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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

* * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger!

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at.

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black.

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me.

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios

#corpse #corpse husband #corpsehusband #husband #corpse husband fanfic #corpse simp #corpse husband fanficiton #corpse fanfiction #corpse fanfic #corpse x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x reader #x reader #reader #request #requests open

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

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Promises, Promises (Teaser)

Tom Holland x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You and Tom were childhood best friends turned lovers, and he made a promise to be with you forever. But some promises are just meant to be broken.

Warnings: angst, language, some fluff (ribs by lorde energy)

A/N: i've been working on this fic for A WHILE and I'm almost finished with it! be prepared this is gonna be a long (and sad) one but i absolutely love it, so i decided to post a little teaser bc i’m so excited about it hehe

Flashbacks are in italics

~~~~~~~~

"I got the part! Holy shit I actually got the part!" Tom throws his computer across the bed in disbelief, almost hitting you.

"Wait, like THE part? Like Spiderman?" you question excitedly.

"YES!!! Check the Marvel Instagram right now!" he crawls over to you as you whip out your phone and quickly search up the account. You scan the page to see a post captioned, "Click the link in our bio to see who the new Spider-Man is!" You quickly find the link and impatiently wait for the page to load. And then you see it, boldface print and giant letters across your phone.

The new Marvel Cinematic Universe Spider-Man will be played by: TOM HOLLAND

"HOLY SHIT TOM! You're fucking Spiderman!" you tackle him with a hug, squeezing him so tightly that he has to fight for breath. "I'm so proud of you, I knew you were gonna do big things." you smile brightly.

"We have to go tell everyone else, come on!" Tom pulls you off of him, dragging you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to give his family the big news.

The rest of the Hollands were already together in the family room, and they immediately took notice of yours and Tom's excitement as the two of you are bounding down the stairs.

Out of breath, Tom sprints to the center of the room. "Attention everyone, I have an extremely important announcement to make!" He pauses for dramatic effect, his family waiting in anticipation. "I'M GONNA BE SPIDERMAN!"

This causes an outburst of cheers and applause from his parents and brothers, each one of them getting up to hug Tom and congratulate him on this huge achievement.

Paddy piped up, "How did you get the news? Did they call you or something?"

"Um, not exactly. They posted it on their Instagram and on the Marvel website as well, wanna see?" He turns to you, "Y/N, show them your phone!"

You pull out your phone and open the screen you were just looking at, showing the Hollands the Instagram post and article.

"No way, they're totally hacked." Harry remarks, earning disapproving looks from Nikki and Dom. "if you were really gonna be the next Spiderman, they would have called you."

Before Tom has the time to argue back, his phone rings, as if on cue. Tom pulls it out of his back pocket and nervously studies the number across the screen.

"Well, what are you waiting for div, answer it!" Sam chirps impatiently.

The rest of the room is silent while Tom listens intently to the person the other line. You can't make out what they are saying, but the eventual smile on Tom's face completely gives it away.

"Yes, thank you. Thank you so much for this opportunity," he holds while the other person talks again. "Yeah, I'll be in touch, definitely. Thank you again." Tom ends the call and lets out a sigh of relief. "That was fucking Kevin Feige! I got the part! I actually am gonna be the next Spiderman!"

You and the rest of his family cheered even louder than before, enveloping him in a giant group hug.

"I say we celebrate!" Nikki announces. "How about we go out for a nice dinner?"

Tom smiles, "If I'm honest mum, as nice as that would be, I'd rather just stay in and celebrate here tonight. I like your cooking better than any fancy restaurant anyways."

"Of course honey, I'll make your favorite. We can have a nice big family dinner, how does that sound?"

"Sounds perfect mum, thank you."

She dashes into the kitchen followed by Sam, the aspiring chef of the family, while Dom, Harry, and Paddy go to dress the table.

You take this as your cue to leave, seeing as you don't want to disrupt the rest of Tom's night with his family. "I guess I should get going then," you turn to Tom, hugging him once again. "Congratulations again, I'm so proud of you Tommy." you smile as you head to grab your things before you leave.

"Nonsense! You're staying for dinner too!" Tom stops you.

"Tom, I can't, you should spend this night celebrating with your family." you try to reason with him.

"But I want you here too!" he pouts.

"And you are family!" Nikki pipes in from the kitchen, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the family.

"See, everyone wants you here Y/N, please celebrate with us?" Tom cups your face.

"Are you sure? I really don't want to-"

Nikki cuts you off, piping in once again, "Y/N, I insist you stay for dinner with us. You've been a part of this family for so long, and you know that. So please stay and celebrate with us!" she smiles.

You giggle, "Well, I guess I can't say no to that." Tom smiles, giddily engulfing you in another hug.

After a long and delicious dinner, you and Tom now lay under the stars in the treehouse in his backyard. Dom had built it for you two when you were eight years old, and it's been your special place ever since then. Obviously, it has been upgraded and redecorated since then, now that you and Tom were both eighteen, but it still takes you back to the old days when you were just carefree little kids.

You cuddle into Tom's chest, looking up at the night sky through the small window in the roof of the treehouse. "I wish we could stay here forever," you whisper.

"Me too." Tom pulls you closer, kissing your forehead.

"I don't want things to change Tommy. We're graduating in two weeks, and then you leave for America to go film. I'm so proud of you and so excited for you because I know this is like, your dream, but I really don't know what I'm gonna do without you." A small tear rolls down your cheek which doesn't go unnoticed by Tom.

He wipes the tear off your face with his thumb, cupping your chin to make you face him. "Hey, hey, look at me. Things might be changing, but that doesn't mean we have to. I'm only gonna be gone for a few months, and then I'll be back. I love you so much, and a few hundred miles is never going to change that. I will never let anything come between us, ever, okay?"

You smile softly, "You promise?"

"I promise darling. It's you and me forever. I'm never letting you go. Never in a million years." he kisses you lovingly, and you swear you could just live in this moment for the rest of eternity with him, and only him.

That was six years ago. And what Tom said was true, everything did change. You just wish everything else he had said that night was true too.

~~~~~~~~

FULL FIC COMING SOON! i hope y'all are excited :)

Tagging some cool people: @emmastarz @selfcarecap @heavenlyholland @spideyspeaches @felicityparkers @ithoughtyouweresokovian @anna-sofia @blizzardbabe @bichellejones @londonspidey @erule @holland-styles @spideybrie @annathesillyfriend @starknik22 @theliterarymess

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #soph writes

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cantteachanoldguardnewquotes · 3 years

Text

It's Too Early For This

No warnings apply

Read on AO3

"Who took the car out?" Joe asked walking into the kitchen and giving Nicky a quick good morning kiss on his forehead.

"Hmm? I'm not sure, you're the first person I've seen since I got up around seven."

"Maybe Nile and Quynh took it. I thought they were planning something last night but I figured they'd tell us before they went anywhere."

"I'm sure they'll be back soon." Nicky said.

"I doubt it." Booker said joining them in the kitchen and getting a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Look at the text Nile sent me." He showed them his phone, revealing a selfie of Nile, Andy, and Quynh outside a restaurant with the caption 'this better be worth the four hour trip.' under it.

Joe huffed. "They drove all that way and didn't even ask if I wanted to go?"

Nicky tried not to laugh at his husband's dismay but couldn't stop his amused grin. "I'm sure they meant no offense, maybe next time you can join them."

"When did they even leave? Who goes and gets food that far away? I mean they still have to drive all the way back." Booker shook his head in disbelief.

"I can see Nile and Quynh doing something like that, but Andy?" Nicky asked.

"I'm sure Quynh didn't have much trouble convincing her." Joe said with a grin.

"True." Nicky and Booker said at the same time.

"Guess I get the remote all day." Booker said.

"Not if I get it first." Joe took off for the living room with Booker close behind him yelling threats in multiple languages.

Nicky chuckled and went back to making breakfast.

(Earlier that morning)

"Andy." Andy heard Quynh call her name but it was such a faint whisper she was sure she was dreaming.

"Andy." Quynh said again this time with the lightest shake of her shoulder.

Andy sat up with a jolt. "What's wrong? Is someone... Nile? What do you need?" It was so dark out Andy didn't have a clue what time it was, only a faint glow from the hallway allowed her to see Quynh and Nile's outlines.

"Shh shh, nothing's wrong everything's fine." Quynh reassured her. "We just wanted to let you know we're leaving to get some breakfast, you're welcome to join us but you don't have to.

Andy rubbed her eyes trying to process what was going on. "Breakfast? What time is it now?"

Nile bit her lip. "It's, uh, four a.m." She said sheepishly.

Andy groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "I hate you both."

"Quynh pecked her on the lips. "No, you don't." She said with a sly grin.

Andy cracked an eye open, half her mouth quirking up in a smile. "No, I don't." She sighed looking back and forth between the two of them. "You're crazy. What's even open at this hour?"

Nile's grin somehow looked even more sheepish. "The place doesn't open till eight but that's fine cause it's four hours away and it will be open when we get there."

"You're telling me going to drive for four hours? For breakfast?" Andy asked shaking her head.

They nodded in unison, neither of them giving any indication they would change their minds.

"It's alright." Quynh gave Andy a reassuring pat. "Like we said we only wanted you to know where we are, no need to get up."

"Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Andy said, as she pulled off the covers and stood up. "Let me change and then we can go."

"Yes!" Quynh asked too loud in her excitement.

"Shhh. You'll wake the guys." Nile said bringing her finger to her lips.

"Sorry." Quynh whispered. "Really? You're not too tired?" She asked.

Andy snorted. "Yes, really, I might be mortal but I'm not an invalid. Besides, I have to see for myself if this food is worth it or if you both are going on a wild goose chase."

Quynh laughed and kissed Andy's cheek. "It will be an adventure either way!"

"I'll go start the car." Nile said with amusement.

After hours of would you rather, guess my animal, who can finish the alphabet first by collecting letters from license plates and signs, and non stop singing, Andy was finally pulling off the much anticipated exit they needed.

They all needed to go to the bathroom and Nile and Quynh were so hyped up on energy drinks Andy didn't even know how they were sitting still anymore. She'd only had two coffees the whole trip and was feeling every second of the long car ride.

"There it is!" Nile shouted poking her head between the driver and captain seat pointing in her excitement.

Andy cocked her head to the side at the sudden noise in her ear, but chuckled all the same at Nile's unbridled enthusiasm. She parked and they all got out, happy to stretch their legs and backs.

"I hope you're hungry, dear." Quynh said grabbing Andy's hand and leading her towards the door.

It was eight in the morning, but the restaurant was already busy.

Andy flipped open the menu to study it. They hadn't even told her what type of food this place served.

"So, the reason Quynh and I picked this particular restaurant is because it has a huge breakfast and if you finish it in an hour by yourself you get it for free, and we wanted to see how far we could get. Of course you can get whatever you want that's just what they're famous for." Nile explained eyeing the menu as well.

"It ends at ten so we wanted to get here early, since they can get really busy and we didn't want to wait." Quynh added.

"Well if that's what they're known for I'll give it a shot." Andy said.

"Should we choose a prize for the winner?" Quynh asked, leaning forward like she was conspiring.

"The losers each have to buy dinner for the winner, whatever meal they want." Andy suggested.

