#not romantic but definitely no one asked for it and it felt totally random / disconnected | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

collecting-stories · 4 years ago

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Netflix & Chill - Topper Thornton

Request: I just binge read all ur Topper stuff and now I'm in my Topper feels and can I pleaseee request Topper smut? I love how you write him and ur Rafe smut is literally my fave!! xo

A/N: Got this inspo for this from someone literally posting on the college messageboard for someone to watch Netflix with them.

Outer Banks Masterlist

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-anyone wanna watch some Netflix?-

You stared at the post on the college message board, trying to get a decent look at the kid who posted without clicking on their student profile. 

“What are you doing?” Your roommate asked, getting off her bed and coming over to see what you were looking at on your phone. 

“This post,” you tilted the phone her way, “is it crazy that I was kinda considering it?”

“Yes. You don’t know this kid, what if he’s a creep?” 

“I don’t know...what if he’s really cool?” You shrugged, clicking on the reply. 

“No!” She tried to snatch the phone but you slid off the bed, moving over to your desk and pushing your chair in front of you as you replied to his message. 

-I will, where are you?-

“No, do not go to some random guy’s dorm, you don’t know him! He could be a total weirdo!” Your roommate stressed. 

“Too late,” you stepped on the chair and moved around her, grabbing her shoulders to shift her out of the way as you grabbed your sandals and made for the door. “I’ll see you later!” 

You knew it was a little crazy to be showing up at some guys dorm after he randomly posted on the school message board but you were new, not just to college but to the state and with everything being virtual you couldn’t help feeling a little more disconnected than usual. The reasonable voice of your mother rang in the back of your head as you pulled open the door to the building he told you he was in, telling you that this was how people got sick and died. By not being cautious. 

“113, 113...113.” You mumbled as you came up to the door, knocking gently. What if someone else offered to come over too? You should’ve checked to see if he left the message up. He could open the door and tell you to leave, that he got a better option. But that was crazy, that was just you reading too much into the situation. 

“Hey,” the smile on his face was so easy it actually had you feeling a whole lot better, “I’m Topper.” 

“Hey.” You introduced yourself, stepping into the room when he opened the door wider.��

“My roommate’s already home for the weekend so I figured...ya know.” 

“Yeah, honestly I like my roommate but we’ve been cooped up together for a week so I’m kinda dying for a change.” You replied. Sitting in your dorm all day with headphones on doing school work wasn’t really the idea you had of college this year. 

“I get that,” he nodded. 

You couldn’t deny that things felt the slightest bit awkward, like neither of you were really sure how to proceed next. He moved over to the tv, grabbing the Apple remote while you stood in the middle of the room, unsure if you should just sit on the bed or not. 

“Any preferences?” 

“Not really, whatever you wanna put on.” You replied, silently reminding yourself not to get so in your head as you took a seat on the bed, resting your back against the wall. 

He put on Friends from a random episode in the third season, probably where he’d left of last and that had you thinking maybe he’d done this before. Of course, one look at him had you thinking he’d definitely done this before. 

Topper handed you a water as he sat down beside you on the bed. The whole thing felt a little awkward but you supposed that was how it went. It wasn’t like you were both drunk, hooking up in someone’s bathroom at a party. When he did the casual arm over the shoulder halfway through the first episode of Friends you bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing and ruining the whole thing. You scooted a little closer, leaning in a little more in hopes that would get your point across. Unless you were reading into this wrong you were pretty sure that you had interpreted the message the right way.

When the third episode started to play you figured making a fool of yourself might be totally worth it. “Are we like...actually watching Netflix?”

“What?” Topper asked, turning just enough that he could face you, arm still around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry...I just, when you said, anyone wanna watch Netflix I thought you meant like...ya know, netflix and chill...like...is that not what this is?” You asked.

Thinking on his feet Topper nodded, “yeah, yeah, that’s totally what this is I just...didn’t want to rush the pace.”

In truth, he had honestly been bored out of his mind laying around in his room and figured he would put himself out there and see what came of it. He hadn’t expected anyone to respond and when you did he had clicked on your profile to get a better look at your picture. Cute, definitely his type, even more so when he opened the door and you were standing there for real. He had taken a bit of a bold chance with the arm around the shoulder, maybe this could turn into something more...but he definitely wasn’t expecting you to make any kind of move. And definitely not that one.

“Admirable,” you teased, “but I think we can rush it a little bit.” You wouldn’t have cared if he never turned the TV on to begin with.

“Right.”

Seeing that he was still a little hesitant you grabbed his face in your hands, pulling him forward and kissing him. His arm dropped to your back and tried to pull you closer, forcing you to shift around on your knees until you were straddling him, basically sitting in his lap with his back against the wall.

Topper’s hands pushed up your sweatshirt and slipped underneath it, running up your bare sides as he realized you hadn’t worn a bra over to his dorm. Definitely not what he was expecting but he made the most of it. While you kissed him, tongue running along his lower lip, Topper cupped your breasts. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, finding himself rewarded with the softest of whimpers that passed through your lips.

You moved your hands down his chest and abs, enjoying the way his muscles tensed and then relaxed at your touch. You pulled away long enough to pull your sweatshirt off, tossing it on the other bed in the dorm. His shirt went next, you pulled it off while he was still taking in the sight of you topless, sitting in his lap.

