no longer post hashtags about different cities hiding their men from her. #Clairesgettingmarried #ClairesBacheloretteParty2019.

  It wasn’t long before you’d hit up almost every bar in Downtown Dallas and you could see some of the girls were in desperate need of water so you collected each of them and starting walking down Main Street to find some kind of fast food place to eat when you heard one of the girls scream from the back of the group.

  “What’s wrong!?” you and Claire said at once.

  “Holy fuck! Claire, check your Insta...” Claire hopped on her phone, navigating to the app and immediately looked at you when she saw the comment. You knew it had to be from him, it was the only reason she’d look at you like that.

  “Jamie motherfucking Benn commenting on your post. On a picture of us! Say something back!!!” You and Claire were still deadlocked trying to decide what to do

  “Let’s just step in here and grab some food. We’ll... figure out a reply later” you answered and the girls looked at you dumbfounded. While they ordered, you grabbed a booth and opened your phone to look at the picture, scanning through the comments to find Jamie’s

  @jamiebenn14: you think you can party harder than Dallas? I doubt it but I’m willing to make a bet with you.

  You stared at his comment for too long before you finally noticed that you had a message and your thumb hovered over the little paper plane in the corner of your screen; trying to garner the courage to open it.

  @jamiebenn14 would like to send you a message: long time, no see. You look good.

  That fucker. After ten years, he thinks he can just slide into your DM’s and all will be forgotten. Telling you you look good as if you’d be that gullible, that starstruck, that desperate to cave into him like you always did. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what happened.

  @(Y/I/H): What’s the bet Benn?

  It was all you could muster. You had heard he was in a relationship and the last thing you needed was to have some chick you’d never met before show up and punch you in the face. You were trying your best not to do anything that might come across as flirtatious or presumptuous but he was your ex...

  @jamiebenn14: Meet me and Ty at the Nines. We’ll show you that Dallas is a better place to party than Kelowna.

  @(Y/I/H): I don’t think so. That wasn’t really the point -- we weren’t implying that Kelowna is a better place to party but that we’re better at partying than anyone in Dallas...

  @jamiebenn14: I don’t think so. You haven’t met these people. You’re out of your league

  @(Y/I/H): I guess I’ve always been out of my league...

  The conversation more or less ended there and you had to pull Claire aside to tell her what was going on, what he was saying, when Shandra overheard and took over the situation.

  “Hell yeah we’ll go to the Nines to meet Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin!”

  “Shandra shut up!” Claire yelled and you held your face in embarrassment

  “What?! How the hell do you even know them?”

  “We went to High School with Jamie, we’ve never met Tyler before --”

  “And we’re not going to...” you chimed in before Shandra could add in any quips to Claire’s statement.

  “Fine whatever.” You knew that Shandra was going over to the rest of the group and telling them everything, forcing you and Claire to take a deep breath before heading back to the table.

  “Listen to me,” Claire said quickly before the two of you walked back to the table, “you can call it a night. The girls are going to be really aggressive about this and I’m too drunk to say ‘no’ to them right now. So you can call it a night and we’ll pick it up tomorrow. That way you don’t have to see Jamie. And if you block him you won’t have to hear from him...”

  “I’m not bailing on your Bachelorette Party Claire,” you replied, “I’ll survive. I’ll be fine. I’m sure he only looks good on T.V....”

  You were obviously wrong. The second your eyes locked on him at the club, you could feel yourself drooling. He had most definitely gotten better with age and you were the girl who let him go. What an idiot you were.

  “(Y/N), Claire, there you are!” Jamie greeted, pulling Tyler and who you assumed was his girlfriend over, “I was starting to think you weren’t going to take me up on the bet.” You smiled awkwardly but still couldn’t find the words. Why was this so god damn hard?

  “Nice to meet you,” Claire stuck her hand out to Tyler, “I’m Claire.”

  “Tyler and this is Kate” he replied and she gave a small, unenthusiastic wave

  “This is (Y/N)” you were suddenly snapped away from Jamie to greet his teammate.

  “Hi, nice to meet you..”

  “So, you’re the One That Got Away huh?” Tyler said and Jamie gave him a quick nudge, making you huff slightly. You weren’t The One That Got Away, not really, more like the One Who Had Too Much Pride. Your mind was racing. Part of you wanted to stay and get to know Jamie again, another part of you knew it was wrong and that it would end in flames but an even bigger part of you was pissed that he wasn’t describing the situation properly.

  “I’m sorry.. I ca- I have to go..” you stumbled over your words, “I’ll see you at the house Claire. Stay safe please...”

  “Wait (Y/N)” you heard Jamie call after you but you just continued running out of the crowded room. When you finally got out, you noticed that your phone had died and you had to settle for hailing a cab.

  “You’ll never catch a cab” his voice boomed from behind you, sending shivers down your spine

  “You don’t know that”

  “It’s late. I’ve lived here long enough to know when they stop accepting fares.” You looked back at him quickly, and quite pathetically, before getting angry and defensive

  “Fine, I’ll walk then.”

  “You don’t know where you’re going!”

  “I’ll manage”

  “You’ll end up in a ditch”

  “Don’t think so”

  “(Y/N) stop, let me call you an Über or drive you home or something, please..” You stopped walking, your back toward him, and contemplated your options

  “Fine. Order me an Über but then go back inside. I don’t wanna talk to you...” He entered in the address you gave him and tried to get you to talk to him but you refused

  “I don’t get it. What did I do? I barely said anything in there. I couldn’t have offended you that quickly?”

  “Just stop Jamie. Stop talking. It’s not about what happened in there, that doesn’t matter. It’s about what you’re telling people happened back then...”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The One That Got Away?”

  “Yeah..?”

  “Jamie.. you broke up with me because I wouldn’t move here with you”

  “That’s not exactly what happened”

  “No, you’re right. You asked me to skip my graduation, leave my family and my friends to move to a new city with no job prospects or qualifications to be with you. Because your life was more important than mine”

  “I never said my life was more important. I thought you would want to experience this life with me... And I didn’t think we’d survive long distance”

  “You never even tried to give it a chance...”

  “I.. I ju--”

  “Exactly. Look I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came out tonight. I’m sorry I responded to your DM. I’m sorry for everything but you can go back inside. I’ll be fine. Thanks...”

  “Why couldn’t you have at least stayed in touch with me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “After we broke up? We were friends first before anything and that just went out the window..”

  “You broke my fucking heart!! The last thing I wanted was to keep you in my life without actually having you in my life”

  “Like my heart didn’t break?”

  “You don’t get to play the victim here, Benn, you ended it. I didn’t. I wanted it to work. I would’ve done FaceTime or Skype or emails or texts or anything but you ended it so that was that. You can’t say that your heart broke because you didn’t even fucking try!”

  “(Y/N)”

  “And you moved on rather quickly anyway so...”

  “Not really..”

  “This was a mistake... Have a nice life Jamie. I’ll see you never.” You turned your back to him and waited to hear his footsteps head back inside but they neither dissipated or got closer to you. He never moved.

  “I loved you. Ending it-- us was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being cold about it seemed like the easiest way to handle it but, ask Jordie, I cried after you told me you wouldn’t stay with me. That you didn’t want to be with me...” You turned around to see a small crowd forming but all you could focus on was Jamie’s sad expression

  “You didn’t give me an option Jamie. I was starting my own life and you were too and I couldn’t take that away from you. I didn’t think you’d take it away from me either but there you were, telling me to drop everything for you. And I would’ve, because I loved you so much, but I didn’t want to resent you”

  “You would’ve resented me?”

  “Maybe... I don’t know. All I know is that it really sucked and it really hurt me that that’s how we were ending.” His gaze dropped to the street and you watched as the headlights from your Über shone across the building, showcasing a small tear on Jamie’s cheek when he looked up at you again

  “I’m sorry...” it suddenly hit you that he said you didn’t want to be with him and your mind raced to find something to say as he started walking away

  “I just wanted you” he stopped dead in his tracks as your words reached him, turning around when the silence was too much to handle, “I would’ve done anything for you, for us, because I just wanted you Jamie. Which is why it hurt so much when we couldn’t find a way to make it work.” He just kind of stared at you and you couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to continue or if he was trying to come up with something to say himself. You had laid it all out for him again and you couldn’t wait anymore so, you turned to the car waiting for you; opening the door with that same broken heart you had nearly 10 years ago. You heard a quick shuffle of feet and suddenly Jamie’s hand was on your waist and you turned around to meet his stare; he didn’t say anything, only leaned in slowly to capture your lips in a kiss that felt like it had been built up in his system for ages, only stopping when the driver honked his horn.

  “I don’t have time for this. Either get in or shut the door!” With a bright smile, Jamie pulled you away from the car and brought you in for another kiss as he slammed the car door.

[i-got-these-words]

Okay, so this isn’t the first time that Tumblr has eaten up a post of mine and I’m seriously considering taking my business elsewhere (especially since the Tumblr Management Community seem more baffled than me about this).

Rant over.

Thank you, anon. This was fun to draft.