Nile laughed. "We're not going to want to look at food for a week after this."

"No, expiration date. We'll want to cash in eventually." Quynh grinned.

"Deal."

They ordered and the food just kept coming even Nile and Quynh who had read about the breakfast seemed surprised by the large portion sizes. They were served eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, waffles, fruit, hash browns, and coffee. It all looked delicious and smelled heavenly.

"You have an hour to finish if you want your name on the wall." Their server said gesturing to the far wall. It already had a few names on it but not many.

They all shared excited glances, then dug in.

"They have different flavored syrups too." Nile said happily dousing her pancakes in blueberry syrup.

"Is blueberry syrup your favorite?" Quynh asked.

"I like them all, it just depends on what I'm feeling."

"Would you like some coffee with that cream?" Andy teased as Quynh added a ton of vanilla creamer to her coffee.

"You have no room to talk, you put ketchup on your eggs." Quynh shot back grinning and handing her the bottle of ketchup.

"That's how they were intended to be eaten." Andy argued with a smirk.

Nile made a disgusted face. "No, eggs are best with cheese."

"You can still put ketchup on that and it's delicious."

Quynh and Nile shared a 'not on a million years would that taste good' look and laughed.

They ate so much they all felt like they might explode. They were forty-five minutes in and only Andy was still going strong.

Quynh was still giving it her best shot but she had slowed down a lot.

Nile was only picking at her food by now but she had finished a lot more than she thought she'd be able too.

Right before their hour was up their server came over to check on them.

Andy was just putting the last bite of waffle in her mouth.

Quynh and Nile still had some food left over unable to take another bite.

"Looks like we have a winner!" Their waitress said. "Just follow me and you can sign your name on the wall."

Nile and Quynh followed Andy over to watch.

Andy hesitated for a split second trying to decide which name to write then chose Andromache.

"Yay!" Nile cheered and clapped.

Quynh gave her a kiss and congratulated her.

"And if it's alright, we'll take your photo and keep it on the wall for a month." The waitress said.

Andy shook her head. "No pictures, but thank you."

Before Andy could reach the car Nile said. "I'll drive home."

Andy nodded, climbing into the backseat, and laid down. "Thanks, I'm not going to be able to stay awake after all that."

"We'll keep the noise down." Quynh reassured her, sitting in the front seat so Andy would have some more room, and she could keep Nile company.

"Appreciate it." Andy mumbled already drifting off.

Quynh smiled fondly, giving Andy's knee a gentle squeeze. "Sleep well." She murmured.

They started the long drive back to the safe house talking about nothing in particular, music playing softly.

"Was it worth the trip?" Nile asked Quynh.

Quynh thought about how much fun they'd had on the way down, the delicious meal, all the shared laughs, and Andy sleeping peacefully in the backseat. "I would do it again in a heartbeat."

"Me too."

#The Old Guard #Nile #Andy #Quynh #immortal wives #Joe #Nicky #Booker #fic #Twi writes sometimes

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

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Walk Me Home - Ch 10

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 1856

Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67 , and @cracksinthewalls for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 10

“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”

“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says.

“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”

She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee.

“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”

“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”

“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”

“Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”

“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?”

She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.

“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”

“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”

Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.

“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.”

Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.

“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.

“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”

“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers.

“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”

“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”

“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.

The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.

“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.”

She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.

“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”

Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”

Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”

Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”

“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.

“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.

“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”

Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.

“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.

“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy.

“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”

She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”

Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”

“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile.

“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”

...

In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.

“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long.

For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.

Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.

“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”

And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.

…

The end.

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asterekmess · 4 years

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S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

#personal #TeenWolf-Rewatch #anti-scott mccall #for safety reasons

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mackdizzy · 4 years

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Worlds longest and MOST-FEAR-INDUCING caption incoming!

So. I’m four years late to the party (but that’s ok, I’m eight years late to the fandom), but a few nights ago, through a roleplay server, a friend recommended me Pengychan’s flat dreams on ao3 (which, if you haven’t read, drop everything and do it now.) I read the entire fic in one sitting without moving an inch. Then, I re-read the entire fic. Then, I got up to get some water and process my emotions, and THEN I texted a friend, and cried.....a lot. Thankfully, she indulged me and my emotions, but she also sorta-kinda-maybe dared me to cosplay Liam the next day.

So I did!!!! I woke up at 9 AM (early for me), picked apart cosplay pieces from my storage (I stayed off the internet entirely to make sure everything I did would be 100% original), and threw it together. I took a million pictures, made a few tiktoks (DRAFTS ONLY) and—really truly—had a blast. There were a couple of things I would’ve liked to change (I tried a couple of popular Bill-variants for the one-eye look and hated them all, but if this becomes a Thing, I’ll probably wear a white out contact). (Also, you would not BELIEVE how long I spent looking for my copy of flatland before giving up and grabbing something mildly thematically appropriate instead).

Despite all that, though, I think it was a really important lesson for me, in to stop running around cosplaying only who other people want to see and make costumes for me. Keeping all of that in mind, I got up the Sheer Nerve to post the cosplay on insta, and—crazily—asked my followers to hype up the post with likes, swearing that if it did really well, I would post it here and tag pengychan.

And it did. It did, and a promise is a promise, so, uh, here. [ @pengychan ]. Please know that your writing is so amazing and has really really changed my outlook on this entire fandom for, like, forever, and I’m just super grateful it exists and all. That jazz. I might, eventually, fenagle one of my bill cosplayer friends into doing a professional shoot with me. We’ll see.

Hope you all are well during this crazy pandemic!! 💕💕💕

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doggrowth · 4 years

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What it honestly feels like to graduate in 2020

From the perspective of an incredibly sentimental/emotional person.

Important: this is not the most important thing in the world right now. There are much bigger injustices and difficulties happening. Not getting a graduation ceremony or prom is something 2020 grads will get over, but that does not mean we cannot and should not grieve the things we hoped for.

There are lots of kids out there, in high school and university, that are not upset by not getting a graduation ceremony due to the effects of the Covid pandemic. I know a lot of kids have taken this situation and have spun it positively... or they simply do not care. But I am not either of those people. I took this personally and was absolutely devastated. I have not cried uncontrollably this much since Avengers: Endgame (that’s a joke I definitely have cried more - especially when I watched Star Wars: the Last Jedi... I don’t know why). I know that people all across the world are missing out on all kinds of things: final seasons of sports, competitions, proms, and other school traditions. But I am just going to draw from my own experiences... because it’s all I have.

When I was in grade ten I made friends with a bunch of grade twelves who were in the drama club. I was anticipating watching them leave, but it was consistently comforting knowing that in two short years I would be in their place. When we finished our drama year, they cried because they were done with drama and I cried because they would be leaving. I watched as the senioritis took over and they gave in and dropped the classes they didn’t actually need. I was there with them on their last day of high school. We all ate lunch at our usual spot one last time, I gave them gifts and we took loads of pictures. I spent forth period sitting on the lawn outside the school, just talking to them. I saw them the next day as they retrieved and tried on their grad gowns in the drama room. I was the emcee at their ceremony so I watched them all nervously go up onto the stage on grad day. I got to hug them and talk to them and cry to them. I went to their grand march and we danced and cried together. I went to a party with them and then it was over.

I loved the decorations, the photos, the suits and dresses, the speeches, everything. It wasn’t unique. It was the same kind of graduation ceremony that every class gets every year. It’s a big school with nearly 300 graduates every year and it can be really impersonal. But it was also their grad and it was special for them and exciting in it’s own way.

It was also exactly what they were promised their entire lives. If you’re lucky you get an over the top pre-kindergarten graduation with the hats and food and... I don’t remember what else was done there. Most schools do a “grade eight grad” I’ve found. Our high school graduation is hinted at in small doses our entire lives (even more than graduating university which is arguably much bigger). We see cousins or siblings or friends graduate high school and it seems so far away but really cool and grown up. And some kids really don’t care about that stuff, I know my brother didn’t. But when I watched my friends two years ago I looked forward to my day. It was also going to be 300 other students days and millions across the world but everyone would celebrate the biggest thing that I’ve done in my life so far. I wanted everything that had to do with my senior year. I wanted the last few months of terrible stress and senioritis that ultimately would end up being worth it. I wanted to get to finish my last play in the drama club and get to go to the regional drama festival and win or lose, I don’t really care anymore. I wanted a day where I could dramatically walk out the door and have a chance to empty my locker. I wanted to see group pictures of people either jumping in the air saying “we did it” or just flipping off the school with the caption “good riddance” (I’ve already seen some of those but it’s just a bit different vibes lol). And, as egotistical as it sounds, I wanted a big stage and massive decorations and a dance party to bad country music because I’m from Saskatchewan and no matter how much I asked for it I probably wouldn’t have gotten them to play Mr. Blue Sky. And I wanted to get to sit in a crappy, uncomfortable, slippery blue chair on the concrete floor for three hours to watch the people I went to school with and didn’t really talk to walk across the stage as a strange playlist of country music mixed with 80s best hits played in the background. And I also would have loved a giant sign reading “2020″ to pose in front of because that’s such a cool number. Not only did I want all of that, I was promised that my entire life. Until I was suddenly told that I was not getting ANY of that.

My heart broke. It’s still breaking. I feel like I still have minuscule bits of hope that I might get a real high school grad with these people one day. And I was really having a hard time being excited about the things that my school is doing.

We have been able to get grad pictures done. They were done last week and although it was a lovely experience, I also cried for an hour after I got mine done because it just wasn’t what I wanted. As soon as I put my graduation gown on for the pictures I realized how much I didn’t want to take it off and how I badly I wished that I could walk across the stage after being handed my diploma.

Of course graduating high school is (hopefully) not the most exciting thing that is going to happen my entire life. Of course when I’m 54 I’m going to look back on my life and not be so upset about it anymore. But that really doesn’t matter. Because right now, at 18 years old, this is the biggest thing that I have done my entire life. And I know exactly what I am missing out on when it comes to celebrating that.

But... I haven’t been in therapy for five years of my life for no reason; I know how to look towards the positive in these kinds of situations. I’m super excited to get my grad pictures in the mail and to also take photos in the $300 dress my parents got me. I will get to have friends and family time where I celebrate with the people who matter the most. More graduation photos have been posted on the school’s instagram than ever. We have been able to have more personal experiences through social media. At the end of the month there will be a beautiful video put together of all of the graduates with their plans and stories and photos. It’s so much more personal. Although I would 1000% take a proper/plain/boring grad year over this, I will admit that it is nice. That once I got all my tears out, I was able to smile when my mom took me to party city to buy decorations. I am excited to see the video and, even if it doesn’t really feel like it, I did it. I did graduate. And I have a lot more to look forward to.

#class of 2020 #graduation #grad 2020

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pennylanefics · 5 years

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“What the hell did you just say?” - Ben Hardy

requested by: @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf

a/n: i usually don’t write requests when i’m writing a series, but since i only posted one part, i made an exception :) okay, so we’re going to ignore the fact that Ben is a year older in this, although he was 26 when borhap was filming, and was 28 at the time of the Oscars. i didn’t plan it well on my part, but by the time i realized, i was 2.1k words in and it was 1:30 in the morning 🙃 hope you like it!!

summary: i was wondering if you could do a Ben Hardy imagine where there is quite a big age gap between the reader and Ben, and when they are on the red carpet a reporter starts being very rude to the reader about it and like putting her on the spot but then Ben defends her after the reporter basically calls her a slag

word count: 2,983

•••

Your POV:

You and Ben had been dating for six months, and just recently announced it on social media. You loved Ben with all your heart, there was just one thing: you two were nine years apart in age. At first, it seemed a little weird, but once you got to know each other more, the difference seemed to disappear.