“I should mention,” Topper said as you leaned forward, brushing your lips against his neck and collar, your fingers brushing against the skin at the waistband of his sweatpants, “I don’t usually do hookups like this.” Even as he said it his hands kneaded your breasts. The sound of Rachel and Joey’s banter dying in the background as he let himself get drawn into the moment.

“Me neither.” You confessed, lifting your head to look at him. You kissed him, a softer peck then all the others had been.

You climbed off his lap, careful not to fall off the bed and embarrass yourself. Shifting around on your knees you nudged Topper, smiling when he took the hint and laid down. You got off the bed and pulled your tights and underwear off before straddling Topper. Just the way he looked at you had your heart racing. He said he’d never done something like this and even though you could hear your roommate’s voice in the back of your head telling you he was probably lying you didn’t care. All you cared about was this.

“God, you’re really fucking beautiful.” Topper compliments, hands running your ass and gripping the backs of your thighs as you leaned down to kiss him.

“You sound so cliche.” You teased, lips brushing against his. With one hand pressed into the mattress to keep yourself steady, your other hand ran back down his stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. You rub your hand over him, pressing down just enough to elicit a moan, your mouth kissing along his jaw and down his neck.

Topper tilted his head back, giving you more access to the canvas of his skin, sucking a bruise at the base of his throat. You rubbed over him once more before pushing your hand beneath the elastic band of his briefs. He sucked in a breath when you wrapped your fingers around his dick, your thumb running over the tip, smearing precum.

“Holy shit.” He moaned as moved your hand up and down slowly, constricted slightly by his underwear. You’d never in your life wanted so badly to kiss every inch of a person. You sat up, backing up so you could push down his sweatpants and underwear, bunching them around his knees. It wasn’t the most romantic thing in the world but at the moment you didn’t give a shit.

You braced yourself with one hand, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick and leaning down to slide the tip into your mouth. He groaned, eyes rolling at the feeling of your mouth on him as he reached down to grip your hair. You definitely weren’t an expert at giving head and you had never volunteered so eagerly before but there was something about Topper that had your head swimming in the best way. You pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his dick and licked up, swirling around the tip before taking him into your mouth again. His hand pushed against your head, keeping you in place as he thrust up, the feeling of him practically hitting the back of your throat had you moaning around his dick. A moment later he was pulling you off him, tugging at your hair to guide you up to your knees. You took the hint, hands on his abs as you kneeled up again. He trailed his hands back up to your hips as you sunk down on him, whimpering at the feeling.

It’d been a while since you had sex and you’d never been on top before but god were you loving the feeling of it. You grind down on him slowly, finding a rhythm as Topper holds you, fingers digging into your hips, bruising. When he thrust up into you, you moaned, the feeling so strong your hand hit the wall beside you to keep you from falling over.

Topper grinned, clearly smug. “That feel good baby?” he asked, the shift in control almost palpable. You bit your lip, nodding as your eyes met him. “Hold onto the headboard.”

You do as he says, gripping the headboard above him, eyes dazed as you stared down at him. For a split second you almost began to wonder what was gonna happen when this was over but before you could even fully form that though Topper was thrusting up into you, practically lifting your knees off the bed like it was nothing and you were a mess at the feeling.

“Oh my-” you moaned, “I’m close.”

“Shit, yeah,” Topper’s voice was strained, “touch yourself?”

You gripped the headboard tighter as you moved one hand, reaching down to slip your fingers between your folds, middle finger circling your clit and making you spaz just as he thrust up. The rhythm was getting sloppier as he got closer and his grip on your hips was almost brutal. You clenched around him, and he groaned at the feeling of you cumming. You grab his wrist, holding tight as he lifts you off of him and you spaz from the sudden loss of him inside you. Trying to hold yourself up, you lean back on your calves, letting go of the headboard to hold his thigh as he pumps his hand over his dick a couple times before shooting cum onto your stomach.

He laughs when you stick your tongue out, caught off guard at the sudden. His grip on your hip loosened as he sat himself up, careful to help you readjust as he did. “You good?”

“Yeah, awesome.” You replied, voice hazy, maybe even a little sleepy. The soft lull of the TV caught your attention for a moment and you looked over at the screen as Joey entered the apartment, “I love this episode.”

“We can start it over,” He promised, shifting out from under you and pushing his pants all the way down so he didn’t fall completely on his ass and embarrass himself in front of you. He grabbed tissues from Kelce’s side of the room and you watched as he cleaned you up.

“Sorry,” you said, moving over in bed when he climbed in, covering both of you with his comforter as you rested your head against his chest. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do next.”

“I got all afternoon, let's just see what happens?”

You hummed, “sounds good.”

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catharsis-in-a-bottle · 4 years ago

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A very long post about romantic attraction, social situations, sexual orientation, etc.

In short, a slightly organized brain dump involving some of my personal experiences and hopefully some takeaways.

There are many things I’ve learned, both in general and about myself, simply by investigating online resources about the acespec and arospec communities.

Some of these were things that I think I already knew internally, but that I had never voiced before because I didn’t have the words or the terms to describe them.

I’ve learned about different types of attraction, and I’ve realized that I can categorize them internally. For example, I’ve definitely mistaken platonic attraction with romantic attraction in the past. The term ‘squish’ - basically a sort of friend crush - can be applied to several of my experiences, and honestly, it really explains my conscious disconnect towards romance. I’ve realized that wanting to get to know someone better does not equate wanting to date them.