And, guys, lemme know your thoughts - either about Tumblr’s disappearing posts issue or the ZhanYi fic below ;)

A/N: There is a brief glossary of terms at the end of this post.

~~~

The vertiginous passage of spectral city lights, vivid and voracious. The near-silent hum of a hybrid vehicle as it navigated through three am traffic. The taste of victory at the back of his mouth like the inside of a sports cup at halftime.

Brooding and unblinking, his cell phone was a polished brick in his palm. Holding its breath for a text that was never going to come. But holding anyway. Hoping.

Zheng Xi repressed a sigh, feeling spent and sore. Nailing his first Stanley Cup did nothing to cushion his come-down from a post-win high – a come-down that was more a crash-down, and a high that made him question the quality of what he was shooting up with. Except, if he was being honest with himself, Zheng Xi knew it wasn’t about quality; there was nothing more raw or unadulterated than being the youngest NHL team in the division and defying all odds to reign as this season’s champions.

But raw did not compare to piquant purity, and unadulterated had nothing on divine defilement; the kind of drug that had Zheng Xi tripping at first sight, and intoxicated at first taste.

“Third building on the left,” he intoned as the Prius steered towards a bank of high-rise apartment complexes.

The Uber driver caught Zheng Xi’s gaze in the review mirror. A question in his close-set eyes. A trace of recognition. They’d barely exchanged two words during the ninety-minute drive, plenty of time and opportunity for the driver to study his sullen profile, the wide-set of his shoulders, the square of his jaw – unmistakeable even through the carbon shell of a wire-caged helmet.

As the car slowed to a stop, Zheng Xi snagged a crisp fifty out of his wallet.

“Congratulations on the Championship,” the driver hedged, hesitant. Likely because the dejected customer in the back seat was nothing like the fierce D-man in the rink, or the fervent player at the postgame conference a few hours ago. “My son is a huge fan.”

Quelling the urge to wince at being recognised, Zheng Xi mumbled a thanks. Realised what a dick he was being. Slipped another fifty out of his wallet. “Do you have a pen?”

With a nod and a fumbled affirmative, the driver pulled a ballpoint out of the breast pocket of his lined shirt. Zheng Xi uncapped the pen and scrawled the Chinese characters that corresponded to his name onto one of the bills.

Handing the tip and the autographed fifty-dollar note to the other man, Zheng Xi thrust the car door open. “Have a good one.”

“Thanks, man,” the driver beamed. “And, uh,” – a pointed glance at the tall building to their left – “good luck with everything.”

Zheng Xi flinched. If only. But all the luck in the world wasn’t going to smooth this over.

He let the door slam shut behind him, teetering slightly because, after a game, his feet were more accustomed to balancing on a set of blades than swaying in an unfamiliar pair of Futurecraft 4Ds. As the Prius rolled away, he swiped a thumb across his phone screen. Hit the last number he’d dialled.

“This phone is currently switched off. Please try –” He hung up, swallowing jagged-edged knots of despair and disappointment down his dry throat.

Strides sluggish, he made his way towards the black glass of the front door, his reflection looming and growing larger with each step he took, his sense of self-worth growing smaller. He let his fingers hover over the metallochromic buttons of the intercom mounted on the wall, debating for a minute. And then thumbed through his phone for the app with the electronic passkey – the one that was issued to him back when the flat on the fifteenth floor was like a second home to him, when the man who lived in it was more than just home.

Zheng Xi flashed his phone over the digital reader and a musical little ding announced an approval. As he pushed through the unlocked door, his cell jolted in his grip with an incoming call. Zheng Xi’s throat constricted and cut off a breath mid-exhalation.

But it wasn’t him.

The name illuminating his screen reminded him of the late hour. Of how it was way past curfew. Of how, right now, he should’ve been tucked in a hotel bed, trying and failing to get some shuteye, because tomorrow was another long bus ride back to the capital, a champions’ ceremony, a team interview, a fans’ meet. All the things that had once meant something. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember what.

Slinking past the elevator, he pocketed his phone – Coach could chew him out later – and took the stairs two-by-two, the drumbeat of his heart dissonant and deafening. When he finally reached that familiar door on the fifteenth floor, he was a little winded, not from exertion or exhaustion, but expectation. The expectation that this was all going to go to shit.

But I gotta know for sure.

Zheng Xi took a deep, steadying breath before gently rapping his knuckles against the smooth wood. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d knocked like a guest. A stranger. Maybe at the very beginning, once or twice, before he was spending more time here than at his own bachelor pad in the next city over.  

A long moment of silence followed his knock. And, so, he rapped again, harder this time. More urgent. Desperate.

A muffled thump indicated movement in the apartment and Zheng Xi stepped back, panicking because the speech he’d prepared on the journey here now sounded ponderous and pathetic. He wet his lips as the door handle rattled slightly. And cursed the way his own hands rattled even more.

The door opened just enough for the man on the other side to peek through the gap.

“Zheng Xi?” Jian Yi’s voice was a seraphic solo made sweeter by the sleep underscoring his cadence. “What… What are you doing here?”

What was he doing there?

“Hey,” Zheng Xi croaked. Cleared his throat. Crammed his hands into the pockets of his flight jacket. “You weren’t at the press conference.”

A puzzled purse of strawberry-pink lips. “I don’t… I cover baseball now.”

Yeah. Don’t I fucking know it.

A soft squeak as the door swung wide open. A sibilant shuffle as slim, bare feet brushed a little closer. An audible swallow as Zheng Xi took in the sight before him.

Jian Yi in nothing but a creased, oversized nightshirt, his compact toes painted a frosty-periwinkle, his mussed hair sleep-curled and longer than had it been when Zheng Xi last ran his fingers through it six months ago.

“Why are you here, Zheng Xi?” The little wrinkle between fair brows made Zheng Xi want to reach out and smooth it down with his fingers. With his mouth.

I fucked up.

“You know I’m not… good with words,” Zheng Xi began, the weight in his chest growing heavier with every passing second.

Jian Yi tilted his head, perplexed but patient.

“Maybe we could talk inside?” Zheng Xi asked, daring to hope.

Stiffening, Jian Yi looked away. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Zheng Xi nodded like he understood, but all he really understood was how big a mistake this was. He knew it then; Jian Yi was going to say no. And the rejection was going to kill him.

“It was all for nothing,” he confessed, because, at this point, he didn’t have much left to lose. “Week after week of drills til we were dead on our feet, skating til we couldn’t stand straight, playing til we passed out.” The vile taste of victory was back in his mouth again, and Zheng Xi’s stomach heaved. “NHL Champions but I’ve never felt less like a winner.”

A small, sad smile on those pink, pearly lips. “I watched the game. It was solid, D-man. You deserve the title.”

I don’t fucking want it.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Beseeching, broken, he scanned Jian Yi’s bright gaze. “Not without you.”

A flutter of motion as Jian Yi hugged himself. A flutter of pale lashes fanning downcast eyes. A flutter of Zheng Xi’s battered heart as it braced itself.

“Jian Yi. Please.”

Shaking his head, Jian Yi staggered back. “No. I’m done being your dirty little secret.”

The words kronwalled into Zheng Xi, and the weight in his chest bottomed out.

That’s how he made Jian Yi feel?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t –”

“You don’t need to apologise, Zheng Xi,” Jian Yi softly interjected. “I know how much hockey means to you – so much that you can’t even be seen out in public with me, an openly queer sports journalist.” He shrugged or shuddered; Zheng Xi couldn’t tell. “I respect that you don’t feel ready to come out, and I would never ask you to do that for me. But all the lies and the secrets and the sneaking around… made me feel like a bad habit. Not a boyfriend.”

A prickling wetness pecked at the corners of Zheng Xi eyes. With a sharp nod, he turned on his heel. But Jian Yi closed the distance between them before he could walk away. Run away. Hide.

Tugging him down by the front of his jacket, Jian Yi wrapped his arms around Zheng Xi, the embrace tight and tender all at once. “Own it, Xixi. All of it,” he whispered.

It was over before it began, Jian Yi pulling back before Zheng Xi could snuffle those layered locks one last time.

A glint and a twinkle in a gold-flecked eye. “That’s different. After a win, you usually smell like a bar,” Jian Yi tittered. “Or eau de puck bunny. Tonight you just… smell like you.”

Zheng Xi’s lips lifted with a loose smile at that teasing tone. And fell again as Jian Yi waved a farewell and sidled back into his apartment, the resounding snick of the latch loud and lasting.

As he stumbled back down fifteen flights, Zheng Xi tapped away at his phone, searching for nearby Uber cabs. He ignored the searing sting behind his eyes, just like he ignored the missed calls and the multiple notification icons at the top of his screen; he wasn’t ready to deal with the aftermath of posting the Instagram video he had recorded at the back of the Prius. All the inevitable the ‘D’ in D-man jokes. Not yet.

But, as he huddled outside the building waiting for his ride, he thought back to how the Uber driver had treated him despite overhearing him come out to the world.

Just another pro athlete his son looked up to.

A sportsman. Not a sexuality.

And the crash-down slowed down to a free-fall til it almost felt like he was floating.

Knowing the PR team was already going to ream him out come morning, Zheng Xi hit the Twitter app on his homescreen and typed out: ‘Lacing up my rainbow skates. See you on the ice. #NHL #LGBTQAthlete #OwningIt.’

~~~

Glossary ~

Stanley Cup: The NHL championship trophy.

D-man: Defenceman; blueliner.

Kronwalled: A signature back-pedalling hit made famous by pro hockey D-man Niklas Kronwall.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 17)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 6.8k story words: 132.6k (so far) chapter: 17/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: @auroraphilealis​ is a truly wonderful person and she continues to push me to be better and i love her for that. thanks, as always, for being a great beta and an even greater friend <3 

The loud blaring of Dan’s phone alarm pulled him harshly from his sleep.

Jesus, he thought as he blindly fumbled around for his phone, the volume was never up that high.