You met when you were eighteen and he was twenty-seven. Sure, it seemed weird, but you two clicked instantly. You were a freshman in college back in the United States, studying costume design. Because your university thought you were already an outstanding student, you had the opportunity to do be apart of the costume team for Bohemian Rhapsody. You of course took up the offer, and that’s when you met Ben. He was the actor you were assigned, so you got to know him really well, out of everyone else.

It started with shameless flirting, Ben knowing how old you were. It started out friendly, but as the months passed, you started reciprocating the flirty comments. You two were low-key about it, only being that way when no one else was around. You didn’t want to lose your job on the set, and you also didn’t want to be judged for your actions.

You turned nineteen in January, shortly after Ben turned twenty-eight, and you were starting to fall hard for him. Still, you kept quiet about your feelings. You two would spend your breaks together in his trailer, you would help him rehearse his lines and he would massage your shoulders and back, since you sometimes were hunched over a lot during your work.

The guys caught on to your small dates in his trailer, and Joe was the first one to find out about it. One day, you and Ben were rehearsing his lines. You two got caught up, and ended up kissing for a little. Joe walked in on you two, asking Ben if he wanted to get some lunch. He was shocked, to say the least, but he was supportive of it after you two explained how you felt for each other.

He asked you to be his girlfriend a year to the day you first met each other on set. He simply asked you when you were visiting him for a week in London. You were on fall break from college, so you flew out to surprise him. He was so happy you could finally spent time together again, as he had been away filming for a new movie, and you didn’t have the time or money to fly to Italy or Dubai, even if it was summer.

The first day, you were obviously jetlagged, so you spent the day sleeping in Ben’s bed, he had to do some promotional interviews for Bohemian Rhapsody, since the premiere was coming up. Thankfully, your school paid for your plane tickets to and from the premiere, and also hired you a styling team. You were beyond excited to see your name in the credits for such an amazing movie; that is, if they recognize you at all. If not, you still get to see your amazing work on the big screen.

The second day was much better, Ben had nothing to do, and you were much more rested, so you just decided to have a lazy day. You watched movies, ate takeout, and just had a great day in; it was also raining, so that kind of limited what you guys could do.

Later in the night, when you two were settled on the couch, cuddled up, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You were of course happy, but also a little reluctant to announce it. Wouldn’t it sound weird for a twenty-eight year old to be dating a nineteen year old?

So, you two decided to keep it a secret until the biggest night for the cast, the Oscars. You were a little on edge for how things would go, but Ben assured you that you didn’t have to go through with it. You wanted to, of course, but you were scared for what his fans would think, dating a girl nine years younger than him.

“(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay with this? We can keep it to ourselves a little while longer, love,” Ben asked as you two were spending time together at his place in London. You had been staying with him since a few days after Christmas, planning to spend New Years with him, as well as celebrate both of your birthdays together before you had to go back to school for your second semester as a sophomore.

“Yeah. I love you, and I want the world to know that, I’m just scared of how people are going to react, especially the press. Once they find out you’re dating someone so much younger, they’ll have a field day. Believe me, Ben, I want to, I just don’t want your reputation to get damaged or hurt because you’re dating me.” Ben sighed and pulled you into his arms, lying back on the couch that you two had been on all day.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as you tried to calm your nerves down. You sighed contently as he held you close, whispering sweet nothings every now and then.

“I don’t care what people say about us. I love you, and if they aren’t happy with us dating, then that’s their problem. I love you, (Y/N), I want you to be happy. If you aren’t okay with this, we won’t go through with it. You don’t have to walk the carpet with me, you don’t have to do interviews with me, I can ask someone to take you inside separately-” you turned your head to shut him up with a kiss.

He smiled into the kiss, knowing that, without words, you were more than happy to announce your relationship to the world.

“Can we announce it on social media first? So when we get to the red carpet, we aren’t asked if we’re a couple twenty million times?” You suggested shyly. Ben stared at you for a few seconds before nodding.

“If that’s what you want, or more comfortable with,” he said. You nodded this time, smiling softly down at him. He pulled his phone out as you laid back on his chest, watching him scroll through photos in his camera roll. He landed on one that Joe took of you two after the premiere of Bohemian Rhapsody, both of you having been goofing off in the hotel room.

“Are you sure about this?” Ben asked one last time as he typed out the caption, looking down at you before he his the post button. You nodded and took a deep breath, preparing yourself for this, shall we say, shitstorm from the press and fans.

benhardy: she was making fun of me for only wearing black to award shows #fashiondesignmajorprobs

And now here you were, getting ready for the Oscars with your boyfriend and his castmates. They were all chatting and drinking, preparing themselves before the biggest night in Hollywood. You, however, were sat alone on yours and Ben’s bed, since you couldn’t drink because you were only twenty. You stared down at your manicured fingers, which were shaking.

The feedback from some fans had been positive at first, but once they found out who you were, and how old you were, they tore into you. That also included many media outlets, reporting that Ben was “into younger women” and you were just looking for a man with money. The articles and comments were starting to get to you, despite what Ben has said about the situation; you knew he loved you, he knew you didn’t like him for his money, and that’s all that mattered.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Ben sat down next to you until he grabbed your hands in his.

“Love? Are you doing alright?” You nodded, not looking up at him.

“Look at me, babe.” You shook your head, keeping your focus on your entwined hands.

“Please,” he whispered. The strain in his voice hurt your heart, so when you did, you were shocked to see tears pooling in his eyes.

“Are you sure? I’ve been watching you for the past ten minutes, and you haven’t moved from this position.” You sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder. His arm instinctively wrapped around your shoulder, holding you close to him.

“I’m just nervous about how people are going to act. People are going to look at us strangely, every single person you’re being interviewed by is sure to make a comment about us.”

“(Y/N), I’m not going to say anything to them. If they ask, I’m refusing to answer and telling them that it’s our business and no one else’s.”

“But some might take that as the answer is true, if you refuse to answer, they assume the answer is right, and that’s why you won’t answer,that you just won’t admit it” you sighed, looking too deep into this. You trusted Ben, but you didn’t trust the media.

“Baby, listen. I honestly don’t know what to expect, but I do know that I will handle it professionally and rationally. Trust me, love.” You nodded against his shoulder and sat up to give him a kiss.

“You almost ready?” He asked, standing to go finish getting ready. You nodded again and pointed to your stylists waiting for you to get dressed in your elegant, emerald green dress.

Once everyone was ready, you slipped your gold heels on and walked over to where Ben stood, in his crisp, white tux. He smiled widely upon seeing you.

“You look absolutely beautiful, baby. I’m so lucky that you’re mine,” he said as he placed his hands on your hips, bringing you closer to him. You grinned and reached up to kiss him quickly.

“Let’s get going, love. The guys are waiting for us.” You two headed downstairs and got into the car that was waiting for you.

The entire car ride, you were shaking with nerves. Ben noticed and grabbed your hands, holding them tightly in his; he knew this helped calm you down a little. Really, any physical contact from him helped calm you down.

“We’re here. Good luck, guys!” The driver announced, putting the car in park in front of the red carpet.

And cameras. And media outlets. And fans, celebrities. Everyone important in the movie business.

“Ready?” Ben asked quietly in your ear as you stood in front of entrance to the red carpet. You took a deep breath and nodded, grabbing his hand and walking with him and the guys towards the chaos. Ben shimmied his hand away from yours and moved to place it on your waist, helping guide you through the crowd.

When you all stood in the first spot you were told, you heard your name, along with Ben’s, being called from every direction. Your heart started to race as almost everyone wanted pictures of just you two.

An assistant came over and pulled you and Ben aside, saying that after Ben was finished with group pictures and interviews, since they wanted some of just the guys, you two were to pose together for some photos. You also had to do a few interviews together. You were more more nervous than ever, you weren’t expecting all this.

So, after Ben took photos and did a couple quick interviews with the guys, he made his way over to you, where you stood next to Sara, and grabbed your hand.

“Are you one hundred percent okay with this, babe?” Ben asked one last time as you stepped closer to the carpet. You nodded and leaned in to give him one last kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips. He smirked and puckered his lips quickly for another sneaky kiss.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back.

You two were shown the same spot to stand in as Ben and the guys had just done. He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close to his side. He looked around at different cameras, trying to please everyone.

You two went down the red carpet pretty quick, maybe it was because your nerves were so high, you just blocked everything out while you posed.

A man with a microphone waved you two over to the empty spot next to him. You were reluctant, but Ben squeezes your side in a reassuring manner.

“Hello! We now have Ben Hardy, who plays Roger Taylor in Bohemian Rhapsody, and his conformed girlfriend, (Y/N)! How are you two?” He shoved the microphone towards the both of you.

“We’re great. It’s both of our first times at the Oscars, so it’s pretty amazing,” Ben said. You smiled up at him lovingly as he spoke.

Then came the conversation you were dreading.

“So, what’s it like being with a big celebrity, while just being a regular girl?” Weird way to put it.

“Uh, well, it is hard because for most of the time, he’s away, filming, but we make it work. We FaceTime, I sometimes fly out to London when I have the chance, he comes out to visit me. It’s nice.” You felt proud of your answer. Apparently so did Ben because when you looked up at him, he was proudly smiling down at you. He winked when he caught your gaze.

“And the big question everyone is wondering, what’s it like with the age difference? I mean, you’re twenty, he’s nine years older, what’s that like?” You were a little uncomfortable with it, so all you could do was shrug.

“I mean, we don’t exactly see the difference anymore. We love each other and that’s all that matters.” You high fived yourself in your mind for keeping your composure.

“Well, there must be something about you that Ben was attracted to, I mean you seem pretty dull. You must’ve been a good lay or you bring something interesting to bed, am I right?” He winked towards Ben, who was turning red with anger. You moved a little closer to Ben, now extremely uncomfortable, as Ben took care of the situation.

“What the hell did you just say?” He yelled at the man, not caring about the extensive amount of media. No one talks about you like that.

“You don’t talk about my girlfriend like that. She is intelligent, extremely creative, and an all around amazing girl. Not to mention very funny, and very beautiful. I am not gonna stand here and have a conversation with someone who thinks that I’d only be with her for sex.” Ben grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the man, away from the entire media section, and into the building. He found a spot in the far corner of the room, where no one was, and brought you into his arms.

“I’m so so sorry, love,” was all he said. You tried not to cry as to not get any makeup on his tux, but you found that impossible. You tried pulling away, telling him that you didn’t want to ruin his suit, so he let you go while he shrugged his shit coat off, and pulled you back into his chest.

“You know your dress shirt is still white?” You whimpered into his neck.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you bottling this up, I know it’s bothering you, love. I don’t care about my clothes, just please, don’t keep this in.” And that’s when you broke down. You cried into his shoulder, where you just reached, as he held you close, whispering that he loved you over and over again.