I’ve learned about other arospec identities, like greyromantic and demiromantic, and how they might apply to me. I’ve realized that my romantic attraction has essentially been limited to one person, and that otherwise my desires have been platonic - again, wanting to get to know someone better because I find them interesting, or else having a deep admiration/respect for them. None of these things are romantic attraction, and it’s been very relieving to discover this. It makes sense.

I think I’ve always had a weird feeling towards all the societal cues and expectations associated with romance. Why are certain things associated with wanting to form a romantic relationship? As a child, I thought I was a girl and I knew, just from the social code of school life, that becoming friends with boys would be seen as some romantic advance (despite the fact that we were all literally elementary schoolers.) In first grade, everyone thought I had a crush on this kid I was friends with, and I always laughed at them. I was just looking for friends. Friends isn’t a freaking gender-specific term. I think I’ve always kind of tried to “play it cool” with the boys, especially in middle school, simply because I didn’t really want anyone to think “haha, so-and-so is dating so-and-so” just because I had a conversation with another person. And what sucked is that when I thought I might be bi, I kind of consciously did the same thing around girls as well - I tried to be socially adept and “cool” and not too overly open, just because of all of these social codes that indicate romantic intent.

One of these strange codes that confused me was this: “if so-and-so has a crush on you, you should totally date them!” What if I didn’t like so-and-so back? Why the hell would I date them? But something that I witnessed happening quite often in middle school was kids finding out someone ‘liked’ them and then wanting to ‘like’ that person back, despite not having formed attraction in the first place. It felt like a puzzle. It was something that I observed and maybe sort of over-analyzed, because dissecting social situations and laying out pieces of the puzzles on the floor is something I just do. I reckon that kids were not only beginning to experience romantic/sexual attraction individually, but that they were also recognizing the social standards that were beginning to form. The first batch of kids wanted to form relationships (if not long-lasting ones), and so they did; other kids who were experiencing attraction subsequently felt a little bit of pressure to get with someone fast. The complaints of “I’m so sad I don’t have a boyfriend” and similar phrases rang free throughout the hallways. In short, allo- and heteronormativity seems to have influenced a lot of people. Which is fine for many, but also restricting for those in the lgbtq+ community (but of course, the jungle of school life does not intend to cater to the minorities) It was simply a thing that happened, and a thing I’m seeing a bit more clearly now.

[Also, the concept of using the word ‘like’ to describe adolescent romantic interest in another person always confused me. I never got why ‘like’ had romantic intent - I liked people that I’d formed friendships with. No one ever outright said “I have a crush on this person.” They just said like.]

There’s only one occasion on which I’ve known how to react emotionally to someone telling me that he had romantic interest in me, and that’s only because I personally ‘liked’ them back. I had already imagined that situation, and I welcomed it. [Amusingly enough, we both kind of ignored our confessions for a while, but eventually we formed an actual relationship. Ah, the joys of social situations.] But in terms of other people admitting their interest, which hasn’t happened all that much but has still happened, I’ve had very mixed reactions. One time a couple of years ago, it was my friend whom I cared very deeply about. I didn’t really know how she knew that I didn’t have interest in dating her, but somehow she did, and she told me so. This made my reaction less clouded and more simple, and it wasn’t really an uncomfortable situation; I confirmed easily enough that I didn’t have any interest in dating her and the situation resolved nicely. Basically, although it wasn’t an ideal occurrence, it didn’t affect our friendship in any way.

But there have been other times where it’s been extremely uncomfortable. Once, I joined an after-school club in which I barely knew anyone. During one of our meetings, we took a walk to a local coffee shop to just sort of hang out. And this girl - I’ll call her ‘C’ for online purposes - sat down and started talking to me. This was fine - why not have a bit of conversation? She talked about K-pop a lot (which eventually got very annoying lol) and just seemed like she wanted to be my friend, and internally I told myself well, I don’t really know her and she doesn’t seem like the kind of person I want to hang out with but we’re at a coffee shop and I’m bored. At the end of our coffee shop trip, C asked for my phone number. I didn’t take this to mean anything beyond the fact that she wanted to talk to me more, and though I felt inclined to decline her offer, I really didn’t want to hurt her feelings (again, the joys of social situations.) So now she had my phone number. Here’s where things got weird. For one thing, she sent me a bunch of random pictures of K-pop singers, saying things such as “omg he’s so hot” which was already uncomfortable in itself. Me, being a bit of an idiot, didn’t stand up for myself, or even block her number. Then, she came out to me as pansexual and told me she had a crush on me. When she told me this, she did not imply in any way that she didn’t have an intent of dating me or something, so I was very, very uncomfortable for several reasons. Firstly, I didn’t know her that well - I didn’t really even consider her a friend. Secondly, I definitely did not want to date her because I didn’t really know her. And thirdly, I didn’t know how to react. I think I said something along the lines of “Oh, well, um, okay, I don’t have a crush on you” and left it at that. For the final puncher, she started finding me in the hallways after school as she left for the bus and giving me hugs. I am typically not a physically affectionate person, so this was just weird as hell for me. Again, like an idiot, I didn’t stand up for myself, and so I just kind of stood there... all of this took place right before my school shut down because of the pandemic, so I was literally saved by everyone getting kicked out of school. Thankfully, I did not see her anymore, and finally I blocked her number as I should have done much, much earlier. [I didn’t intend to make that story so long, but there it is anyway.]