With closed eyes, Dan ran his hands over the area around his body, under his pillow, above his head, feeling around for his phone in all of the usual places. The obnoxiously loud alarm just kept ringing though, he couldn’t find his fucking phone.

After what seemed like a bloody eternity, Dan’s hand landed on his phone. He cracked his eyes open just enough to hit the snooze button on the alarm, but was jolted further awake when he realized that he wasn’t in his bedroom — or even in his lounge for that matter.

Dan’s eyes flew all the way open so he could take in his surroundings. In his sleepy haze, it took him a moment to process that the colorful room he was in belonged to Phil.

That’s right.

Dan had fallen asleep while they were watching tv last night — on top of Phil, if Dan was remembering correctly. Even though Phil’s lap was rather bony, Phil was a wonderful pillow — better than any pillow Dan had ever slept on, anyway, as technology had yet to invent a pillow that could play with Dan’s hair. Phil must have rearranged them and decided to let Dan sleep on the sofa, rather than waking him up so he could go home. It was unfair of Dan to want Phil to sleep sitting up on the sofa, but he really did wish that he’d woken up with his head still in Phil’s lap and Phil’s hand still in his hair.

Unplugging his phone from the charger that had magically appeared sometime during the night, Dan looked back at the screen and saw that he had several unread messages from Louise.

Louise <3 [8:03AM]: Good morning :) I’m coming over early to pick you up for our meeting because I want to finalize your travel details for Germany.

Louise <3 [8:07AM]: I’m going to stop for coffee on my way there (perhaps at B&G hmmm). Do you want one?

Louise <3 [8:28AM]: You’re not answering, so I’m assuming you’re still asleep and that’s an automatic yes.

Dan had only just finished reading the messages when another text came through.

Louise <3 [8:32AM]: Your loverboy isn’t working :( Be there in 15. Get your ass out of bed.

Fuck, he really needed to beat Louise back to his flat, otherwise he was bound to be bombarded with questions about why he was rolling in at nearly nine in the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing.

The only merciful thing was that Dan knew for certain that Phil wasn’t working because he was asleep in the other room. He couldn’t believe that Louise had taken his silence as permission to go to B&G in hopes of meeting Phil.

Well, actually, he could believe it. It had been taking constant, persistent nagging on his part to stop Louise from stopping by thus far, he really shouldn’t be surprised. He would have to have words with her about it, though. A random, unexpected drop-by was not how he wanted Louise and Phil to meet.

For now, though, Dan opted to ignore her messages — it was better to have her think he was still asleep than admit that he wasn’t at home.

As quickly as he could make his sleepy body move, Dan tapped over to the Uber app, adjusted his location slightly, and —

The wait was only six minutes for a car, thank fuck.

Without hesitating, Dan threw the blanket off him. Distantly, it registered that he definitely had not fallen asleep with a blanket on, meaning that it had magically appeared sometime during the night, just like the phone charger. It didn’t surprise Dan to learn that Phil was an amazing host, given how truly amazing that boy was at everything.

Shaking the thought from his head, Dan climbed off the sofa. Frantically, he looked around himself, trying to figure out what he needed to do before he could leave.

Shoes. He needed shoes. Those were by the door? Maybe? And his coat. That must be by the door, too.

And —

Phil.

Fuck. Dan couldn’t have Phil thinking that he’d snuck out. But there wasn’t time to wake him, and besides, Dan didn’t want to disrupt Phil’s sleep.

A note would have to do.

Dan stumbled to the front door as quickly as he could manage. Clumsily, he tried to slip his shoes on and dig his ever-present lyric notebook and pen out of his coat pocket. He thumbed through the book, looking for a blank page, only to realize that it was getting full.

There wasn’t time to search for an empty sheet, so Dan flipped back to the beginning, ripping out an early page that had song lyrics scribbled on it from the first draft of a song he’d already released.

The page was nearly covered, both on the front and the back, but there was an empty space on the back of the page. That would have to do. Cramming his handwriting smaller than normal, Dan scribbled a quick note to Phil that would hopefully do an adequate job of explaining his disappearance.

I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?

♥ Dan

A notification popped up on Dan’s phone, warning Dan his Uber was arriving in two minutes. He had just enough time to set the note out for Phil and head outside before the car would arrive.

Dan rushed back to the lounge and sat the note on his abandoned pillow, before hurrying back to the front door. He grabbed his coat and ran out the door, pausing briefly to make sure the automatic knob lock was set before he pulled the door shut behind him.

Not wanting to make his Uber wait — or, more importantly, waste any precious time — Dan opted for the stairs instead of the slow lift, and skipped putting his coat on.

He made it to the curb seconds before the car pulled up. Perfect timing.

Maybe he had a shot at beating Louise to his flat after all.

As the car made its way to Dan’s flat, he anxiously checked his phone to see if Louise had texted him again. Surely, surely, she would text him if she got to his flat and realized he wasn’t home.

Other than the Your Uber Has Arrived message, there were no notifications on Dan’s phone — no texts, no snapchats, nothing. Great.

The ride felt like it took years, even though Dan knew it couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, tops. When the car finally pulled up in front of Dan’s building, there was still no word from Louise — hopefully that was a good sign.

However, Dan knew he’d been found out when his lift doors opened to reveal Louise standing with folded arms in his foyer.

“Daniel James Howell!” she scolded with a smile pulling at her lips and her eyes raking up and down his body as she appraised his appearance — Dan knew he probably looked a right mess. He was sure his clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them, and his hair was probably a wreck.

Dan reached up, trying to surreptitiously flatten it into submission. Clearly, that was the wrong move though, because it just seemed to further draw Louise’s attention to the disarray.

“Did you stay out all night?” she asked, sounding scandalized, but smiling nonetheless.

“Er… y-yes…” Dan stuttered, averting his eyes to the plant in the corner.

“Oh my god!” Louise exclaimed, clapping excitedly. Nervously, Dan shifted his eyes back to her and saw that her smile had twisted into a smirk. “Did you sleep with Phil?”

“No!” Dan denied quickly, his eye bugging out in alarm. “I told you — that’s not — I’m not — not yet!”

“Oh.” Her face fell, exuding disappointment. “I thought you weren’t going sleep with anyone before Phil.” Louise folded her arms again, but this time she looked stiffer, more genuinely annoyed. “Who was it then?”

Dan shook his head vigorously, embarrassed that Louise could even think that of him. The mere thought of sleeping with someone besides Phil made his stomach twist into an uncomfortable tight ball.

“It was Phil,” he rushed to reassure her. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips as he tried to figure out how to summarize last night. Dan could feel his cheeks heating up and he willed his body to calm down. He was feeling self-conscious enough without his stupid cheeks giving him away. “We just didn’t, like, fuck.”

Louise’s eyebrows shot up. “Forget travel planning, you’re giving me all the details while you get ready.”

Leading the way, Louise ushered Dan into his bedroom. Dan followed reluctantly — he knew that there was no way out of the interrogation he was about to endure.

He didn’t want to talk about Phil, he didn’t want to walk through the entire night with Louise. He was still reveling in the softness of it all, and he didn’t want to spoil it by analyzing every moment.

In the past, he’d never minded — had enjoyed, even — gossiping with Louise about his relationships. Now, though, he felt more exposed than he ever had when talking about a partner.

But then again, he’d never felt this way about anyone before.

By the time Dan got to his bedroom, Louise was already on his still-made bed, leaning against the headboard with her feet extended in front of her.

“Spill,” she ordered before he had the chance to say anything.

“We didn’t fuck,” Dan repeated, hovering at the end of the bed and nervously wringing his hands, shyly waiting for the impending barrage of questions.

“You said that already. What did you do?” Louise clapped once and stared at him imploringly.

“I fell asleep on the sofa while we were watching tv…Dan trailed off. When Louise raised her eyebrows skeptically, Dan continued. “It was innocent. Nothing happened.”

“Not even a kiss?” If anything, Louise sounded more suspicious now.

Dan should have known he wouldn’t get off that easily.

A high-pitched squeak of protest slipped out of Dan’s lips before he could stop it. He slapped his hands over his mouth, shaking his head again.

Well, that wasn’t really true, was it? Dan had kissed Phil on the cheek when he’d arrived. And then later — later, Phil had kissed Dan on the forehead.

Just thinking about it brought a deep flush to Dan’s cheeks. On instinct, Dan buried his face in his palms, hiding from Louise.

“Oh my gosh, you liar! You totally did!”

“Not on the lips,” Dan mumbled into his hands in defence.

“What what that, Daniel?” Louise prodded.

Reluctantly, Dan pulled his hands apart enough that he could peek out at Louise and speak without being too muffled. “I said not on the lips.”

Louise gasped, a wide smile on her face. “And where did you kiss, then?”

“Nope, nope.” Dan shut her down, mortified enough without having to explain it in any more detail. “That’s all you’re getting.” Dan defiantly turned around and walked into his closet, leaving the door open so he could still hear Louise. They needed to leave in forty-five minutes if they were going to make it to their meeting on time, meaning Dan had to get ready.

He definitely wasn’t planning to spend as long picking out an outfit as possible so that he could hide in his closet. Nope, of course not.

Dan pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it into the laundry hamper.

“Cuddling?” Louise asked hopefully, speaking a little louder now that Dan was out of sight.

He riffled through his clothes, looking for something that looked posh enough for a meeting with the studio executives, but was comfortable enough that he wouldn’t die if he ended up putting in a few hours at the studio afterwards. “Wh-what about cuddling?” Dan stammered after a moment, playing stupid in a fruitless attempt to evade the topic.