“I’m so sorry, baby We shouldn’t have done that, I knew something would happen,” he said into your ear, rubbing your back soothingly.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you whimpered out. He turned his head from resting his cheek on top of it to pressing his lips against your forehead.

“I love you,” he told you for the umpteenth time.

You were starting to calm down, his fingertips softly running up and down the exposed skin of where your dress was cut out. His warm touch, his soft kisses, and his smooth, deep voice all helped relax you and got you to stop crying.

You finally pulled away from his chest, checking the damage of his dress shirt. Surprisingly, no makeup was left behind; they must have given you waterproof mascara, and the setting spray they used must’ve been top end.

“Thank you, Ben. I love you, I know you don’t love me for sex, because we haven’t even had sex yet,” you laughed lightly, trying to lift the mood. He chuckled and nodded.

“Whenever you’re ready, love,” he told you, reaching up to wipe your tears away.

“Thanks, again. I can’t imagine my life without you. Nine years may be a lot of a difference, but both of us are mature adults. I don’t see why we can’t date. Sure, I’m still in college, but it’s not like i’m some sixteen year old, still in high school, writing dirty fanfic about you.” Ben laughed loudly, throwing his head back a little.

“I love you so much, (Y/N). I can’t even think where to begin about the things I love about you. Please don’t listen to the media, the fans, anyone.” He held your face in his hands, staring directly into your eyes. You nodded along, taking a deep breath before leaning in to kiss him.

“Now, let’s go win some awards, my rockstar,” you said, cupping his cheek with your hand. He reached up to hold your wrist in place, softly stroking your hand with his thumb.

“I’ve already got mine,” he grinned lovingly, kissing you once more before attaching his hands to your waist and leaving to find the guys.

•••

taglist: @thewinchesterchronicles @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @stfxlou

#ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #borhap #gwilym lee #joe mazzello #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #brian may #imagines #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

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sambergscott · 5 years

Text

he makes me laugh

two fics in one day?! who am i

Atlas Peralta is four months, two days and eight hours old when he laughs for the first time.

Even before they debated whether they should have children, Jake loved watching baby videos. He loved watching Sharon’s Facebook lives of Cagney and Lacey learning to walk for the first time, the eight million videos Charles would text him of Nikolaj eating weird Latvian delicacies and the videos of all his new nieces and nephews (except Mason, who vomited on Jake the first time he held him, the little jerk). His favourites were of babies laughing though. Throughout Amy’s pregnancy, Jake would watch videos of baby’s laughing to get him through the morning sickness and crying at the bank and watching his wife in pain. He couldn’t wait to make his kid laugh, sure that Baby Peralta would kick all the other YouTube babies’ diapered butts.

According to his wife’s binders detailing every month of their newborn’s first year, babies usually start laughing at around three months old which Jake disputes because (a) their baby is way better than all the other stupid babies and (b) he’s freaking hilarious and there’s no way it’s going to take him three whole months to make this kid laugh.

Mission Make Atlas Laugh is ago from pretty much day one.

He tries funny faces, title of your sex tape jokes, tickling his tiny baby feet, but nothing. Like his Grandpa Holt, Atlas has mastered the art of the poker face.

When he can’t sleep during his second week home, Jake takes him into the living room (he’s been fed and Amy deserves the rest) and they hang out on the sofa, Jake quietly watching one of John Mulaney’s Netflix specials in the background. When Atlas doesn’t even crack a smile at the “one black coffee” bit, Jake realises that getting him to laugh is going to be harder than he thought.

Inevitably, it becomes a bet between Jake and Amy as to who can make him laugh first and the whole squad gets involved.

Holt tells one of his hilarious jokes that Kevin apparently loves and is most confused when neither Jake, Amy or Atlas find it funny.

Charles thinks he might be a fan of the devil sticks, but no dice.

Rosa tries to stare him down until he breaks, except she’s the one who ends up laughing when the two month old stares straight back at her, not even a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Hitchcock and Scully aren’t involved but he doesn’t even laugh when Amy takes him to visit Jake in the precinct one day and Scully somehow spills his whole bowl of spaghetti over his vest. Hitchcock, of course, unbuttons his shirt and offers it to Scully, at which point Amy covers little Atlas’ eyes and decides to take him home because there’s no way he needs to see that.

All seven of Amy’s brothers try to no avail.

Roger tries over Facetime while Jake holds his breath, genuinely afraid his garbage dad will be the first to make his son laugh, but thankfully Atlas is as unimpressed with Roger’s regional airline-themed jokes as Jake is.

At one point, Jake considers taking him to the paediatrician because “there must be something wrong with him, Ames!”

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” Amy says defensively, holding him tighter. “We’ve just got to up our comedy game.”

“First of all, I have no need to up my game because I’m already hilarious and second, he’s kind of hurting my feelings. We’ve passed the three month mark and he still hasn’t even smiled at us. What if our son’s a sociopath, Ames?!”

She rolls her eyes at his high pitched, freaking out voice. “Our son is not a sociopath.”

“He could be,” Jake insists. “Maybe all the time we’ve spent around murderers has made their creepy energy absorb into your uterus.”

“That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” she responds, standing up. “I’m going to put him down for a nap. When I come back, you better have a glass of wine ready and not be comparing our precious baby boy to murderers.”

“Gotcha,” he grins, kissing Atlas’ head of dark, curly hair.

At four months old, things get serious. After reading his bedtime story, Jake decides to have a one-on-one guy chat with his son.

“Listen, man, you know I love you more than anything,” he starts, Atlas gripping his pinky finger, “but I’ve been waiting a long ol’ time to hear you laugh. It’s kind of really important to me. I know you’re stubborn — you get that from me and your mom — and you’re gonna hit milestones at your own rate, I just want to hear that laugh. I’m sure it will be as cute as the rest of you. And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but me and your mom are kind of competitive and we have a little bet going as to who can make you laugh first. Since she won the bet that you’d be a boy and she guessed your birthday correctly, I’d really appreciate it if you could give me this one.”

Atlas blinks back at him, giving away absolutely no indicators as to whether he’s going to help his old man out.

“Let him sleep, Peralta,” Amy whispers from the door to his nursery.

“How much of that did you hear?” He asks, putting their son back into his crib and padding over to his wife.

“The part where you tried to convince our son to conspire against me.”

He grins back at her. “Hey, you and I both know he’s a total mommy’s boy. I bet he’ll laugh at something you do tomorrow just to get back at me.”

“Come on, honey, let’s go to bed.” She grabs his hand and leads him to their bedroom, laughing when he makes a terrible sex tape joke.

“At least I can make someone in this family laugh,” he quips.

Atlas Peralta is four months, two days and eight hours old when he laughs for the first time.

Jake is at work and Amy is doing everything she can to win their bet while he’s not around. It’s when she’s scrolling through her pictures of the first four months of Atlas’ life while drinking a cup of tea that she gets an idea.

She pulls up the selfie she took in Jake’s bedroom of him with a nose ring. It’s one of her favourite pictures, was even her lockscreen at one point much to her boyfriend’s (at the time) disdain. She hopes Atlas finds it as funny as she does. She presses record on her phone because her husband would be heartbroken if he missed this moment and turns her laptop towards Atlas in his high chair.

His lips quirk ever so slightly and Amy feels like jumping for joy. Then he starts full on laughing and it’s truly the best sound she’s ever heard. She immediately texts Jake the video with a triumphant caption about winning their bet again and a million heart eyes.

Jake Facetimes her straight away, his eyes wet with tears despite sitting in the middle of a busy police precinct. “I finally got the video, babe.”

“You made our son laugh,” Amy says, equally emotional. “Like mother, like son.”

#jake x amy #b99 fics #peraltiago fics #my writing

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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 5 years

Text

Love Yourself (Chapter 27)

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: 8.8k story words: 219.6k (so far) chapter: 27/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia, eventual explicit smut, some depression genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: thank you to everyone for being the best audience i could hope for. i appreciate how patient y'all have been, how understanding you've been that i needed time time off because of Adulthood and Mental Health. i'm not feeling particularly articulate right now, but know that i love and appreciate you all. back to our regularly scheduled programming now! updates should come every 1.5 weeks-ish again :) also, a massive thanks to @auroraphilealis as always, not just for editing, but also for being a great best friend and a wonderful cheerleader. ily xx

Loud, persistent buzzing pulled Phil sharply from his sleep. It took a few sleepy seconds before he registered that the buzzing was his phone on his bedside table — and it was apparently ringing. Still half asleep, Phil waited until it stopped vibrating before reaching for it. It was too damn early to actually talk to anyone, but curiosity was still getting the best of him.

He pried an eye open and looked at the screen, instinctively flinching away from the bright light. Without his glasses, he was too blind to see who had called, but he could just barely make out the time — half past seven.

Nearly an hour before his alarm was due to go off.

That was nearly an hour of sleep that someone was trying to take from Phil. And after the whirlwind of last night’s date, Phil wanted nothing more than to sleep in. It wasn’t like Dan was here to give him a reason to get up.

With a stubborn, tired sigh, Phil rolled back into his pillow. Whoever had called could wait — at least until he was ready to get out of bed.

Just as he was drifting off again, though, his phone rang again. Grumbling, Phil pushed himself onto his elbows and held his phone close enough to his face that he could just barely make out PJ’s name.

PJ? Why was PJ calling him? PJ rarely called Phil. They skyped, sure, but those calls were usually scheduled and were always in the evening.

No, if PJ was caling at this hour, he must need something. And, unfortunately, Phil prided himself on being the Reliable Friend who always answered when his friends needed him.

Reluctantly, Phil swiped on PJ’s name, immediately putting the call on speaker so that he could fall back into his pillow.

“What the hell do you want, Peej?” Phil grumbled as soon as the phone call connected.

“Did I wake you up?”

“It’s not even eight in the morning,” Phil complained. “Of course you woke me up.”

“Mmm,” PJ hummed dismissively. “Are you with Dan?”

“No, I dropped him off after our date last night.” Phil stretched slightly, his hands reaching up under the pillow and hugging it closer to his face.

“Oh… have you, er, talked to him since?” PJ didn’t sound curious, and didn’t sound like he was trying to get information out of Phil about his date. PJ sounded… worried.

Growing concerned by PJ’s tone, Phil pushed himself back onto his elbows. “No, why? What happened?”

“I take it you haven’t been on the internet yet?”

“No. Get to the point, Peej,” Phil huffed impatiently.

“Dan — well, I thought maybe he’d’ve talked it over with you. I mean, twitter’s — fuck, how —“

“What the fuck happened?” Phil demanded, cutting off PJ’s rambling.

Even through the phone, and on speaker, Phil could hear PJ’s deep sigh, could feel his hesitation, before he finally spoke. “You need to look at Dan’s instagram. He sort of… made a big announcement in the dead of night.”

Phil felt a wave of dread wash over him. He certainly wasn’t sleepy anymore. A jumble of incoherent, panicked thoughts were battering at Phil’s brain, but he did his best to push them aside. Worrying wouldn’t do any good right now.

“Hang on, I’m pulling it up.”

Phil hit the home button on his phone with a bit more force than necessary, and was finally confronted with a frankly obscene amount of notifications given that he hadn’t done anything online since the day before yesterday, really. With a concerned huff, Phil swiped his glasses off his night table and shoved them onto his nose, the red dots on his iphone icons coming into focus.