The point is, I found it extremely strange that someone I barely knew had a crush on me. This feeling was amplified when, a couple months ago, something else happened: someone on Instagram, who I didn’t know at all, expressed interest in dating me. I was extremely confused. Apparently they sort of knew me because we were in the same school system, but I’d still never met them.

I simply mean to say that romantic attraction drives people to lengths that I personally find strange and inconceivable. Looking into the aromantic community has taught me that essentially all of what we deem ‘romance’ is socially constructed. The rules, the implications, the things you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to flirt with the person you ‘like’. You’re supposed to get all nervous around them. You’re supposed to only form a relationship with one person or else you’re considered weird and even perverted. Flirting seems like a ritual, nervousness seems like a prison - why can we not do away with the expectations and simply do what feels comfortable to us individually? I have learned about the term relationship anarchy, which means doing away with and rebelling against all of these expectations. The expectation of monogamy, of ritualistic performances, of a certain type of romance, of what actions are deemed romantic or sexual, of having to have a romantic and/or sexual relationship, etc. I find that relationship anarchy is a very appealing concept. People should have whatever relationships or lack thereof that they wish. Queerplatonic relationships should be normalized. Loveless aromanticism should be understood and not demonized. Polyamorous people should not be alienated. In short, these societal expectations that we’ve established have no purpose beyond defining what a “real relationship” is, and by ensuring that romantically loving one other person is what “makes us human” and deems us “normal” in society. Platonic and familial love should not be put below romantic love, yet we’ve created a hierarchy. Me platonically loving my true friends should not be “less than” me romantically loving my boyfriend. And people who just don’t want any sort of relationships or attachments to other people should be respected, because they are not negatively affecting anyone in any way. Except by hurting the feelings of bigots, and I’d pay anyone to do that any day if I had the money.

Though I love my friends and my boyfriend in different ways, I realize that I have extremely similar criteria for a friend versus a partner. Beyond my general confusion regarding romance as a concept, this is another thing that has led me to believe I am arospec. It’s always been very difficult for me to imagine romantically loving someone who I couldn’t consider a friend - how, then, would my relationship even work? One thing about society’s ideas of romance that I do resonate with is the fact that your partner should be your best friend. [For me personally. I’m not just making a general claim.] It’s hard to see myself dating someone who I hadn’t known before, who I hadn’t befriended, who I hadn’t considered a best friend because we knew each other and had come to form an actual bond. I would be happy spending my life with someone who I considered both a best friend and a romantic partner. I don’t think this is something that is of absolute necessity to me - I could see myself without a romantic partner, which is another major reason I’m beginning to consider myself arospec [maybe greyromantic or demiromantic.] And of course, I have conflated romantic and platonic attraction in the past; upon reflection, I think I’ve only experienced genuine romantic attraction once, which of course also prompts me towards arospec.

Many resources - tumblr accounts dedicated to aspec experiences and questions, online stories, even just bare definitions of terms I didn’t know - have been extremely helpful in not only my understanding of myself, but also of the variety of experiences that lie with others. There is a beautiful array of diversity out there in the ways people think and feel, and it feels as if I have discovered a gold mine. [Hehe - do we place value on gold in the same way we place value on romance?] Simply learning about the multitudes of people out there with so many different experiences has been wonderful.

Upon reflection, I’ve also begun to wonder if I am acespec. Society is at it again - placing inherent value in certain concepts, associating expectations between categories. Specifically, the categories of romance and sexual attraction. In most movies with romantic subplots - which is a shit ton - sex seems to always be attached to the development of a romantic relationship. Here’s the thing - most people don’t think about the Split Attraction Model (SAM), which separates romantic and sexual attraction. It’s either you’re attracted to someone, or you aren’t. But for those who do use the SAM for whatever reason, romantic and sexual attraction are separate terms [though they can of course be intertwined.] I find it strange that romance sort of necessarily leads to sex - why? You don’t need sex to have a healthy relationship - but of course, many people want it and so it happens. And because sexual attraction is often tied to peoples’ romantic partners, sex is just associated with romance. [And also apparently sexual attraction can happen towards random people, which I didn’t know lmao.] The SAM is useful for many [not necessarily all] aspecs, as it creates this differentiation between wanting to date someone and wanting to, well, do the do with them. Through investigating common terms used by aspec people, I also find the terms aesthetic and sensual attraction useful, because I believe I have conflated aesthetic and sensual attraction with sexual attraction. [Also, in the past, for some reason I didn’t really know that sexual orientation referred to people that you literally wanted to have sex with. I thought it was just the people that you ‘liked’.] These specific terms have been quite useful to me personally, as I’ve realized that I really can tell the difference between the types of attraction that I experience. The issue is, I’m just not sure about my sexual attraction - have I actually experienced it, and if so, in what ways? It does get frustrating to question so much, but it’s an interesting exploration all the same.

Am I actually acespec? Maybe not. But even if I’m not, I’ve still learned a lot about acespec people, and again it’s wonderful to read about how many different experiences exist in this world. Looking back on my past has been interesting. Thinking about my present and my future is intriguing. Wondering what I am and where I’ll go is a mixed bag of emotions, but it’s here and I’m stuck with it. I think I’m probably arospec, and that discovery is honestly relieving. It feels like a weight lifted. It clicks into place. I’m just going to keep living and figuring out what the hell my sexual orientation is, and I’ll vibe with it, I guess. The general, whole, main point is: learning about these communities is an enlightening experience, and it has perhaps reshaped part of my view of society. And also, I write too much.