“Was there cuddling?” Louise clarified cheekily, clearly seeing right through Dan’s diversion tactics. “I heard you two were very cuddly Friday night.” She sounded knowing — too knowing.

Dan was eternally grateful that Louise hadn’t followed him into the closet, because he was certain his rosy cheeks would have given away just how cuddly he’d been with Phil recently.

But wait.

How the fuck did Louise know that him and Phil had been cuddly Friday night?

Fucking hell, if Adaline fucking...

“Are you and Adaline talking about me behind my back?” he screeched, outraged and embarrassed, dropping the black shirt he’d been debating wearing.

“Of course,” Louise confirmed dismissively. “Your life is interesting and you’re not being very forthcoming with the details.”

Jesus christ, this was what he got for having a best friend that he’d known his whole life. He ended up with a best friend and a sister who got along as well as siblings.

“Now talk,” Louise demanded.

With a huff, Dan bent over and scooped the shirt off the floor, shrugging it on.

“Yes, there was cuddling,” Dan relented with a sigh, buttoning up his shirt as he walked out of the closet.

Louise let out a happy squeal, cupping her cheeks in her hands and smiling widely.

“Are you happy now?” Dan pleaded, wanting the humiliation to end already.

“No!” Louise reprimanded indignantly, a stark contrast to the smile on her face. “I want more details than that, and you know it!”

Dan shook his head in exasperation as he crossed the room to his dresser.

“Fine,” Dan grumbled, scooping out a dollop of pomade and shaping his hair into an acceptable mess. Not for the first time while talking about Phil, Dan felt like a small school child with their first crush. “I went over yesterday to watch his favorite show with him, but Addie and I had basically pulled an all-nighter the night before so I was exhausted.” Dan’s eyes shyly flickered to Louise in the mirror, and he could see that she had shifted to sit up straight, leaning forward eagerly. “At some point, I laid down with, um, my head in his lap, and he was playing with my hair and then, I don’t know. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Awww,” Louise cooed. “That’s so cute that he figured out that you like your hair played with.”

“I, um, might have encouraged him,” Dan confessed sheepishly, keeping his back firmly to Louise.

“Oh my gosh, that’s even cuter,” she gushed. “It’s sounds like you’re making some moves.”

If he felt like a school child before, he felt like a rather pathetic preteen now — desperate to explore physical affection but terrified to try too much.

“I mean, yes and no.” Dan shrugged, turning around to face Louise. “As nice as the flirting and the cuddling and the cheek kissing are, I don’t have plans of letting it go further anytime soon.”

Louise eyed him for a moment, looking contemplative. “Come sit, love.” She leaned back into the headboard, and patted the space on the bed next to her.

Obediently, Dan crossed the room and crawled up the bed, leaning against Louise. “What?”

“I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to think I’m judging you or take it in a bad way. I just want to understand.”

“Okay…” Dan said tentatively. He took a deep breath and braced himself for whatever Louise was about to ask.

“You said you wanted to take things slowly with Phil — which I totally support. But I’m having trouble understanding how the cuddling and everything fits in with that. Because it sounds like you’re dating, just without, you know, calling it that.”

Dan sighed, running an agitated hand through his hair. Truth be told, he barely understood his feelings himself, so he had no idea how to go about explaining them to Louise. Phil was different, everything about Phil felt different. And maybe… Dan just wasn’t sure if he was ready right this second for what was bound to be an intense relationship.

“I don’t know how to describe it, really. It just feels… different somehow? Sex was such a big part of my relationship with Izzy, and I want things with Phil to have a chance to develop in other ways first.”

Louise nodded, looking contemplative. “You know, you could still properly date him — maybe even kiss him—” Louise flashed him a teasing smirk, “ —without having sex with him.”

Dan let out a bark of laughter. “Right,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “When have you ever known me to be good at restraining myself from having sex with a partner? If I kiss him, then I’m definitely going to fuck him.”

“Fair enough,” Louise chuckled. “But what do you have against calling what you’re doing dating?”

“It’s dumb,” Dan mumbled, ducking his head down and fiddling with the last button on his shirt, pushing it in and out and in and out.

Louise wrapped an arm around Dan’s shoulder, pulling him into her embrace. “I’m sure it’s not dumb. If you feel it, it’s valid.”

Dan let his hands be jostled from his shirt and allowed his head to fall onto Louise. The soft, squishiness of Louise’s chest was comforting, but Dan could help but compare it to the firmer pillow of Phil’s lap.

“It was bad enough when I realized that Isabella was using me for fame and money, you know? Like, I realized that our whole relationship was based on something totally different than I thought it was. But then when I found out she was cheating on me — for god knows how long — that fucking crushed me. I’m not ready to be that vulnerable again.”

Louise hummed softly, in the way she always did when she was showing interest but didn’t want to interrupt. Dan fell silent for a moment as he tried to sift through his thoughts.

“Right now,” Dan continued when he’d figured out how to say it, “In this weird limbo with Phil, it’s okay if I’m a little emotionally unavailable or don’t do any of the boyfriendy stuff right because we aren’t actually anything. Like, it’s okay if I’m a little selfish or fuck up. I don’t have to feel guilty for being a shitty boyfriend. It’s just… safer, I guess.”

Louise nodded, her chin bumping into the top of Dan’s head. “And how does Phil feel about being in limbo?”

“He’s being so good, Lou,” Dan gushed. “Last night, he mentioned a few times that I was in charge, that whatever I wanted was okay.”

“And he knows what you want?” Louise brought a hand up to Dan’s head, gently twirling a single lock around her finger, careful not to mess it up too badly.

“I think so. We talked about, like, twitter and stuff.” With a sigh, Dan turned his face more fully into Louise. Hidden in Louise’s arms, he felt more comfortable being open about his night with Phil. “And us. We, like, properly acknowledged that we liked each other.”

“And how’d that go?” Louise asked quietly.

“I said that I needed time before I could give him more than what I am right now, and he said to take all the time I need.”

Louise hummed quietly, thinking for a moment before speaking. “Sounds like a good egg.”

“The best egg,” Dan corrected, pushing off of Louise’s chest and sitting up. He swung his legs off the bed and offered his hand to her. “But I’ve now had enough serious discussion about my love life for the next year, so let’s go.”

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

Bright sun shined in through the window, forcing Phil out of his sleep and into consciousness. With closed eyes, Phil took slow account of the world, trying to figure out what time it was and what he had on his schedule today. Oddly, he registered that he was wearing a shirt — something he never wore to bed. On the rare nights where it was too cold to sleep bare-chested, Phil opted to wear a hoodie, not a shirt.

So why had he —

Dan.

Phil had chosen to wear a shirt to bed last night because Dan was in his flat, and Phil didn’t want to make him uncomfortable if they ran into each other in the middle of the night.

Straining his ears, Phil tried to listen for noises — anything that would indicate that Dan might be up and moving about — but the flat was completely silent.

He must still be asleep, then.

Even though Dan was in a different room and probably asleep, there was still something wonderful about waking up under the same roof as Dan. Phil didn’t have any idea what time it was, but he hoped it was late enough that he could wake Dan up without feeling too bad about it.

Phil pushed himself into a seated position and reached for his phone, which he’d left charging on his nightstand, like always. Surprisingly, it was only quarter past nine. When left to his own devices, Phil normally slept much later than that — and he knew Dan did too.

Killing a little bit of time before waking Dan, Phil scrolled through his notifications, not replying to any, and checked his email. Nothing looked urgent enough to warrant a response right now, so Phil happily disregarded them all. After checking his calendar, Phil realized that he was completely free until his meeting at the BCC at three. Provided Dan didn’t have anything pressing to do, Phil hoped that they could spend some of today together.

Pancakes and coffee — that should entice Dan into staying for a while.

With much less difficulty and self discipline than it usually took, Phil pushed himself out of bed. Fleetingly, Phil wondered how much harder it would be to get out of bed if Dan was laying next to him, and not on his sofa.

Well fuck, that wasn’t the right thought to be having first thing in the morning.

Phil took a few calming breath, chasing away the implications of those thoughts.

When Phil felt like he had control over his mind — and his body — he tugged on a pair of socks and padded out into the hallway. Just as he’d suspected earlier, it was completely quiet in the flat. Phil headed towards the bathroom, stopping by the lounge to peek in at Dan first. Trying his best to stay quiet, Phil snuck his head around the lounge door and —

There was no Dan.

“Dan?” Phil called out, surprised and a little confused

No answer.

“Danielllll!” he called again, backtracking to the kitchen to see if he’d passed Dan on his way to the lounge.

No Dan.

That only left the toilet, but as Phil rounded the corner, he saw that the door was open and the light was off.

No Dan.

Phil’s stomach fell as he realized that Dan must have already left. Where the hell was he?

Pouting, Phil trudged back to his room to collect his phone. There was no message from Dan, something that prickled at Phil’s nerves more than he wanted it to, but he was struggling to accept the fact that Dan — the most considerate person Phil knew — had left without any sort of goodbye. Unless —

Unless Dan had woken up feeling differently. Unless he had changed his mind about Phil overnight and had snuck out to avoid facing Phil.

That was a crazy thought, though. They were great last night — somehow even better than they’d been Friday night at the bar. Whatever reason Dan had for being gone, it couldn’t be that.

Right?

Before Phil could overthink it, he opened his conversation with Dan and typed out a quick message, clicking send without rereading it.