Four hundred and twelve notifications from instagram.

One thousand, two hundred, and ninety from twitter.

Six emails in his work-only account.

And seven text messages.

Despite PJ’s urging to look at Dan’s instagram, Phil opened his messages first. There were three from PJ, which Phil ignored since Peej had clearly gotten ahold of him. Below PJ’s thread, there was a message from his mother and brother each. And finally below them were two messages from Dan.

The preview of their conversation showed that Dan’s most recent text — and we should probably talk — had come in at 3:34AM. That message alone made Phil’s heart pound against his chest.

“You there, mate?” PJ asked.

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed with a strangled gulp. “He texted me.”

“Oh?” PJ sounded interested.

Phil didn’t respond. He didn’t open the text. He didn’t breath. He didn’t do much of anything, really. He was frozen, trying to process what we should talk might mean, trying to convince himself it didn’t mean something horrible.

“Well?” PJ prompted when the silence drew on for too long. “What’d he say?”

“Right,” Phil mumbled as he forced himself to click on Dan’s message, to see what his previous message said. To see if it could make sense of whatever the fuck seemed to be happening this morning.

Phil’s eyes skimmed over his own four messages — he’d somehow blocked out the fact that he’d quadruple-texted Dan last night — before reading what Dan had said.

Dan [3:31 AM]: before you look at your twitter and instagram and whatever notifications, you should probably look at my instagram

Dan [3:34AM]: and we should probably talk

Together, the two messages did absolutely nothing to quell Phil’s anxiety. In fact, Phil’s heart was just thumping louder and more aggressively.

“He just said to look at his instagram.” Phil swallowed roughly. “And that we should talk.”

A quiet hum was PJ’s only response — another thing that didn’t help to calm the panic in Phil’s veins. Phil didn’t like the thoughts racing around his head, didn’t like that the first place his mind had gone was Isabella — and Dan getting back together with her.

Not that Phil really thought that was a risk, but still. The insecure part of his brain liked to remind him that Dan’s last partner had been a model, even if she was a bitch.

With a steeling breath, Phil tapped on the instagram icon.

It seemed to take a million and one years for the app to load, and when it finally did, it opened to a picture his brother had posted of his girlfriend.

Not helpful.

Not wanting to waste time scrolling through his feed, Phil tapped the magnifying glass. Dan’s name was at the top of his recent searches, a small “one new post” written below his username.

Quickly, but shaking with apprehension, Phil clicked on Dan’s profile.

It seemed to take forever for the page to load, but when it did, the first thing Phil saw was a picture of Dan’s scribbly handwriting, made all the more difficult to read by messy highlighting.

For a second, Phil was annoyed at the highlights, frustrated that Dan had obscured his writing even further than his nearly-illegible handwriting. But then the colors of the highlights sunk in — pink, purple, blue.

They were the bi-pride colors.

Phil knew, obviously, and he was certain Dan’s audience would know that, too.

By this point, Phil knew Dan well enough to know that Dan didn’t do anything unintentionally. Not in his music, not on social media, and not in real life. If he’d gone out of his way to highlight whatever he’d written and posted — well, the colors of the highlights were deliberate.

Phil bypassed the words in the picture and flickered down to the caption, hoping for a quick and easy explanation.

the majority of this album is being written thanks to one person. this is the song that started the whole concept of this album and i think it deserves a bit of an update after he took me out on the best first date of my life tonight. he might not have agreed with the timing of when i decided to rewrite it, though ;) xx

“Oh shit,” Phil muttered, dumbfounded, when the gravity of Dan’s caption finally sunk in.

“Yeah…” PJ murmured, his voice carefully neutral.

Phil glanced back up to the picture and scanned over Dan’s messy handwriting as fast as he could. From what Phil could tell, it looked like it was, well, about him. If the caption didn’t convince him, the let’s stop running from love and the fact that Dan confessed to rewriting something because of Phil last night…

“He came out,” Phil mumbled, unnecessarily pointing out the obvious.

“And took you with him, mate,” PJ grumbled.

Phil cocked his head to the side, his brows furrowing as he read and reread Dan’s post, trying to pinpoint what PJ was referencing. Nowhere did it mention his name or even anything identifying. The most telling piece of information was the he — but that pronoun could apply to a large portion of the world.

“How do’ya figure?” Phil asked.

“Mate, you and Dan haven’t been very subtle. Look at twitter.”

Even without opening twitter, Phil knew what PJ meant. Him and Dan had been, well, flirting for weeks now. There really wasn’t any other way to describe their online banter.

But upon skimming through his twitter notifications, Phil realized just how confident their audience was as they jumped to the albeit somewhat obvious conclusion.

Tweet after tweet had responded to Dan’s instagram post, all tagging Phil, all speculating on exactly who the he in Dan’s post could be.

And every tweet Phil saw guessed it was him.

And every tweet Phil saw was right.

“They all know anyway,” Phil mumbled flatly. He was supposed to be feeling something right now — surely he was. His boyfriend had just come out, his entire audience was — correctly — guessing that he was in a relationship with a famous singer, his own mum had probably texted him about it. And yet, Phil couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was feeling.

He just felt… surprised.

“Yeah. Are you okay with that?” PJ asked gently.

“I…” Phil tried to process all of the new new new as fast as he could. “I guess it was never that secret that I liked guys. I mean, how many times have I mentioned finding male celebrities attractive?”

“That’s true,” PJ agreed. “But I also know that hinting and confirming are two different things.”

“I mean… yeah,” Phil finally relented.

“But you didn’t know Dan was going to do this?”

“No…” Phil chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought through all of the conversations him and Dan had had about their public image. “He made it sound like he didn’t want to come out at all.”

“What changed?”

“I don’t know,” Phil responded tersely.

He should know.

“Do you think he wants people to know that you’re the guy?” PJ pushed.

“I don’t know!” Phil snapped

He really should know.

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line.“Sorry,” PJ muttered, clearing his voice before he spoke again. “What do you want?”

“I… don’t know,” Phil finished lamely.

Turns out he didn’t know much of anything.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” PJ offered softly.

“I…” Phil tried to think about it, he really did, but his mind kept coming back to why why why. At the end of their date, Dan had pulled Phil into the bloody loo to kiss goodnight, presumably because Dan hadn’t wanted the waitstaff to see, and then just a few hours later, Dan had gone and done that. “I need to talk to Dan. To know what the fuck happened.”

“That’s fair,” PJ agreed. “Can I do anything to help?”

“No, I’m just… gonna call him.” Phil pushed his glasses onto his head and roughly rubbed his face — an attempt to both wake up and alleviate some stress. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ring if you need me, okay? And let me know how it goes.”

“I will. I’ll text you later,” Phil promised. “Bye Peej.”

Needing to cancel his ten o’clock meeting with his manager, Phil opened his work email to send off some excuse, only to find that Marianne had already emailed him. Along with three people from the BBC. And every single subject line contained the name Daniel Howell.

How the hell had all of these people been up and about and reacting to social media already?

Phil ignored the multiple emails from the BBC, but opened the one from Marianne. He skimmed through the message, where she basically just pointed out what he already knew — that his audience had drawn some pretty big conclusions based on something Dan had posted. At the end of her email, she suggested they “review possible responses” during their meeting that morning.

Not fucking likely, Phil scoffed.

Quickly, Phil typed out the most adult version of sorry for the late notice, but I need to cancel our meeting because my brand-new boyfriend went off the walls in the middle of the night and I have no idea what’s happening. He didn’t bother to read it over again — now wasn’t the moment for proofreading — and immediately dialed Dan as soon as the email was sent.

The phone didn’t ring though, and instead went straight to voicemail. “Dammit Dan,” Phil mumbled in aggravation, hanging up before Dan’s voicemail could start recording.

Chewing on his lower lip, Phil thought through his options. If Dan’s phone was off, then no amount of texting or calling or facetiming would do any good. It was frustrating to have no way to contact Dan after he’d dropped such a massive bomb.

Except, well, that wasn’t quite true, was it?

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list, so theoretically Phil could just… show up. Which might be a bit of a rash move but…

But nothing.

Phil was confused and caught off guard and felt like he deserved an explanation. Despite the early hour, Phil threw off his blue and green check comforter and pushed himself out of bed with steadfast resolution.

He wanted an explanation and, goddammit he’d get an explanation.

On shaky, tired feet, Phil riffled through his drawers for suitable trousers while kicking off his emoji pajamas. No human being — especially not his fashiony, hot new boyfriend — needed to see him in those. The first somewhat acceptable option Phil’s hand landed on were a pair of rather tight joggers, but he couldn’t be arsed to care at that moment. They’d have to do.

He kicked all the way out of his embarrassing, yellow pajamas and pulled on the tight sweatpants in their place. His loose Friends shirt would have to do, because he didn’t feel like wasting the time to find a suitable replacement, and it wasn’t that awful of a shirt.

Phil’s hair was probably a right mess too, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with that either at the moment. All in all, this was definitely the least effort he’d ever put into his appearance when he knew he was going to see Dan, but he was growing impatient. Doing anything other than pulling on a jacket and shoes felt like it would waste too much time.

Even the three minute wait for the uber felt like too much time, and Phil had to refrain from just starting to walk over when he got downstairs and the car wasn’t there yet. But the car arrived before Phil could do anything rash, and Phil climbed in with only the briefest of smiles to the driver. His five star rating might take a hit, but he didn’t particularly care at that moment.

On the drive to Dan’s flat, the impatience in Phil’s stomach grew into something… more desperate. The more time he spent longing for an answer, the more he felt like he should already have one — like he should have known about what Dan was doing before he’d done it. And of course, of course, it was Dan’s decision if he wanted to come out — and hell, Phil was downright ecstatic for him — but Phil couldn’t help feeling like…

Feeling like he should have been part of the decision if Dan was going to so nearly pull Phil out of the closet, too.

Not that Phil was hiding in the closet, persay. But as PJ had pointed out, there was a big difference between hinting and confirming, and what Dan had just done was suddenly pushing Phil to confirm. And that Phil couldn’t quite wrap his head around.

He wasn’t against it. Not quite. But — fuck. He really would have liked to have been a part of the decision.

The process of getting into Dan’s building was the easiest yet, this time. All Phil had to do was tell the doorman his name and that he was there to see Dan before he was getting ushered into the lift, the seven button already pressed for him.

The ride up to Dan’s apartment felt shorter than normal — so short that Phil didn’t have time to collect his courage and figure out exactly what he wanted to say. When the doors opened to Dan’s flat, Phil hovered uncertainly in the lift, suddenly worried that it was incredibly rude to just invite himself over to Dan’s flat. Maybe Dan’s phone had gone straight to voicemail because he’d turned it off so he could sleep. Maybe Dan wasn’t ready to tell Phil about what he’d done.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. Dan had texted Phil, had told Phil to look at his instagram and had even said that they needed to talk. So it wasn’t absurd that he was here, now.

The lift doors started closing, the sudden movement pulling Phil harshly out of his spiral of anxious thoughts. Phil’s body, for once, was a step ahead of his mind, because his arm flew out to catch the door before he processed what was happening. He hurried out of the lift and into the foyer before the door could start to close again.