If you read this whole thing, I commend you for making it through my massive overshare. I hope you gained something from it, whether that be entertainment or knowledge or simple resonance with an idea.

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shookethbrooketh · 6 years ago

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stars

chapter 13

dan gritted his teeth, speaking quietly. “i don’t have the time, the energy, or the patience for you to deliberate whether or not YOU can handle a relationship. what’ll it be, phil?”

summary: dan grew up in a normal 1930s london family with his parents and little brother. everything was completely and utterly normal… until the bombs started dropping. When dan was fifteen his father went off to war, and when he was sixteen he and his brother hayden were sent off to a foster family in rural england. he looked up at the stars and couldn’t help but wonder how something that beautiful could exist in such a broken world. just when he thought things would never get better, dan met phil, and he became the shining star of his life. but when phil turned eighteen and went off to war, dan couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, the stars would twinkle the same way again.

rating: t

genre: angst, fluff, history au, strangers to lovers, teenagers

whole fic warnings: warfare (not descriptive), bombings, fire, panic attacks, ptsd, epilepsy/seizures, homophobia, death chapter warnings: epilepsy, homophobia

chapter word count: 1.0k total word count: 17.6k

read it on ao3 read it on wattpad fic masterlist

“This is awesome,” Hayden said from atop the tree branch.

“I knew you’d like it!” Dan shouted back, making his way up the tree to sit beside him. A month after Hayden’s first and only seizure, Dan felt comfortable enough to walk him up the hill and take him to the tree. “Isn’t the sunset absolutely beautiful?”

“It is. Thanks for hanging out with me. You’re the best big brother ever.”

Dan put his arm around Hayden’s shoulder and smiled. “Anything for you.”

“I love you, Danny.”

“I love you too.”

Dan’s eyes snapped open to see Phil shaking him. “Doctor.”

Dan sighed and sat up in his hospital chair. It had been a month since the first seizure, but Dan’s dream painted a much prettier picture than reality. In that past month, Hayden had suffered one mild seizure and a massive episode, leading to their latest hospital trip.

“He seems alright. Always bring him in if this happens, because it could indicate a change in his body, but this was just a random episode. You should be able to leave soon.”

Dan sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Phil asked.

“What?”

“You were smiling.”

Dan gestured towards Hayden. “Him.”

“Oh,” Phil said, seeming almost disappointed.

“Priorities, remember?” Dan said with a glare. He walked around the bed and away from Phil to wake Hayden. “Hey,” he said, shaking the boy awake. “We’re leaving soon.”

Phil sighed, efforts left unnoticed, and left the room.

Later that night, the family sat around the dinner table eating their chicken. “You know what you haven’t done in a while, Dan?” Margo said.

“Hm?”

“Gone out driving with Phil.”

“I-” Dan tried to respond, but Phil interrupted.

“I agree! We should go out tonight, eh?” he said with a grin.

“I was going to play cards with Hayden tonight,” Dan said, pretending to be disappointed.

“We can play him!” Margo exclaimed, nudging Harold.

“You’ve built up a lot of skills lately, kid. See if you can beat the master.”

“You’re on!”

All four of them looked to Dan as if they were looking for confirmation. Margo leaned in and placed her hand on his forearm. “Take a break, Dan.”

He glanced down and took a deep breath. “Fine.”

The truck engine roared its way around the field. It was the only sound of the drive, as the boys were completely and awkwardly silent. “You’ve got to talk to me eventually.”

“How many times are you going to say that?”

“However many times it takes.”

Dan exhaled and drove the truck up the hill, putting it in park. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and walked purposefully towards the tree, climbing up the trunk without looking back. He took his normal position on the thickest branch and waited to hear the crunch of grass behind him. Eventually he heard Phil approach and felt the tree begin to shake until Phil planted himself beside Dan.

Dan stared at the sun as it disappeared behind the hill, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Phil. He spoke only briefly. “Talk.”

“I like you Dan. A lot.”

“I like you too, Phil. But you definitely didn’t have the most positive reaction the first time we had this conversation,” Dan said, monotonous.

“That’s because I hate it.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“I don’t know if I can explain it. I don’t know if there’s words to describe how much I hate myself for loving you.”

“Wow. You’re quite the charmer,” Dan said, electing to count the stars emerging above his head rather than give his full attention to the conversation.

“No, it’s not you, it’s...it’s-”

“I get it,” Dan said, still refusing to look at Phil. “You don’t want to be gay.”

Phil exhaled quietly. “Exactly.”

At that point, Dan was merely annoyed. “At this point in my life, I consider myself lucky to find love. I couldn’t care less who it’s with.” Phil was about to speak, but Dan continued. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, because I don’t need love. I have Hayden, and he cares more about me than any romantic partner ever could.”

“I guess that’s a good philosophy,” Phil said, looking over at Dan. they were having conversation, but Dan was completely disconnected. “I just...I don’t know if I can deal with the judgement from other people. It’s too much for me.”