Phil [9:21AM]: Your’e gone and didn’t tell me :(

Blankly, Phil stared at the phone for a moment, willing Dan to respond instantaneously.

But, of course, he didn’t.

With a defiant click of the home button, Phil dropped the phone back on his bed and pulled a hoodie on. Phil paused to make sure that the phone volume was all the way up before shoving his phone into the pouch of his hoodie — he couldn’t tell if he hated himself just a little bit for that.

Phil headed back to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. Numbly, he stared at the water, simultaneously willing his overactive imagination to shut up and the water to boil. But no matter how hard he concentrated on the water, his mind kept drifting back to Dan, inventing more and more reasons why he might be gone.

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long for a response from Dan; the kettle wasn’t even fully hot when Dan texted back.

Dan [9:27AM]: soz i’m having a busy morning. i barely even had time for the note :(

A note. A wave of relief crashed through Phil. So Dan hadn’t completely run off on him.

Phil’s eyes immediately flickered to the fridge, and then scanned the countertops — the most normal places to leave a note — but came up short.

He fumbled with his phone to reply to Dan.

Phil [9:28AM]: Where?

Dan [9:29AM]: sofa

Dan [9:29AM]: figured youd see it there

Seriously? Did Dan foolishly believe that Phil would straighten the lounge before he had any caffeine? That boy was just as much of an addict as him.

Abandoning the kettle and his efforts to make a coffee, Phil dashed back into the lounge.

Sure enough, there was a piece of paper laying on top of the pillow that Phil must have missed earlier. Eager to see what it said — especially since Dan’s messages hadn’t really given Phil much to go on — Phil crossed the room in three quick strides and picked up the note.

The page was clearly torn from a notebook, one side adorned with small, torn bits of paper from where it had been ripped out. It was also covered in words — there was far more writing than Dan’s short text message had made it seem like he’d written.

Anxiously, Phil read it over, starting from the top.

The words made absolutely no fucking sense.

Well, they did, Phil just had no idea why they were relevant at the moment.

From what Phil could tell, the words were lyrics — lyrics that sounded rather like the single Dan had released at the end of the year, but not quite.

Phil scanned the rest of the page, finding that there was smaller, more cramped writing at the bottom. His eyes caught on his own name, and he slowed down to carefully read each word.

I had an early meeting and had to rush out because Louise is apparently on her way to my flat. Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa and the blanket and charging my phone. Coffee tomorrow?

♥ Dan

So Dan had had to rush out, that’s why he hadn’t said goodbye. And he had a meeting and was with Louise, that probably explained why his texts were so short, too.

But what was most reassuring — what Phil couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from — was the small, lopsided heart that Dan had doodled next to his name.

There was no way that Dan had woken up feeling any different than he had last night, not if he’d signed his name with a damn heart.

When Phil finally, finally, ripped his eyes away from the heart, he texted Dan back.

Phil [9:34AM]: I found your note! Did you make it home before Louise got there?

Phil put the note down on the coffee table, and returned to the kitchen, his desperation for caffeine growing now that the adrenaline from his panic over Dan had dwindled. His stomach was finally unclenching and his heart rate was almost a normal pace again.

The kettle had come to a roaring boil while Phil was gone; he flicked it off and opened the cabinet that was dedicated almost entirely to just mugs.

Over the course of his life, Phil had collected al ot of mugs — arguably too many. He had special ones from family and friends, but he also had a wide assortment of random mugs he’d purchased himself over the years (usually during his dubious late night shopping sprees).

It was a bit ridiculous, how many mugs he owned considering the fact that he lived alone — and didn’t even have, well, anyone over in the mornings to share coffee with usually. But he liked them, and couldn’t bare to part with any of them, so he kept all of them.

He settled on a Jurassic World mug that he’d bought and meant to return, but forgotten. Phil spooned in some instant coffee and sugar. Carefully, he poured the water from the kettle into the mug, but the loud ding of his phone startled him and he spilled a large puddle of nearly-boiling water on the counter.

Shit.

Better the counter than his foot… or his shirt… or any of the numerous other things that Phil had spilt on over the years.

Before the water could spread, Phil swiped his phone out of danger and threw a dish towel over the water. While the rag soaked up the spill, Phil looked at the notification that had caused the whole problem.

Dan [9:39AM]: no she was waiting for me in the foyer i felt like a teenager again

A high pitched giggle escaped Phil’s mouth before he could stop it. He had a sudden image of Dan unlocking his apartment, only to find this sweet, motherly looking figure standing like a disappointed parent at the entrance to his flat.

Phil [9:41AM]: You poor thing! Was she super awkward?

After tucking his phone safely back in his hoodie pocket, Phil moved his mug to the opposite counter and mopped up the still-warm water. He was fully intending on taking care of the mess and being a proper adult, but then his phone dinged again, and Phil abandoned the towel in favor of his phone, deciding the counter was at least passably dry.

Phil pulled his phone back out of his pocket and opened the message, only for his heart to plummet.

Dan [9:43AM]: yup

Phil stared at his phone blankly. Dan’s messages were incredibly short this morning, and this one — well, this one was just one word. Phil kept staring at his conversation with Dan, but a second and third and forth message didn’t come through, like normal. He was having a hard time reconciling the abrupt, succinct tone of Dan’s messages with the cute note adorned with a little heart. Unsure what to do, Phil decided to push just a little bit more, to see if Dan would elaborate more if Phil asked something more specific.

Phil [9:25AM]: Uh oh! What did she say?

Slipping his phone back into his pocket and grabbing his coffee, Phil went back to the lounge, determined to clean up and get ready quickly so he could relax and watch a few episodes of something before he had to go to his meeting.

As embarrassing as it was, Phil checked his phone every few seconds for the next ten minutes as he straightened up the mess from the sofa, folding the blankets and rearranging the pillows.

But there was no response from Dan.

Every minute that ticked by without a message from Dan, Phil’s anxiety built bit by bit. Why wasn’t Dan responding? Was he annoyed that Phil was asking questions? Was the heart on the note more casual than Phil had thought? Had Phil done something wrong?

Overthinking the situation was going to help any, so Phil forced himself to put down his phone and carry on with his day. He tried his best to convince himself that there was no point in obsessing over Dan’s responses — or lack thereof, really. Eventually, Phil grew sick of his mind wandering back to his phone, and he put on a podcast to occupy his focus.

Phil drank his coffee and did a half-assed job of straightening the lounge. It wasn’t as clean as it had been before Dan came over, but it was good enough. Figuring it was better to get ready before relaxing, Phil jumped in the shower.

The warm water helped to soothe away some of his worries, so that when he got out and got dressed, Phil actually felt sort of relaxed. The rest of his anxiety melted when he picked up his phone and realized he had a message from Dan. Several messages, actually.

Dan [10:42AM]: she was VERY interested in why i didn’t come home

Dan [10:42AM]: turns out her and addie have been gossiping behind my back

Dan [10:42AM]: so apparently i need new friends lol

Dan [10:47AM]: my morning has been nothing but important conversations so far and i want to be back asleep on your couch

That was more like the Dan that Phil had come to know — no respect for society’s rules on sending a million texts in a row, not particularly suave, and just this side of clingy.

Phil loved it. He was glad to see that this version of Dan was back

Phil [10:52AM]: Oh wow, your sister and your best friend talking about you? That sounds awful. I’m suddenly very glad that Martyn doesn’t have any of my friends’ phone numbers

Dan [10:53AM]: you should be. i’m sure he’d tell them all kinds of terrible and embarrassing things

Dan [10:54AM]: actually, can i get his phone number real fast?

Phil [10:55AM]: Hilarious -.-

Phil [10:56AM]: By the way, do you have a few minutes to talk about some work stuff in the next hour or two?

Despite the fact that Phil had responded to Dan within a minute of Dan texting him, there wasn’t an immediate reply. This time, Phil felt less panicked by Dan’s radio silence, comforted by the abundance of messages he’d gotten from Dan in such a short period of time — perhaps Dan just had another meeting or something.

Phil was, however, a little anxious to talk to Dan. Later today, Phil had a meeting with his supervisors at the BBC, and Phil knew they would want to talk about a guest host again. Phil was hoping to have some semblance of a plan that he could pitch when it inevitably came up. A few days ago, Phil had drafted ideas for what a radio special with Dan could be like — and he was actually kind of excited about what he’d thought of — but he wanted to confirm with Dan that he was still serious about appearing on Phil’s show, and maybe even get a feel for Dan’s opinions on some of it.

As much as Phil would have liked to have spent the day with Dan, a few hours of productive time certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Phil made himself a fresh cup of coffee and settled into the sofa with his laptop, deciding to use his time to edit the video he’d filmed yesterday.

The footage was a complete wreck, really. Phil had had no idea how to make slime and had pretty much winged it. As a result, there were two completely useless takes where he’d fucked it up beyond repair and had been forced to start over. Piecing together a rough cut of good footage took nearly two hours — double the amount of time it normally took.

Just as he was getting frustrated by having to pick between two equally good, but different, takes, he was saved from editing by his phone ringing.

Phil glanced at the caller ID and was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Dan. After the lack of response earlier, Phil had begun to suspect that Dan would be too busy to talk to him today, especially before Phil had to head out for his own meeting, but Dan must have found some time.

Not concerned about appearing too eager, Phil answered the call on the second ring.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil greeted with a smile.