Dan had put Phil on his permanent visitors list. This was fine. It wasn’t insane that Phil was here right now.

Determined, Phil pushed his way further into the flat, walking quietly towards Dan’s room. He only made it as far as the lounge, though, before he ran smack into someone.

Someone much shorter than him or Dan.

“Phil?”

Surprised, Phil’s eyes scanned down and he took in the young woman standing in front of him — he certainly hadn’t been expecting anyone else to be here, and now he really was feeling like just coming over might have been a dick move.

“Louise?” he asked tentatively, nearly positive that he recognized her from Dan’s instagram and pictures he’d shown him of Darcy and her mum.

“Yes!” Louise greeted, her voice hushed. “I’m glad it’s you, when I heard the lift ding I thought —” She cut herself off, glancing back over her shoulder into the lounge. “Well, nevermind. Tea?”

“Oh, er…” Phil glanced over her head, his eyes drifting back towards Dan’s room. As much as he knew that Louise was definitely someone that he should be trying to make a good impression on, Phil really didn’t want to sit down for a cuppa right now. His mind was still reeling from the whirlwind of this morning, and he could barely think straight, much less talk coherently to a stranger.

But regardless, he knew how important Louise was to Dan — and how much Louise’s opinion mattered to him — so Phil pushed back the swirling confusion muddling his head and forced himself to smile pleasantly. “I might just look for Dan if you don’t mind.” Anxiously, Phil rubbed the back of his neck and hoped that his smile wasn’t coming out too much like a grimace.

Louise’s eyes flicked behind her. Her tense shoulders and skeptical eyes gave Phil the feeling that she wasn’t sure if him seeking Dan out was a good idea. “He’s asleep at the moment,” she said, pursing her lips and staring at Phil thoughtfully, like she was trying to figure him out. “You sure I can’t interest you in tea? He’ll probably be asleep a while.”

“I…” Phil’s eyes darted around as he searched for an excuse out of socializing. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t easily find one. He opened and closed his mouth as he desperately tried to find a polite way out of making small talk with Louise — this certainly wasn’t the first impression he wanted to make on Dan’s best friend.

“I’m not really up for tea, right now,” Phil blurted out abruptly, settling on the truth and cringing at his bluntness. Phil shifted his gaze down to his feet, unable to continue meeting her eye. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This morning’s just been a lot already, and…”

Louise sighed, and shot Phil an unsure look. Phil watched as her arms came up, and she crossed them over her chest. “Dan had a late night last night.”

“I know,” Phil admitted, anxiously shifting back and forth on his feet. “But I need to talk to him.”

“And you can wait until he wakes up,” Louise said with an air of finality, her arms still crossed in front of her.

Phil sighed and tugged on his sloppy quiff, aggravated — not quite at Louise, just more at… the situation in general. His phone felt heavy in his pocket, and he was hyper aware of all of the emails and texts that he needed to respond to.

Emails and texts that he didn’t know how to respond to because Dan hadn’t fucking talked to him.

“Look,” Phil said, keeping his voice as steady and calm as he could. “I kind of woke up to a PR nightmare this morning and —”

“Oh god, are you not out?” Louise interrupted, her eyes growing wide in panic.

“I — mostly,” Phil hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. The being out thing wasn’t exactly his main problem here. “Never in crystal clear words, but it was out there.” Phil shrugged that particular concern off. “But, like, I hadn’t told my manager — or even my mum — that I was dating Dan yet, and now they definitely both know because they aren’t idiots.” Phil gestured around wildly, his arms trying to convey how absolutely insane the situation was so that he didn’t end up shouting, despite his frustration. “I’m not sure who’s going to be more upset about not knowing. And I can’t even respond to them, because I have no idea what to say because I have no idea what the fuck happened. We haven’t even discussed if we want our relationship to be public or how to handle the media or anything!”

Phil’s arms fell to his sides, limp and useless, as his rant came to a sudden, frustrated end.

His little tantrum must have done some good, though, because Louise looked a bit more empathetic now.

“I get it,” she sighed, sounding resigned. “I’m a manager. And a mum.”

“Thanks,” Phil smiled tersely. “So then you won’t mind if I…?” he gestured vaguely over Louise’s shoulder.

Her eyes traced over him slowly, carefully appraising him. “Fine,” she relented after a minute. “Just… try not to be too hard on him, okay? I’m sure he’ll be in a touchy mood when he wakes up.” Despite her understanding words, Louise still looked wary.

Phil wondered how many stories of hot-tempered, passionate fights Louise had heard over the last year.

“I promise I won’t be a — I won’t be like Isabella,” Phil offered, hoping that the heavy, sincere weight of his voice would convince Louise that he was different.

Louise’s eyes grew wide, her jaw falling open just a hair — she looked surprised, but maybe also a bit… pleased? The tenseness in her shoulders melted — at least some — and she looked less wary. The assurance that not only he knew about Isabella, but was also determined to be different seemed to matter to Louise.

“Good. Because you’ll have me to report to if you hurt him,” Louise threatened, but there was a humorous glint in her eye and a hint of a smile ghosting her lips.

“I won’t hurt him, but that’s a deal.” Phil smiled weakly with an emphatic nod. “So is it okay if I…?” Phil pointed vaguely over Louise’s shoulder, trying to ask her to let him by as gently as possible.

Louise nodded, stepping around Phil towards the foyer. “Yeah, I’m going to nip out then. Tell Dan to text me at some point today, and be nice.”

Phil was tempted to make a sarcastic comment, but didn’t want to risk Louise’s trust. He couldn’t help feeling like he was on a very short leash as it was right now. “I promise I won’t even scream or anything, okay?”

“Good,” Louise said with a smile before heading for the lift. Just before she got to the foyer, she spun around to face Phil again. “Good luck with your mum. And manager.”

“Thanks,” Phil laughed with a genuine smile. “I think I’ll need it.”

Phil waited for the ding of the lift, wanting to make sure Louise was well gone before he sought out Dan, before gathering his courage and carrying on down the hallway. For a split second, he hesitated outside of the closed bedroom door, not completely certain that it was acceptable for him to just burst into Dan’s room and wake him up.

But the memory of the literal thousands of notifications was fresh in Phil’s head, so he pushed open the bedroom door anyway.

The bed, however, was neatly made, and there was no Dan in sight.

Weird. Louise had definitely said that Dan was still asleep. Maybe the guest bedroom?

Confused, Phil stepped backwards and turned back down the hallway, peeking his head into the next room. No Dan in that bed, either.

Phil couldn’t imagine that Dan would be in the music room, and he wasn’t sure where else to look other than the lounge. Phil made his way back, tentatively looking around the lounge entrance before entering.

Curled up on the sofa, still in his tight studded sweater from the night before, was Dan. Despite Phil’s confusion and anxiety, his heart melted. Dan’s hair — and the entire lounge, now that Phil was really looking — was a complete wreck.

There was glass on the floor, both large chunks and shattered shards, that Phil had to navigate around on his way to the sofa. The table — which Phil was accustomed to seeing in a pristine state — was covered in papers and — oh god was that the lube? — on one end. Dan’s notebook was open on the floor, surrounded by a hodge podge of markers. Phil had to bite back the urge to flip through it, to see what else Dan was working on, to pry just a little.

That wasn’t what was important right now, though. Phil turned his back on the mess and properly took in Dan’s lanky body curled up tight on the sofa.

Looking more carefully, Phil’s eyes lingered on where Dan’s trousers were riding down, a soft pale patch of stomach poking out. Dan’s hands were cradled near his face, and his phone was dangling from his fingertips. Phil hovered above Dan, rocking back and forth between his feet as he tried to decide if he really should wake Dan up.

Phil knew Dan had been up late — close to four, at least, and that was assuming he’d gone to sleep straight after texting Phil. Letting Dan sleep a little longer was definitely the nice, selfless thing to do.

But Phil was too anxious and desperate for answers to be selfless right now.

Before Phil could lose his nerve, he reached out and poked Dan’s shoulder.

The poke, however, didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Dan from his sleep. “Dan?” Phil tried, his fingers rubbing into Dan’s bicep a bit harder. “Babe? Wake up?”

“Mmmh,” Dan grumbled. Even in his sleep, Dan seemed reluctant to be roused.

“Please babe? I really need to talk to you,” Phil pleaded. He switched tactics and grabbed ahold of Dan’s shoulder, gently shaking until Dan started stirring.

“Louise?” Dan mumbled, nearly incoherent, without opening his eyes. “Wha’ d’ya want?”

“No, it’s Phil,” Phil corrected.

“Oh.” Dan’s eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting upwards to meet Phil’s.

They were red. Much redder than they normally were when Dan woke up.

The rawness of Dan’s eyes, and the way he rubbed at them, made Phil wonder just how late of a night Dan and Louise had had.

Blearily, Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, scanning the room before landing on his phone. Without saying anything else to Phil, he tapped the home button, only to sigh when it wouldn’t come on. “What time s’it?” Dan asked blearily.

“About eight thirty,” Phil guessed without actually checking a clock.

Dan nodded, his eyes drifting back to his phone. “Hang on,” he said, “Lemme plug this s’in ‘nd get some coffee.” Dan pushed up off the sofa, stretching slightly and making his sweater ride up even further. “Want some?” he asked, eyes bleary as he glanced at Phil before turning to leave.

Phil’s brows furrowed, bewildered that Dan was so casually offering him coffee.

As if nothing major had happened since they’d last seen each other.

“Wait—” Phil said as he reached out and caught Dan by the wrist, preventing him from going anywhere. “Are you not even going to acknowledge it?” he asked, annoyance starting to creep into his voice.

Dan raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

Phil blinked back rapidly, baffled by Dan’s lack of… well, anything.

“Oh come on, don’t play dumb,” Phil groaned, irritated. Dan’s eyes grew wide and he held Phil’s gaze for a fleeting moment before flickering off to the side. In the brief seconds that Dan had looked at him, Phil could see entire pools of emotions — emotions that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. There was sleepiness, but there was also worry and… something else.

Something that Phil really wished Dan would just share with him.

“Your texts? Instagram? The internet?” Phil prompted, his voice growing more and more pointed with each suggestion when Dan didn’t say anything.

Dan ran his free hand through his hair, grabbing at the ends of his curls and tugging. His eyes drifted back to Phil’s, and he stepped minutely backwards, his hand nearly coming out of Phil’s grip. “I know, I know,” Dan finally sighed, sounding defeated “I just really need some fucking coffee first. I had a long night.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had a long morning,” Phil countered; his fingers wrapped more tightly around Dan’s arm, his nails insistently digging into the soft underside of Dan’s wrist.

Dan flinched back, his hand yanking backwards out of Phil’s grip and curling protectively against his chest. “I suppose that’s my doing, then?” he asked meekly as he stared down at the space between them.

Phil shot Dan an unamused look, not that Dan was looking up to see it. A part of him was itching to reach out and force Dan to look up at him, but Dan didn’t look like he’d be okay with Phil touching him just now. “No, I normally wake up to thousands of notifications after a nice quiet day away from social media,” Phil quipped, unable to keep a sarcastic edge out of his voice.