Dan closed his eyes, anger welling in his stomach. His body did a 45 degree turn to face Phil, and they made the most captivating eye contact either had ever experienced. “Phil, my father is in Nazi France trying to fight off the Germans. My mother is in London fending for herself. I don’t know if either of them are alive today, nor do I know the fates of any of my friends from London. I have an epileptic brother to care for, and I only felt comfortable leaving him alone tonight because he’s safe inside playing cards with your parents. Every time I fall under even a little bit of stress, I HEAR THE GODDAMN BLITZ!” he shouted, his voice growing stronger with each word. For a moment, silence sat in the air. Dan gritted his teeth, speaking quietly. “I don’t have the time, the energy, or the patience for you to deliberate whether or not YOU can handle a relationship. What’ll it be?”

“Dan...” he said, fear crossing his face. “I’m sorry, I just can’t-”

Dan grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. It was short, but Phil was left speechless. “What’ll it be, Phil?”

They kept to themselves for a moment, and Dan gazed up at the stars above his head. He’d admired the stars the night he thought he had truly gained Phil in his life, and he’d look at him as he mourned that relationship. “I guess you’ve made your decision.”

Suddenly Dan was wrapped into another kiss, this one lasting longer than the last. It was just long enough for the anger in Dan’s stomach to be replaced with warmth, and this time Dan was the one left pining for more. “I guess I have.”

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #stars #chapter 13 #dong and ping

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theunsentletterstoyou · 7 years ago

Text

Dear Muse:

Hi S.

I feel I owe you an explanation, as best I can, of me unintentionally being a total creep on your birthday, though feelings are always tricky to put in writing and this won’t be adequate. Hopefully this will reassure you that I never meant to make you uncomfortable in the slightest – really the very last thing I ever wanted. I feel awful and I’m (still, a month on!) really sorry. I know you said not to worry about it at all and you're probably long over it yourself, but I can’t help it! This might not help. It might make things worse. I’m a terrible judge of these things, as you can probably tell. But here goes.

I don’t fancy you. While I doubt you believe that, it should hopefully go without saying. I mean – eleven and a half year age gap?! But just to be totally clear.

But I sort of approach that feeling from two directions, which collide very uncomfortably and add up to something that from anyone else's point of view probably looks romantic.

First – ever since you were three and impressed me so much with how incredibly mature you were for your age (I'm really surprised you remembered that conversation, last month, so many years on – how on earth do you so clearly remember so long ago and being so young?), I've had the hugest squish on you – to borrow a term from Tumblr. Like a crush, only platonic. A very intense feeling of friendship and desire to be your BFF, basically. I've always really liked you. (Not "like liked", but regular liked, but then again LIKED bold italic underline and larger size, you could say). Not love, but way stronger than regular friendship; I have no idea why. I always regretted that we weren't closer friends than we were. And even after we lost touch for so long I still remembered you very fondly and wanted to be friends again. I'm just rubbish at not letting life get in the way, and suddenly months became years became almost a decade. Turns out seeing you again ended up in almost instinctively releasing all that "HELLO FRIEND :D!" in a great rush before thinking how strong that's coming on from your viewpoint. Oooooops.

Second – you are beautiful. Really unexpectedly pretty.

I don’t mean sexy. I couldn’t find you sexy if I tried. I mean (1) eleven and a half year gap, so UGH, and (2) old close friends, and (3) I first knew you when you were a little baby and vaguely remember changing your nappy once, which would rather kill that thought even if it arose. There's this thing called the Westermarck effect – where someone who has grown up with someone else or known that person as a child can never find them sexy, scientifically it prevents inbreeding – which is very much in effect here. You’re not dating material in my eyes, just not attractive like that, and never will be.

But having said that, looking so to speak with the eye of an artist rather than a lover, the way one might look at a pretty flower or a sunset or a cute kitten or something (horribly objectifying, sorry, but there isn't a better way to put it), or the way I can tell certain celebrities are handsome – David Beckham, say, or Bradley Cooper – without any romantic interest, in the general sense of the word, you are extraordinarily beautiful.

Except it’s stronger than that. The same general feeling as finding a random celebrity generally good-looking or admiring a nice landscape or painting, only up to eleven. For an even better comparison: Seeing you is like walking around on a rainy day, when everything's grey and dull, and then suddenly the rain lets up a bit and the sun shines a bit, and a really bright rainbow appears. And I can’t help but stop and stare at it, with this “wow!” sense of wonder and awe, and think of how beautiful it is. And it’s not something I could ever have any sort of relationship with or even touch – and I have no desire to, even the thought of that makes no sense at all. But the striking sudden and unexpected beauty of it sticks in the mind long after the rainbow itself vanishes, and leaves me with a lasting sense of joy. I think most people I know would react to a rainbow the same way. You’re like that. I did write a song very, very long ago (when you were 3-4) calling you “Rainbow Child” – you might have heard it back in May – it’s still so true.

But there's no real sense of love attached, except insofar as I love everyone in your family (the totally non-romantic way, just a very strong friendship almost like extended family). It's definitely not attraction in the usual sense and I have absolutely no interest in anything more than friendship ever – “oh good”, I hear you say – it’s just “this girl! She's so... well she doesn't seem to be anything in particular. But wow, look!”

You just have one of those faces – this is something I've experienced with a couple of other people – that seems to stand out from far away even in a crowd, as if you were highlighted, to the point that I ask myself “there was a crowd too?” It's literally attractive, compelling like a magnet, my eyes almost can't help but be drawn to you when you're in the same place as me, and my thoughts do the same when you're not. It’s sort of like, if you’re looking at a big painting and most of it is black and white but there’s a red circle somewhere – your eyes just immediately and consistently want to go to the red circle. And you might walk away from the painting and think about that red circle again later in the day because it’s just so visually appealing to you compared to everything around it.