“Hey, Philly!” Dan replied, sounding happier than Phil probably would be if he had had a day as busy as Dan’s sounded. “How are you?”

“Bored of working, you have great timing,” Phil chuckled. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you, though.”

“Sorry, yeah. I’ve been talking to people nonstop today and just managed to sneak away for lunch. I’m so over it.”

A rush of guilt hit Phil — Dan’s day had undoubtedly been filled with talking about work stuff, and here Phil was asking Dan to talk about yet another work project during his lunch break.

“That’s awful!” Phil sympathized. “We can talk later if you want so you can enjoy your lunch break!”

“I’m perfectly happy spending it talking to you, I promise,” Dan assured him. Phil felt a slow warmth spread through him at that, his heart beating a little faster and his cheeks flushing. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh!” Phil shook himself out of his fluster. “I have a meeting with my supervisors at the BBC today and wanted to talk to you about guest hosting before I brought it up to them.”

“Oh yeah, I’m excited!” Phil swore that he could hear a smile in Dan’s voice.

“So you definitely want to do it, then?” Phil asked, still not quite convinced that Dan wasn’t just doing him a massive favor. He bit his bottom lip as he waited for an answer.

“Of course, you spoon. It will be fun to work with you,” Dan reassured quickly, almost interrupting Phil.

Thank god. Phil released the lip he was chewing on, breaking out into a smile instead. He hadn’t been sure that Dan had been entirely serious when he’d agreed to the radio show.

“I agree,” Phil replied warmly “I’ve got a bunch of ideas, actually. If you have time I’d love to hear your thoughts, first?” Phil couldn’t keep the question out of his voice, still not entirely convinced Dan wanted to spend too long on the phone with Phil. Dan was quick to pacify his worries, though.

“Louise had to run home to take Darcy to daycare because her nanny got sick, I’ve got plenty of time.”

Just because Dan had time didn’t mean he had the brain power — Phil knew that better than anyone.

“And you’re sure you don’t want to just relax on your break?” Phil pushed one last time.

“Hit me with your ideas, Lester,” Dan said with a small laugh. Phil could practically hear Dan rolling his eyes.

He grinned, opening his google doc filled with notes for his potential show with Dan.

“Okay, okay, here we go.”

Phil walked Dan through his ideas for the show one by one. Even though Dan had no experience with radio, he had great instincts and proposed several great additions to Phil’s original plans. Together, they wove their ideas into an actual cohesive pitch for an episode.

By the time they’d talked about as many details of the show as possible, they’d been on the phone for nearly half an hour. The guilt that Phil had felt earlier gnawed at his conscious again when he realized that, sure, Dan might have been okay with talking to Phil on his lunch break, but there was no way that he’d wanted to spend his whole lunch break discussing work.

“Thanks for helping me. I’ll let you go enjoy your break now, though. You should probably actually eat something, you know.”

“Lou texted and said she’s bringing Greggs back, so I’ve got a bit more time to kill. If, um, you’re free, that is…” Dan trailed off, sounding suddenly unsure of himself.

“I’m always free to talk to you,” Phil assured him, speaking softly.

“Great,” Dan agreed, his voice just as soft as Phil’s. A slow smile spread across Phil’s face, his stomach filling with butterflies and his heart flipping over.

Normally, phone calls were terrible. Phil hated talking on the phone with PJ, his brother, even his mum. He’d always prefered to talk on facetime, or skype — or anything really. Something about not seeing the person, not knowing what they were doing and seeing their reactions made phone calls awkward and impersonal.

But not with Dan.

With Dan, Phil could hear the smile in his voice, and could perfectly imagine the way Dan was probably tapping his fingers on his thighs.

With Dan, phone calls were great.

But then again, with Dan, anything would probably be great.

[[next chapter]]

[lilikags]

HIHI !! hru

1, 12, 16, 18 for the ask game <3

hi tien !!!! i'm currently not in best health for today but i should be better tmr haha, hbu?

1- What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

i usually write on tumblr drafts (yes i've lost drafts many times and no i have not learned my lesson) so i don't change the font here but when I'm on gdocs it's usually Lora bcs i like making things pretty. its not that big of a deal and a nice addition so i change it when convenient depending where i'm writing. i also don't change it on coda if i write on there it's a pain

12- If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules.

my 3 writing wishes would probably to be to give me a space where i could write in absolute concentration which also stops time so when i come out, i have time to do other things. (and also preserves my energy, so i dont just immediately crash when i come out). my second wish would be to make tumblr be able to sort through drafts by tag. i have like 147 or so on my enst blog and it's terrible trying to find one specific thing. my third wish is to be able to get inspiration or the words i need by just asking for it, make my life easier pls :pray:

16- What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

idk if it's weird but i just set the book down and have it split open where i left off. or i just use my finger. one time i used a coupon from the mail

18- Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

ok so this is from my enst blog cuz tbh i haven't written genshin in a month (post here if ur interested) For most, it would simply just be words, but to Tsukasa, it was music. It was a special kind of music, one which didn’t have a particular beat, nor a particular structure or sound. But what made it so catchy, so catchy that he’d listen to it every second, was the sense of belonging he felt as he listened to your words of “You’re doing wonderful, my dear”. It was a sense of validation that hooked him, more addictive than any melody he had ever heard. It was a song meant for him, in which he both treasured and longed for. It was music to his ears, and nobody else’s, and he’d prefer if it was kept that way. so like. story of this week i went island hopping in coron and there was No Wifi so i started writing for kasa bcs i do not like swimming in the ocean so i stayed on the boat with Nothing To Do. so i started writing in my notes app LOL. i started thinking about kasa himself- what's important to him? music was one of the first things that came to my mind; he's an idol. and the post was about his love languages and i got to the receiving part and this is for words of affirmation (he needs it Desperately) so it kind of just. yeah it happened i never proofread that much so it stayed the way i originally wrote it yeah

-> ask game !!

[tomimagines]

See You Again - Pt. 2

Characters: tom holland x reader

Notes: This is part 2! Not the final part, though. Hope you guys enjoy (:

Part 1 Here

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tom’s POV

It’s the third day and still nothing. I’ve come to this same coffee house, at the same hour, and she hasn’t shown up.

I have to leave next week for work so I really hope I get to at least tell her my thoughts on her writing.

I’m sitting on the same armchair I sat in when I first came here with Harrison. I open up the Instagram app for what seems like the fiftieth time and let out a huge breath, closing my phone for the fiftieth time.

I lean my head back and check my pocket to make sure I have her sheets of paper even though I know they’re there.

I look around me to the many people sitting around. I try to avoid the spot where I saw her last so I wouldn’t feel that pang of disappointment again. But still my eyes move on their own and a familiar messy ponytail comes into view.

I immediately sit up, grabbing onto the arms of the chair and blink several times to make sure this is happening. She’s wearing an oversized sweater and leggings but it doesn’t look unnatural. She looks cute.

She sits on the same seat and takes out her laptop from her backpack. She then pulls out a power cord and I smile thinking about what happened last time.

I tap my pocket, trying to get some nerve to go up to her. Why am I nervous? Just go!

I clear my throat and stand up. I look down to check myself and when I’m finally satisfied, I walk in her direction.

Y/N POV

Oh, thank God you brought your laptop’s charger this time.

The last time you were here, you were in the middle of an important chapter and were so into it that you didn’t even think to save it and that’s when your laptop crashed and died, along with two days worth of work.

Now, you were able to write and finish the chapter and so you’re back to continue the next one.

You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose and push your hair behind your ears. You start to type the first paragraph when you feel somebody watching you.

You always feel like somebody’s watching you but you blame that on your small paranoia. But this time you feel it burning the side of your head.

You lift your head slowly and turn and you feel your heart drop to the floor.

What the fuck? How-?

“Can I help you?” You ask.

“Uh, yeah,” he chuckles and he seems surprised, almost happy that you spoke. “I really don’t know how to explain it but you left these here a few days ago and I just wanted to give them back to you.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out several crumpled up pieces of paper. Your eyes go wide as you recognize them and a million questions start firing in your head.

How did he find them? A few days ago? How did he know they were yours? He’s been waiting to give them back to you?

“I read some of them, actually. I hope you don’t mind,” he gives you a small smile, his lips pressed together.

He slowly hands you your papers and you take them tentatively as if they might cut you.

You haven’t spoken a word. You look down and one of your poems stares back at you. You swallow hard and fold the pieces of paper and stick them into your backpack.

“You shouldn’t have bothered. Someone usually just throws them away,” you tell him before looking up at him.

His eyes seem like x-ray vision and you feel vulnerable. He’s looking at you like there’s something in your face… and he likes it.

“Thank you,” you shoot him a smile. You don’t always mean to sound annoyed. You’ve always been antisocial and socially awkward so you can say it was like a coping mechanism. You’d rather show you have a spine than have people walk all over you the first chance they get.

But he wasn’t like those people. It’s only been five minutes but you know he’s not like that.

He smiles big now, seeing as how you’ve let your guard down just a bit. “Can I sit?” He points at the chair in front of you.

Your heart goes into overdrive. Here stands one of the most attractive men you’ve ever met, let alone breathed the same air and he wants to take a seat in front of you.

Your first thought is to pack everything up and make some excuse about how you’re needed at work but you slam it down. Today is not the day to push people away.

You nod and he immediately sits down in front of you. You pull your laptop closer to you to make more space on the small table but you don’t close it. It serves as a wall, you guess.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

He looks at you like he really wants to know what words come out of your mouth.

“Y/n,” you tell him simply. “Yours?”