Dan’s eyes clamped shut, and he drew in a sharp breath. His arms shifted to cross in front of his chest, his entire body crumpling in on itself. “Just… hang on,” Dan begged softly without looking at Phil. He sounded so small, so young. Guilt washed over Phil — he was responsible for making Dan look so vulnerable. “Let me get a cup of coffee. Please.”

Phil drew his hands back to his side, shoving them in the front pockets of his joggers as a silent promise that he wasn’t going to try to stop Dan. “Of course,” he nodded, trying his best to keep his voice soft and even. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

With a small shake of his head, Dan teetered away from Phil cautiously and backed out of the room without ever turning fully away. At the last second, Dan spun around, narrowly avoiding running into the doorframe as he exited the lounge.

It was an odd reaction, one that gave Phil the sense that Dan was afraid to turn his back on Phil. Self-defensive reactions like that weren’t usually natural — they were learned.

Phil swallowed thickly, suddenly wondering how deep Louise’s fears ran. Dan’s movements were shaky, guarded, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to not look over his shoulder. Not wanting to make Dan more uncomfortable, Phil trailed behind at a distance as Dan led the way.

In the kitchen, Dan went straight to start the coffee and Phil came to a rest at the opposite counter. Dan still wasn’t meeting Phil’s eyes — hell, he wasn’t even looking up — but Phil could tell that Dan knew exactly where Phil was by the wide berth he gave Phil’s spot along the counter.

The entire kettle shook when Dan filled it with water; his hands were trembling, but his jaw was set, rigid. “Coffee?” Dan murmured without glancing over.

“Sure,” Phil accepted quietly. He made an effort to keep his voice as soft and gentle as he could. “Milk —”

“And two sugars, same as your tea. I know,” Dan interrupted quietly. If something weren’t so clearly wrong with Dan’s behavior right now, Phil would have been touched that Dan knew how he took his coffee. Instead, Phil was hyper-focused on Dan’s shaky movements and watched carefully as Dan rummaged through the cupboards, finally pulling out a ceramic soup bowl that was nearly mug-like and — oh. Phil had forgotten that Dan only had one functioning mug.

Because Isabella smashed the rest. In a fight. A fight unlike any fight Phil that had ever had.

Regardless, Dan poured milk and sugar into the proper mug, adding only the smallest spoonful of sugar to the makeshift mug. That was so typical Dan — putting others first, always striving to make others happy. Phil’s lips twitched for a second, nearly quirking up into a smile at Dan’s persistent thoughtfulness.

Phil waited in silence for the kettle to boil, knowing that he wasn’t likely to get anything useful out of a sleepy Dan. Plus, he hoped that a bit of quiet — and space — would help calm whatever Dan’s fears were.

It felt like it took the coffee maker ages to brew their coffee. Phil was growing well anxious, and Dan didn’t seem to be in much of a better state. Eventually, though, Dan was pouring two cups of coffee, passing the polka dotted mug to Phil, and hugging the soup bowl close to himself.

Dan took a large gulp of his coffee, only lowering it a few centimeters when he was done. The mug was held up high, nearly obscuring his face, and his gaze was focused on the black liquid inside. Dan’s arms were tucked into his chest, and his shoulders hunched up. Again, Phil was struck by how small Dan looked.

“Well? Let’s hear it then,” Dan whispered without looking up.

“Hear what?” Phil asked, head cocked, confused.

“You’re mad at me, so let’s just… get the part where you yell at me or whatever over with.” Dan’s eyes flicked up, just barely landing on Phil, and looked back at his coffee so quickly that Phil would certainly have missed it if he wasn’t watching Dan so closely.

Phil’s heart plummeted into his stomach as Dan confirmed his dreaded speculations — all of this, all of Dan’s current behavior, had something to do with how fights had gone in the past. Phil opened and closed his mouth, sputtering stupidly like a fish as he tried to figure out what to say.

“I didn’t come over here to yell at you,” Phil tried his best to placate his boyfriend, even though he didn’t really know how. Not right now, not with this new, scared Dan.They’d only had one tiff since meeting, and then it’d blown over because Phil had dropped it. But it wasn’t a lie — no matter how desperate and confused and frustrated Phil was, yelling at Dan was never his intention.

“But you are mad,” Dan said simply, still addressing his coffee more than Phil.

“I’m not mad, I’m… in shock, I guess.” Phil blew on his coffee, stalling for time as he grappled for a way he could express his frustrations without unnecessarily startling Dan.

“Call it whatever you want, but I can tell you’re not happy with me,” Dan mumbled.

“Okay, fine,” Phil relented, swallowing his trepediations and deciding to speak his mind. “I was shocked when I woke up to thousands of messages on my social media talking about you coming out and speculating about us.” Dan nodded — a microscopic, subtle movement — but didn’t say anything, so Phil continued. “And I’ll admit that I was a bit miffed when I realized that Louise was here but you didn’t even try to contact me last night.”

“Louise is my best friend,” Dan pushed back, a hint of anger in his voice.

“And I’m your boyfriend now!” Phil insisted. “In order for a relationship to work, we have to communicate, Dan.”

“You’re not my fucking boss,” Dan barked. “I can talk to whoever the fuck I want to. And if you’ve got a problem with Louise, you can just leave now.” There was a harsh edge to Dan’s voice, but beneath it, Phil could just barely tell that it was shaking — shaking with what, he wasn’t sure. Anger, maybe. Or fear.

“I don’t have a problem with Louise,” Phil argued. “It’s just — I texted you four bloody times last night. You could have talked to me if you needed… I don’t know, help, or whatever.” Phil waved his hand in frustration as his words failed him.

Dan sat his mug down on the counter, a loud clack filling the kitchen as the ceramic made contact with the granite countertop. “Look I just spent a fucking year with someone who didn’t like Louise and hated that I went to her for stuff, and if you’re gonna be that way too, then just fuck off already,” Dan spat out harshly.

If Phil wasn’t already leaning against the opposite counter, he would have jumped back at that. As it was, his lower back dug into the counter as he recoiled from Dan’s words.

“Don’t fucking compare me to Isabella!” Phil snapped, disgust and horror holding tight in his stomach. “I don’t give a rat’s ass that you go to your best friend instead of me sometimes, but when you end up doing something that all but confirms that you and I are dating, yeah, I’d like to be a part of the decision!”

“You can’t control me Phil.” Dan’s shoulders drew up impossibly closer to his ears, his voice growing high pitched. “I can’t take the time to get written permission from you every time I want to say something about my album.”

“And I’m not asking you to!” Phil retaliated. “But couldn’t you have waited, like, a day so that I wasn’t completely blindsided by you basically outing me when I woke up this morning?”

“No,” Dan huffed, an edge of stubbornness cutting into his defiance.

“No?” Phil asked incredulously.

“No,” Dan repeated, his voice even more forceful this time. “You couldn’t have talked me out of it.”

“I wouldn’t have tried to!” Phil exclaimed before he could process what Dan had said — before he could process that Dan seemed to think that Phil would try to control him. In some ways, at least. “I get that given… your album…” Phil trailed off as he grappled for the right words, words that would capture how Dan’s album affected Phil’s life without him sounding ungrateful or overly important.

He took a deep breath before continuing. “I get that your album is going to take away some of the privacy and control over my image that I’m used to having online, and that’s fine. But couldn’t this have waited, like, a day so that we could talk about it first? And I could… I don’t know, tell my family we were properly dating first?”

Dan shook his head forcefully, his curls flopping down into his face. “You don’t understand Phil. There wasn’t time. It had to be now.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Phil huffed, his free hand lacing through his hair and pushing it further back.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Dan snapped, his arms crossing hotly in front of his chest.

“I’m sure I would if you would stop being defensive for five seconds and actually explained yourself!” The words flew out of Phil’s mouth before he realized what he was saying. They were harsh, yes, but they were true. It felt like all Dan was doing this morning was be overly contrary for no discernible reason, and he wasn’t fucking listening. Phil didn’t want to be angry right now, he really didn’t. It was just hard when Dan was acting like this.

Dan appeared to have heard that, though, if the way he flinched backwards was anything to go by.

“Excuse me?” Dan challenged. He sounded positively outraged, his tone just this side of livid. His shoulders were shaking, and Phil could see anger flaring in his eyes.

And something else, too. Something like… hurt.

Phil put his own mug down on the counter, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. This wasn’t the conversation — well, fight, at this rate — that he’d come over here to have this morning. Phil hadn’t been wanting to argue, he’d just wanted to understand.

“I’m just trying to talk to you, Dan,” Phil pleaded, his voice coming out whiny and needy “I just want to know what the hell happened last night.”

“Right,” Dan laughed bitterly. “You want to know all about the part where I almost outed you, but you don’t seem at all concerned about the part where I actually came out.”

“That was your choice!” Phil insisted, voice raised.

“No it wasn’t!” Dan bellowed back.

Phil froze, his eyes snapping up to meet Dan’s again. Dan had pushed off the counter, and crossed almost half of the kitchen. He was standing rigid, his body leaning forward, his hands in tight fists by his sides. Dan’s eyes were blown wide — he looked shocked by his own words.

Phil certainly was.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phil asked slowly, warily. Something happened last night — something big — that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, though, was why Dan hadn’t called Phil last night.

They could have talked about it. Phil could have helped.

“It means — it means —” Dan stuttered, before abruptly giving up. The tension melted out of Dan’s shoulders as he crumpled in on himself, retreating back to lean against his countertop. “It doesn’t mean anything. Can we just move on?”

“No we can’t bloody move on,” Phil huffed, his frustration growing. He’d passed impatient, passed needing answers; now, he was downright desperate. “Can you just tell me what the fuck you mean, already? What happened last night?”

Phil stared at Dan with pleading eyes, silently begging him to explain what he’d meant. For a moment, Dan just stared back at Phil. A loud silence overtook the room, neither of them saying anything else.

Finally, the tense silence was interrupted by a sharp sigh from Dan. Dan’s gaze fell from Phil’s, turning down to his own feet. An agitated hand ran through Dan’s hair, tugging on his curls.

A brief wave of relief shot through Phil, certain that he was about to get an explanation for Dan’s weird behavior. Phil pushed away from the counter, debating whether he should go to Dan, maybe tip his head up and kiss his forehead. Something small to make Dan feel more comfortable talking.

But then, Dan was crossing the kitchen in three big strides, coming to a halt right in front of Phil. Bewildered, Phil searched Dan’s face, trying to figure out what the hell Dan was doing. Dan’s eyes were wild, frantic, a panicked gleam shimmering in them. His cheeks were flushed red, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He was so, so close, so afraid.

And then he was gone.

Phil blinked rapidly, confused and unsure where Dan had disappeared to. One second he was there, and then poof he was gone.

Unsure, that was, until a sudden waft of cool air washed over his upper thighs.

Phil’s attention snapped down, finding Dan again. Dan’s hands were on Phil’s joggers — joggers that he’d managed to tug down to Phil’s knees before Phil had even realized where Dan had gone. He was still tugging, trying to wrestle them over Phil’s knees now.

“Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan, Dan,” Phil gasped, his voice coming out rushed and urgent. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil. Instead, his hands abandoned Phil’s joggers, leaving them wrapped around Phil’s bony knees, and latched onto Phil’s boxers. His hands pulled insistently, frantically — too frantic to be particularly effective, mercifully.