Another comparison I could make was brought on by something Sinead and I were chatting about before you turned up when I popped in last month: at one point she showed me your DVD collection and we got to discussing films, and she mentioned how a clip from one film got inexplicably stuck in her mind for ages afterwards, like a sort of “visual earworm” I think was her phrase. You know the thing: it's like having a favourite song that's so nice you want to listen to it over and over on a loop as long as you can, and maybe that song's a bit catchy and gets stuck in your head, and you find yourself humming it, even when you're not listening to it. And again, you couldn't date music – but you could certainly call some tunes beautiful. I get a visual version of that with your face. Like a Vine loop, maybe. Speaking of which, your actual Vine is insanely addictive!

It reminds me of something I once read in someone's autobiography:

“One of the most vivid experiences I have ever had was sitting quietly for at least an hour before a picture by the Dutch painter Vermeer, and absorbing its sheer beauty… The room was crowded with people, but I was oblivious of them, as I was equally oblivious of the passage of time. As a result of this act of concentration the vision of this particular masterpiece is indelibly stamped on my mind which has forever been enriched by it. I know that my ordinary acts of seeing and observation have been sharpened by that experience. There was drawn from me an acknowledgement of the greatness of the artist and his painting and I caught, with awe, the light of his inspiration and creativeness. It awoke in me a desire to follow in his footsteps and create something beautiful.”

In general, the way I feel about you is the feeling one gets when looking at a beautiful painting. But more specifically, like that man with that particular painting, your face is imprinted on my memory. It's sort of formed the background to most of my other thoughts since late April. Look up Shakespeare's Sonnet 113 and you get a pretty good description (admittedly in olde language) of how I feel. Normally when I see something pretty I just think “wow pretty” for a moment and move on. I’m not sure why you stick so much! I suppose it was the combination of you being quite pretty and that being completely unexpected – at another point we were looking at the family photos on your wall and Sinead showed me an old Vine clip of hers featuring a few of them which pretty much perfectly sums everything up from my point of view – you might know it, the one where she's comparing old photos to your present-day family with increasing surprise. "Then. Now. / Then - now. / Then, now! / THEN! NOW! What's happening to the world?!" She remarked, and I wasn’t going to actually say it but agreed, that your whole face has really changed. Even between then and now too and that wasn't even too long ago! And until April, I hadn’t seen you for so long, since you were seven going on eight: still don't really have any idea how I've managed to keep in touch with your whole family but keep missing hearing from you directly for over a decade. I've always been bad at keeping up with people but that was absurd. I missed you hugely, by the way. So since then I’ve felt exactly like her in that clip, only stronger (“THEN!! / NOW!!” :O :O :O).

You probably got the idea a few comparisons ago, but I just wanted to be totally clear. Getting technical for a bit (because that's how I roll...), I find you incredibly aesthetically attractive. This is a thing that's distinct from, but usually linked to and the beginning of, attraction in the conventional sexual or romantic sense – yes, those are two distinct things. If you know, just skip the rest of this paragraph! There's sexual attraction (“I'd like to get in your pants/hugs/kisses/touching up and ultimately make babies”) which is absolutely not there AT ALL. There's romantic attraction (“I'd like to date you/buy you flowers/"long walks on the beach" etc etc and ultimately marry you”) which is also definitely not there at all. And then there's what this actually is. Aesthetic attraction, in this case disconnected from any other sort. Which is “I wouldn't like any sort of relationship with you beyond simple friendship and could do fine even without that, and have zero interest in any sort of physical contact, but WHOA, your face, I want to look at it SO MUCH, no more than look, but really look and look for as long as possible and just never stop – in an ideal world I'd like to spend time around you just watching you, from a nice respectful distance, and just... drink you in, because you're so incredibly good-looking”.

On top of this (possibly a sort of by-product, but I don't know), as I once told your sister, and you might already know and have seen some of it – every time I've ever seen you, going back years, I've come out shortly afterwards (within a week or two) with some sort of art. Sometimes music, sometimes poems (you've seen a few), sometimes a short story or two, pictures once (not of you – I can't draw people!) And it's quite good art, or so most people who've seen it reckon. Which is remarkable because otherwise I'm not artistic in the slightest. I'd be happy to show you any of it, just ask. You just... really inspire me creatively, for some reason, and that bit has actually been around practically since you were born. If I had to sum you up in a word it would be muse.

I think my point is made. I brought you a present out of simple appreciation and wanting to just… thank you for just being you, super pretty and inspiring you – no actual desire for any relationship of any sort attached. I’m leaving everything right here. It was hard to tone things right. I was going to send you a birthday card, at least, anyway. I’d do the same for Sinead just out of general friendship. I didn't sign it with my name out of the worry you'd react just the way you did. Wasn't expecting for you to answer the door right as I stuck it through your letter box though – so much for anonymity.