A flash of shock crosses his face and he smiles. He smiles a lot. You like it a lot. “You really don’t know who I am?”

You shake your head, “I don’t.”

A lie.

“I’m Tom,” he grins and reaches out with his hand.

You grin too and take his hand and you stop breathing when shock waves travel from your contact with him all the way to your chest.

He seems to have felt the same because he’s staring at your joined hands in curiousity.

Okay, you’ve been holding hands too long. You make to pull it back and he lets go quickly.

“So you read my writing,” you say, trying to make conversation.

“Yes. I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

Usually, if it was anyone, it would bother you. It would bother you a lot. But you feel some sort of satisfaction that he read them.

“It doesn’t,” you breathe out, looking down at your keyboard and then glancing up at him. You push your glasses up your nose.

“I really liked them. You made me feel them, in a way. I don’t really relate to them but you wrote in a way that made me understand them. Well, the person they’re about.”

Your heart swells and your cheeks grow warm.

Exactly. Yes. That’s precisely what you want to put out there.

“I usually don’t look for approval,” you start, “but I’m glad you reacted that way to them.”

“Why’d you throw them out?”

“They were just rough drafts,” you shrug. “I keep the official stuff on here.” You tap your laptop which wakes it and displays your desktop. Your desktop which has a familiar face showing on it.

You close your laptop right away.

“So you’re a writer?” He asks, completely interested.

His english accent makes you feel all sorts of fuzzy inside.

You slowly nod. “Yes. I guess I can say that now officially.”

He starts to ask you about your work, the novel you’re currently writing, about the poems. He’s completely invested in this conversation and his eyes stay glued on you the whole time.

For once, you feel listened to. Interesting enough for someone to talk to. So you find yourself telling him things you would never tell anyone. You start telling him stories and he does the same.

I know, you find yourself thinking every time he tells you something about himself.

“You don’t seem surprised that I’m an actor,” he says, gazing at you.

“You look the part,” you quickly think.

“So you think I’m cute,” he smirks.

“I never said that,” you laugh, but your warm cheeks give you away.

“I think you’re cute too,” he says with the cutest smile. Your favorite smile.

“Ooookay,” you chuckle and start to place your laptop inside your backpack. “I actually have to go now. I may be a writer but that’s not enough to pay the bills, so actual work is calling.”

He stands up when you do. You place your backpack on your shoulders and look up at him.

“Can I walk you out?” He asks.

You nod and he steps aside to let you pass. You walk together to the exit and once you take a look outside, you immediately step back, bumping into Tom.

His hands are on your shoulders to steady you and that current flows from his fingertips again. “What’s wrong?”

You turn your head to the side, your body still facing forward, “It’s pouring!”

He looks past you and then starts to take off the jacket he’s wearing. “I’ll cover you. There’s a cab waiting in the curb. You’ll have to run, though.”

He has a boyish grin, like as if he was just given a new toy to play with.

“Are you insane? You’ll get wet or even worse, sick!”

“Better me than you, love.”

Love.

You slowly copy the grin he has on his face. You can’t help it. Usually, in situations like these, you would just turn around and wait the rain out. But right now you’re excited. He makes you excited.

“Ready?”

You both stand at the exit and he’s already holding his jacket over your head. You take in a deep breath and then nod. You both rush out into the chaos that is rain, people running, and cars honking.

He’s laughing and you’re laughing and soon, you’re yanking the door to the taxi open and jumping inside. You close the door but quickly look outside for him.

He’s still standing outside! The nerve of this guy. He’s holding his own jacket over him now but he’s pointing at the window and then to the ground.

You roll the window down and he’s laughing. “When will I see you again?”

You shake your head in disbelief. You can’t fathom the fact that this is happening to you, out of all people.

“Will you be waiting?”

He chuckles but nods, “Forever if I have to.”

You roll your eyes but you love his answer.

“Guess you’ll have to come every day until I show up.”

The jacket is not enough to keep him dry. His curls are hanging down his forehead, dripping. “I can definitely do that.”

You shake your head and laugh softly before putting the window up but his hand shoots across it, stopping it. “I can’t wait to see you again, y/n!”

The cab is already pulling away from the curb but you look back and he’s waving you off. You wave back and then sit forward again.

You bite your lip and you smile to yourself, thinking about how you can’t wait to see him again, too.

[mymusicalitylove]

Dive

In my feels. Trying to be productive and direct them in a positive way.

The other night I feel like I broke because the latest disappointment (that I created for myself), came to the surface. I took a hot shower, cried and told myself to let it all go. Hardest I have cried in a long time because I replayed a lot of scenarios about this endless loop I seem to be stuck in: I give up on this notion called ‘love’, discard it and begin to focus elsewhere.. then along comes another unsuspecting fool that says all the right things to get me twitterpated and caught up in the fantasies my brain creates. I get sucked in and think, ok, maybe this will go somewhere.. just to BAM! Slam my face into a wall of unending disappointment. Wash, rinse, repeat. It feels as though this scene has been on replay about eleventeen times over these last few years, and all I can say is: How. Fucking. Stupid (Who is the REAL fool? Ya, that’s me).

I went to bed after my therapeutic shower and slept ok, but kept waking up. I finally decided to get up and be productive, and had Ed Sheeran’s “Dive” stuck in my head. Hadn’t heard it in a while so I’m not sure where it came from, but it stayed with me the entire morning. 

My entries on this thing almost always relate to music and how the lyrics relate to my life. I’ve saved some drafts with songs I’ve wanted to write about later. When I realized I wasn’t going back to sleep, I decided to write; I checked my drafts and whoa.. “Dive” was already on there.. I don’t even remember saving it. 

(Despite there being a few too many typos for my taste in this post above, I feel it, Rising Woman!)

September 2019 is the most notable time I can remember starting the self-destructive cycle. My boss left at work and I decided I needed to do something to change my life up. I put all my energy into planning my amazing sabbatical in Italy. Everything was set up; all the wheels were in motion for me to see Europe, do me selfishly, and not worry about shit! In my mind I put together plans of sightseeing, concerts, volunteering, gymming, wandering, and getting lost in the country I fell in love with a year prior.

In October on a night out with friends, I met an EMT at a bar. He worked his bullshit game, and did it well because he was intriguing. He made me feel good over a two hour convo that honestly felt like a first date, and convinced me to give him the digits (which I don’t freely give to strangers). Too bad the man never called. Womp, womp.

After a taste of those vibes I craved that “feeling” again. I tried a dating app again for a couple months. In a comical turn of events, said dating app matched me with this same EMT! This presented me with the opportunity to call his ass out, and incidentally feel validated as to why it actually was better he never called. Talked to a few other guys on the app, but really can only report on a couple stupid funny anecdotes of just how sad it is that guys don’t know how to talk to women anymore. At least this time I wasn’t taking it seriously and only did it for shits and giggles. Decided okay, just keep focusing on plans for Italy, stacking that paper, and looking forward to the new year (*point and laugh at the idiot who had no idea what 2020 had in store!*). 

In January a boy (with a girlfriend) who I’d had innocent flirtation vibes with for a while tells me he’s now single. I had already placed him in the “not gonna happen” folder, and his confession obviously began a different wave of chemistry and banter for months. We had a conversation about the reality of where I am/what I’m ready for, and where he’s at/what he’s not ready for. Oh, and in the midst of all this, Covid hits and I have to make the heartbreaking decision to cancel Italy and deal with the feels of defeat that followed. And let’s also add all the sadness of being stuck with only me, myself and my thoughts in quarantine.

One last convo in April with “previously not gonna happen” sealed the deal of this endless string of flirtation not going anywhere and back in that folder he went. I then decided to give my number to this other guy who had shown interest a while back (but I hadn’t paid him any mind cuz I was stuck on folder guy). New dude didn’t really engage, so I disregarded him again, and worked on rearranging my place, organizing, decorating, spring cleaning and purging. Fast forward to now, it’s June and new dude comes back to work, asks to hang out, we have a great first “date” lasting three hours, and now here I am less than two weeks later wondering what happened. New dude: MIA / Me: WTF?

I truly do not understand why this cycle continues. Each time I feel like I get closer to something real, just to be lead into feeling like a fucking moron. I can’t stand it anymore, and it honestly makes me want to go back to being guarded and jaded, but I know that’s not the right way to find anyone. So I open up and allow some level of vulnerability, even though I’m scared af cuz of how hard I fell five years ago with the man I thought I was going to marry.

This is gonna hurt, but I blame myself first

'Cause I ignored the truth

Drunk off that love, my head up

There's no forgetting you

You've awoken me, but you're choking me

I was so obsessed

It was a matter of time

But you are the fire, I'm gasoline

Gave you all of me, and now honestly, I got nothing left

'Cause I loved you dangerously

More than the air that I breathe

Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going

Didn't care if the explosion ruined me

Baby, I loved you dangerously

I learned a lot from that short but impactful relationship. It was the love of my life and I went into it with complete abandon. I loved him dangerously. Things felt “right” and escalated quickly, which lead to our demise because we did not explore all the things before going full force into a relationship. We mutually thought this was “it” and talked about the future we would have. It completely broke me to end things, and upon rebuilding the pieces of me, I promised myself I would never rush into things like that again. 

I know that I do it to myself, but I guess I don’t know how else to do it. If I’m closed off and guarded, I’m not welcoming anything in; if I’m open and vulnerable, I start to dream in fantasyland with expectations just to be let down and end up inevitably disappointed. I clearly don’t know how to find the balance that works and it has become maddening beyond words. 