I know what you're thinking: if he doesn’t fancy me, then why the "someone special" and why sign the card "admirer"? Simply because anything more (in both cases) was too strong, but anything less not enough. It was hard to find a word for how I feel – for a particularly close-feeling and beautiful friend but it never quite crossing into love –and I picked and phrased the card very, very carefully. Probably not carefully enough, but I tried. (Thank goodness “someone special” is a card category, it does the job quite well.) Even “admirer” is a bit strong, but having linguistic-geek leanings, I settled on admirer for etymological (language origin) reasons: it comes from Latin ad-mirare – literally, to look at, with affection and respect. For some reason it all seemed like a good idea at the time!

That was going to be the last deliberate direct contact I ever had with you after you said you weren't comfortable with it. But I just wanted to clear things up as well as possible, so that hopefully you aren’t uncomfortable any more. I know this is the third(?) time I’ve said “you won’t hear from me again” (random encounters aside), but this time I mean it, unless you care to reply.

I hope you know now I meant well, and would never not mean well. And I hope I'm not making you uncomfortable even now. That's the very last thing I'd ever want; the thought of you creeped out feels like physical harm to me.

I hope you enjoyed the Isle of Wight! Always a pleasure to host you :)

With friendship

“Memories” – or “Thoughts on a Visual Earworm” early June 2016

I cannot forget you! Although I last saw you in April, And now it is June, in my mind I can still see your face. Both waking and sleeping, your memory fills every moment, And summer's long days seem pale shadows of Summer's sweet grace. In all idle moments, my mind jumps to thoughts and to visions Of memories of you, both old and more recent to see, And trees, houses, people – my eye ‘shapes them all to your feature’, As Shakespeare once wrote! Tell me, when will I ever be free? Will it take till the summer fades out into red-golden autumn For Summer to fade from my memory into the past? Or will even in winter each day seem as bright as the summer And might memory-glimpses of you to the New Year last?

And why am I thinking of you? I’d not seen you in ages, Since you were a child, barely thought of you most of that time, Then I saw you again for the briefest few hours – but for weeks since You’ve written yourself into poem after verse after rhyme! You’re almost a stranger to me, and so very much younger, And we barely spoke – so why should I be thinking of you, When many more people have been in my life for much longer, And meant so much more to me: family, friends, lovers true? Why over them all does your likeness seem laid every moment? Why do you inspire every word, line and note of my art? Why though we might not meet in person again for ten more years, Do I find you in each passing moment engraved on my heart?

I wish I could tell what I’m feeling for you, but can’t place it – Romantic it’s not, for the thought makes me sick to my core, Yet a joy and a wonder at thinking of you overwhelms me And a lively creativeness turning to art more and more. It links to a realisation that you are attractive: In strictest of senses – my mind turning always to you, But not in a way that says ‘her I would like for a lover’ (Thank goodness, you cry) – more ‘I’d like to spend time watching you, Then drawing and painting and singing and writing about you’: Like poetry given girl’s form, or a portrait made living, Or a song in a body, that’s how you seem to me, sweet Summer; ‘Aesthetic attraction’, that could be the term for the feeling.

You stand out in a crowd, as if highlighted under a spotlight, As if life were an image in sepia, black, white and grey, But a single bright colourful part of it grabs the attention, And remains in the memory long after looking away. Or as if, on a dull rainy day, there shines out a bright rainbow, An iris of colour so vivid that cuts through the rain And illumines the world with a halo of red, orange, yellow, Green, indigo, violet bright – and then fades out again, Yet while it is there one can’t help but to stare at its beauty, It fills all the heart with a wonder, a joy and an awe, And its image enlivens the mind with its bright shining colours, So that all of the rest of the day the world seems dull no more.

I don’t love you: you can’t love a painting, you can’t love a rainbow, Or a flower, or a sunset, but ‘beautiful’, yes, you could say, And could want to stop, stare at them, dazzled with wondrous amazement, And drink in the transcendent beauty of such things all day. And that's what you’re like, Summer, ‘Rainbow Child’ (so I once called you In a song that I took from a novel): if I had the choice And if rainbows and sunsets and beautiful you didn't vanish, I’d spend hours just watching your face, listening to your sweet voice. When we’re in the same room, your face draws my eye like a strong magnet, When we’re not, I still find that my thoughts to you keep on returning, Like a visual kind of an earworm, stuck in my memory On a loop, red-brown hair and bright eyes in my mind always burning.

Whenever I see you, I find myself turning creative, And trying to capture your beauty in colour and line, But I cannot paint, cannot draw, so it turns into music And poems and prose, to describe your sweet face so divine. (Or rather to try to describe it – my words cannot capture How you move, how you talk, how you laugh, how you smile, how you look: Ten poems would not be enough, and I'm getting the feeling One couldn't sum you up in words even in a whole book!) A ‘muse’ I would call you – a girl who inspires an artist: Indeed I’m no artist except after I have seen you, But then how it flows out, the music and poems and colours, Attempting to echo the memory of beauty so true!

I felt it when you were young too – but now stronger than ever, And far longer-lasting – a month it’s been, yet still you're here In my mind, in my eye, and on all things imprinting your likeness, A sight that with each passing moment seems ever more dear; So lovely, like art made incarnate, infusing my memory With big brown eyes, dark waves of hair, and a face from a dream, Well named, as reflecting the beauty of beautiful summer – The sun, sky, leaves, flowers in bloom; like that season you seem, Full of light, full of laughter and joy, so vivacious and vibrant, Even when summer passes, still Summer will live in you yet: Though autumn and winter tear leaves from trees, bring cold and darkness, Remembering you will bring sunshine: and I can’t forget.

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