I need to find that balance, and it would be a lot easier to find in non-Covid times where I could have something else to focus my precious energy on, rather than wanting to find “my person”.

Maybe I came on too strong

Maybe I waited too long

Maybe I played my cards wrong

Oh, just a little bit wrong

Baby I apologize for it

I could fall or I could fly here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I've been known to give my all

And jumping in harder than ten thousand rocks on the lake

So don't call me baby unless you mean it

Don't tell me you need me if you don't believe it

So let me know the truth

Before I dive right into you

And I've been known to give my all

And lie awake, everyday don't know how much I can take

I could fall, or I could fly here in your aeroplane

And I could live, I could die

Hanging on the words you say

And I've been known to give my all

Sitting back, looking at every mess that I made

This new dude made me really feel this. I tend to fall, and fall hard because I am so ready to give my heart to someone. But I need to put on the brakes and slow my damn roll. 

I can’t keep getting my hopes up. That is ultimately my problem. I tell myself to not have expectations and I do well to begin with, then have an amazing connection and am fed (what is obviously) bullshit and fall for it like a moron. I have grown thicker skin this time around, so at least there’s that.. but hopefully this has been my last lesson. 

I have found a new diversion for my focus and just put in my first offer for a new home! This will be my new passion project and will take up my thoughts and energies for a while, so as freaked tfo as I am, I am equally excited for this new venture. If it’s meant to be, it will be, and if it’s not, my new little home is out there somewhere not ready for me yet. 

06/19/2020 - 11:51 PM

[bazstclair]

To All Ends - Tododeku Fic

Boku No Hero Academia

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376260/chapters/28152861

Word count: 1788

Summary: Midoriya Izuku is a writer. For the past year and a half he had been writing a story based on the superhero adventures of Deku! A teenage superhero. Caught up in writers block however he finds motivation by his favourite tumblr user - HalfnHalf.

“Deku breathed out a sigh of relief as he lowered his destroyed arms to his side. It was finally done. Or that was what he'd thought.” Midoriya stopped writing, placing his pen down on top of his spiral bound notepad. He'd been writing this story for the past year and a half and as much as he hated writing he was finding it more and more difficult to put his thoughts down on paper. Midoriya had also often experienced having writers blocks in the past year over this story. There was so many ways he could go with it and most of the time it was difficult to get his story flowing, this was why he would only update it when he was finally happy with a chapter. Probably like other writers.

The green haired boy loved to write, ever since he was a child. For him it was like escaping to another world, giving him the space to explore all these different ideas and concepts he often thought about when he should be focusing on something else.

He glanced back at his computer that was open on the table, where his latest chapter glared back at him that he had updated just a month ago. From that point he'd decided that instead of posting as irregularly as he did, he would complete the first draft before posting anymore. Midoriya swivelled around in his chair looking around his room. He glanced at the clock on the wall - 2:30pm. He let out a sigh of defeat before trudging to the kitchen to take his medication. Again.

This was also partially why he loved to write. He was able to live out his dreams through his alter-ego, Deku. An all powerful superhero who could do anything. It gave him a bit of freedom, no matter how small or insignificant it may have seemed to anyone else, to him it was everything.

He looked at the medication bottle with animosity cursing under his breath as he took two tablets as prescribed, before going back to his room when he heard a notification from the direction of his computer. Midoriya jumped upon reading the little message saying that there was an update from his favourite artist on tumblr. A grin crossed his face before opening up his tumblr tab.

His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe his eyes as they took in every single detail of a green haired superhero, surrounded in lightning mid jump as through he was going to crash out of his computer screen. The details in the powerful grin to the creases in the clothes, it was exactly as how Midoriya pictured Deku to be. Down to the cowlick that stood up on the top of Deku’s head. His hands shook as he typed out a message to the artist - Halfnhalf - then he stopped.

What was he thinking?! He can't just message someone out of the blue that he's never talked to! It would look creepy and stalkerish and this was someone he looked up to it would be even more weird if he suddenly messaged them. Also, what was he supposed to say to his favourite artist of all time?

Hi I'm the writer of that story you drew a picture of and I really fucking like it and I also really fucking like you- No! Midoriya swivelled round in his chair, this was a real situation. He couldn't contain his inner fan boy that someone had loved his work so much they drew fan art of it and the fact it was his favourite artist nearly quadrupled his excitement.

You got this Midoriya. It's just a message he thought to himself. It's not like you're ever going to meet this person it's just a guy or a girl online don't get ahead of yourself now.

What would Deku do?

Deku would probably write it out calmly and not freak out over it.

Midoriya gathered himself before writing out the message again.

FuckyeahDeku - Hi! I just wanted to say that I loved your piece just now on Deku and that you captured him exactly as I imagined him to be!

Midoriya sent the message before he could stop himself again hiding his face behind his hands as he looked at the picture again. He had a stupid grin on his face that literally spreads from ear to ear and he didn't care. He then realised what he'd just done. What if the person gets creeped out by him? What if the person gets 2 million messages a day and would never read his? What if they don't read messages at all? What if they read it but never respond because it was such a childish thing to write? What if-

Midoriya let out an inhuman squeal as his computer bleeped again with a notification.

THEY ANSWERED BACK!

OhGodohgodohgodohgod-

HalfnHalf - Thank you, I'm glad you like it so much.

Midoriya hit the floor with a thud, feeling over the moon that his favourite artist replied. It was such a euphoric feeling that he didn't know how to comprehend with it at the moment. But only one thought passed in his head right now.

He had to reply, and that's what he did.

FuckyeahDeku - How far have you gotten into the story?

Midoriya waited anxiously as he waited for the reply. He felt as though hours had passed even though in reality it must have been two minutes, but he still couldn’t grasp the idea that he was talking to one of his most favourite people on earth right now and that they responded to one of his messages.

HalfnHalf - I’ve re read the story several times. Author updated a month ago so I’m just waiting.

Izuku let out a scream. He couldn’t contain his feelings. This person re read his story! Someone read his story more than once! Someone loved his Deku as much as he did!

HalfnHalf - What about you?

Oh shit. Did he want to tell this person that he was the author? That he was the one that came up with the concept of this whole world that evolved around Deku’s heroic adventures? What if the person would be angry with what he had written? What if he didn’t like the plot? What if-

Izuku slapped himself across the face. He had to stop thinking of what if’s. He should tell this artist the truth. It was only right. But then, a bright idea crossed his mind.

FuckyeahDeku - Sorry, I’m at a writers block at the moment. But I’ll try to update soon!

Izuku quickly deleted the whole message.

FuckyeahDeku - I read the whole thing. Just waiting as well. Who’s your favourite character?

He quickly jotted down his idea for his story onto the spiral bound notebook, he didn’t know why he was suddenly feeling so inspired to write or to even update as soon as possible but he had a feeling it was to do with the person on the other side of his messages.

*

Todoroki Shouto looked away from his homework glancing at his laptop on the desk, his tumblr dashboard looked back at him. His latest piece of work on the screen. It had taken him maybe three days to finish this piece and normally it would only take a two days at the most. But considering this was a piece that he had been wanting to do for so long he wanted to do his best. Even better if the author recognised it.

He didn’t know what had brought him to even read the story on wattpad, maybe it was because he was tired of his comic books that he wanted to read what other people wrote. So imagine his surprise when he found something better in just words than a book with pictures.

The story was about a guy named Deku, a normal teenage boy without any superpowers until it was passed onto him by the number 1 superhero. Shouto loved the idea that this guy with no quirk had been a hero even before having powers, he helped people in any way that he could to the best of his ability. The idea that this human insignificant and would probably never be remembered in history but would be remembered by the people he saved and even that wasn’t important to him. Shouto had read the story so many times he could probably recite the first chapter off by heart if anyone asked him.

He didn’t know what took him so long either to draw a picture of this story. But maybe it was due to the fact that he didn’t want to tarnish anyone’s idea of what Deku would look like or that he could never be able to capture what he imagined onto paper. He made sure to capture what he thought Deku’s smile would look like though, the hero that smiled in the face of danger. Just like his own hero, All Might.

Shouto looked at the clock on the wall, it was nearly midnight and this other fan hadn’t responded after Shouto stated that his favourite character was Deku - obviously - and was hoping the author would update soon. It wasn’t uncommon for Shouto to get messages like this on his pictures either, he didn’t post often but when he did he made sure every picture was perfect. He refused to show his sketchbook or anything of a lesser standard. For him, art was everything. But he doubted he could do something to do with it in university if his father had anything to say about it.

He started getting his things ready for school tomorrow when he heard his phone beep. He froze on the spot in his pyjamas at the notification. The story was updated. Shouto quickly opened up the app to find an A/N at the beginning of the chapter.

Hi guys! Sorry it’s been so long since I’ve updated! I’ve had really bad writers block and I’ve been quite busy but seeing HalfnHalf’s artwork really motivated me to finish this chapter so I hope you like it! I’ll post the link to his tumblr here.

Shouto couldn’t believe what he was reading. The story was updated. Just as he was saying he hoped it would soon. The author saw his work… The author saw his picture! There was a bubble of excitement rising in his chest as he saw a notification on his tumblr app.

FuckyeahDeku - Deku is also my favourite. I hope you like the new chapter too! Let me know what you think!

The red and white haired boy looked at the message quizzingly before it dawned on him.

HalfnHalf - You’re the author aren’t you?

FuckyeahDeku - Guilty >.<