“Dan!” Phil implored. The shock of the situation finally wore off, and Phil finally launched into motion, his hands flying out to catch Dan’s and prying them away from his hips. His boxers were awkwardly a bit low now, but Phil didn’t risk letting go of Dan’s hands — Phil was worried that Dan would just reach back to pull them all the way over his arse. “Look at me!” Phil ordered forcefully.

Slowly, painfully, Dan’s eyes drifted up and came to rest somewhere around Phil’s neck.

Phil took a deep breath, calming himself down, before he hooked his fingers under Dan’s chin and coaxed his head the rest of the way up. “Dan, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Phil asked, careful to keep a gentle tone to his voice now that he had Dan’s attention.

“Making the fight go away,” Dan responded. His voice was small — so, so small — and he still wasn’t quite meeting Phil’s gaze.

Phil stared blankly, his eyes trailing over Dan’s scared face, as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Suddenly, Phil was assaulted with the image of Dan covered in hickeys and scratches, embarrassed and ashamed as he admitted to Phil that they were from angry sex — angry sex that came from a fight.

Phil’s jaw dropped.

It didn’t shock Phil to know that Dan and Isabella dealt with their problems through sex, but he was a bit astonished to find the effects so lasting, to realize that Dan still seemed to think that angry sex was the proper solution to an argument, even with Phil.

Phil shook his head forcefully — both in attempt to tell Dan no, and also to shake himself out of his head and into action.

“Babe,” Phil whispered. Looking down at Dan’s vulnerable, submissive stance, Phil felt his heart breaking. Desperate to make them feel like equals again, Phil sunk down to his knees, too. He let go of Dan’s wrists, reaching up to brush back his unruly curls from his face. “Blowing me isn’t going to make the fight go away,” he whispered softly..

“Oh,” Dan muttered, voice small. His eyes trailed down between them. Phil couldn’t see his expression, but his body language spoke volumes. “It’s well and truly fucked then, huh?”

Dan sounded so scared, so distraught, that Phil wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. Dan sounded like he genuinely believed that it — they — must be fucked if a blowjob wasn’t going to fix their fight.

Phil’s shock turned to horror when he saw tears leak down Dan’s face.

“Oh, baby. No, no,” Phil cooed. His hands flew from Dan’s hair to cup his cheeks, his thumbs swiping under Dan’s eyes and smearing the tears away. “No, nothing’s fucked baby.”

Slowly, Dan tilted his head up to look at Phil. “It’s — it’s not?” he hiccupped, his voice coming out higher and more crackly than normal.

“Of course not,” Phil promised, rushed and confident. His eyes were wide in horror at the very idea of them, this, their relationship, being over so soon. His brows were furrowed in confusion at the idea of Dan being concerned that this was over — that they were over. “But the way to make the fight go away is to tell me what’s going on, tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dan sniffled loudly, his eyes fluttering closed again. He was quiet for a moment, with the exception of a few residual hiccups, but then he nodded slowly, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah? You’ll talk to me this time?” Phil asked hopefully.

Dan nodded again.

“Without getting defensive?” Phil prompted, half teasing, half trying to encourage Dan to act more rationally this time.

“Yeah,” Dan agreed meekly. He fell forward, Phil’s arms wrapping around and catching him on instinct. The second Phil’s arms were around Dan, Dan burrowed into him, melting against his chest. Dan’s hands were smushed between them, crooked at an awkward angle, but Phil didn’t mind.

Silence settled between them as Dan calmed down. Slowly, gently, Phil started tracing his fingers up and down Dan’s spine, his fingers catching on the studs of Dan’s sweater.

After a moment, Dan mumbled, “Can we sit down?”

Phil pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to Dan’s forehead. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Dan minutely leaned into Phil’s lips, pushing his head into the kiss for a moment before pulling back. He pushed up to his feet, and immediately offered Phil a hand up. Dan’s gaze trailed over Phil as he climbed off the floor; Phil felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment as he remembered the state of his clothing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dan muttered, his eyes meaningfully flicking down to Phil’s half drawn joggers.

“It’s okay,” Phil murmured back softly as he stood up with Dan’s help. Phil’s spare hand flew to his joggers, pulling them back up his hips as he stood. He tried his best to swallow down his embarrassment, to make his cheeks go back to a pale white; he didn’t want to call any more attention to Dan’s rash advances than necessary. Not right now.

For the first time that morning, Phil was thankful that he’d only been able to find the tight joggers that morning — anything looser would likely have slipped straight down Phil’s thin legs and likely made the whole situation more awkward.

Dan dropped Phil’s hand to turn and collect their coffees from their respective countertops while Phil fixed his pants and joggers,. “Come on,” Dan muttered, cocking his head out of the room.

Phil obediently followed Dan out the kitchen and towards the lounge, nearly smashing into him when Dan came to a sudden halt in the middle of the hallway.

“What?” Phil asked, alarmed.

Dan spun around to face Phil. “I don’t wanna be in the lounge.” His words came out rushed, his voice high. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t mind,” Phil assured him, “But we can go wherever you want.” Phil stepped backwards, moving closer to the wall so that Dan could navigate around him and lead them somewhere else.

“I need something from in there, though,” Dan insisted; his words were vague, but his tone was determined. He thrusted their coffees at Phil without much more of an explanation. Phil grabbed the coffees in silent shock, his fingers barely wrapping around the mugs and steadying them before Dan let go.

“I’ll meet you in the bed,” Dan said with a note of finality.

Dan only made it a few paces down the hallway before he stopped and spun back around to face Phil. “If that’s okay, I mean,” he said quickly, his voice high and rushed. “It’ll be more comfortable than the music room and I swear I won’t, like, try anything again. Like, I promise I’ll talk, I’m just really tired and I —”

“Dan,” Phil interrupted gently. “The bed’s fine. Get whatever you need. I’ll be there waiting for you.”

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan au #au #coffee shop au #barista!phil #singer!dan #iminclinedtowriting #ly #love yourself

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butimasunflower-blog · 5 years

Text

Is It All A Dream? ll Part Four

“Another one...another one” - DJ Khaled

<3 Sunny

Word Count: 1476

TJ POV

TJ had spent the last few hours walking in and out of stores. Finding shops and corner and areas of town he had never seen before. By the end of today, he felt like he could walk around with a blindfold on and find any store here in town. Around three o’clock he finally decided it was time to give himself a rest. He whole body was exhausted and he needed a break. He made his way over to The Spoon to get some food and get off his feet.

Once he was inside, it was weird being there without everyone. He had gotten so used to being there with “the gang,” but they weren’t even his friend’s anymore. He didn’t have anyone anymore. He had never felt so alone, such a dark and aching feeling. The hostess asked if anyone else would be joining him, but he said he was alone.

After he ordered his food and finished it, he felt like it was safe to go home. Then he realized the school probably would’ve called his parents to let them know he missed a day of school. When he was about to check his phone, he heard the bell on the door ring. When he looked up, Buffy and Andi walked in. They didn’t see him sitting in the corner and slouched further into his seat. They were laughing and talking, acting like their usual selves. They made their way over to their favorite booth, plopping down into the seats.

TJ knew what he had to do. If he wanted to talk to Cyrus, if things were ever going to be fixed, he needed to talk to them first. There was no one way they would ever let him talk to Cy right now. TJ grabbed his bag and walked over to their booth. When he walked up, Andi saw him first. She began to shake her head, but it was too late. Buffy turned around and her face dropped. “Come on Andi, let’s get out of her.” She stood up, grabbing her bag and started heading for the door. “Please…” He said, stepping in front of her. “All I’m asking for is a minute of you time. Sixty seconds to explain myself...please.” She didn’t break eye contact with him, thinking if they was a good idea. Finally she said, “You have forty-five seconds. Go.” TJ began to talk at the speed of light. “I would have never brought Cyrus if I thought he was in any danger. I care about that boy so much, and the thought of him getting hurt, I don’t even want to think about it. We both saw him today, this is really affecting him and I want to explain myself and let him know I wouldn’t do anything to put him in harm's way. This is killing me to. Cyrus means the world to me and I just want the chance to apologize. Please Buffy...Andi, I just don’t know what to do anymore… and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your sympathy. You don’t understand awful I feel about myself.” TJ dropped his head and let it hang. He let out a sigh and finally lifted his head again. Buffy was just staring at him, but something seemed different in her eyes. He looked back at Andi, and she was nodding from behind. She gave a small smile when she got caught. “First you’re going to explain to use what actually happened and then maybe…maybe we can work something out.” Buffy made her way back to the booth and made space for him to sit next to her.

TJ began to explain the conversation he had with his friend’s before, when he first mentioned that he wanted them to meet Cyrus. He told them what he said and how Cyrus was really special to him. Buffy and Andi seemed to give each other a look he said the word “special.” “Does your friend normally bring your dad’s gun?” Buffy asked, looking skeptical. “Over the summer, when I visited his house, his dad let him shoot some fruit in their backyard. I guess that’s where the idea originally started. Then a few times when were without his dad, Reed would bring it. He said we were safe...I guess I trusted him? It was his dad’s...but looking back now, I realize how dumb that was. But I didn’t want him to bring it when Cyrus was there...I still can’t believe I put him into a situation like that.” TJ put his face in his hands, not wanting to look at the girls anymore. He felt a hand on his wrist bringing it back down. “Hey, what you did was stupid, but...I can’t speak for Buffy, but I know you’re sorry and you feel bad. I forgive you TJ.” Andi let go out his wrist and gave him a warm smile. “Keep going.” Buffy said, not seeming to be convinced. TJ turned to her this time, making sure she could see he wasn’t hiding anything from her. “I wish you could trade places with me for just a moment. Just so you could feel my heart and know how horrible and rotten I feel about this. The thought of Cyrus getting hurt…” He could feel the tears, but he wasn’t going to let it get him this time. “Buffy, I am so incredibly sorry for putting Cy in a position where any inch on his body could get hurt, I’m am being so serious.” He felt a tear escape, but he tried to wipe it as fast as he could. “Buffy, if you could find anyway to forgive me.” Buffy finally seemed to soften. Her stern face seemed to fizzle away and the real her was there. “If you ever, and I mean ever pull something like this again...you have no more chances Kippen.” Buffy finally gave him a smile and nudged their shoulders together. They began to talk normally and things seemed to be turning around. Now all he needed to do was talk to Cyrus. “Now that I think about it, I have a great idea.” Buffy said, wrapping arms around them to bring them close together.

Cyrus POV

Cyrus was certain this is what being pregnant felt like. His stomach was so full, he felt like he was going to explode. “Mom, I can’t eat one more bit. I’m pretty there is eight food babies just hanging out in my stomach right now.” He raised his voice so his mom could hear from the living room. He could hear something sizzling on the stove, and the sound of the microwave going off. “Cyrus Goodman, you promise me that you are full. Like Thanksgiving Day full?” His mom said, popping her head into the room. She was wearing an apron, covered in so many stains from years of use. “I am, but that times a million.” He stretched out his arms, just to exaggerate of stuffed he was. “Alright...I’ll put the rest away for another day. We’ll be having leftover for awhile.” She said, heading back into the kitchen.

Cyrus laid back into the couch, feeling the itis beginning to consume his body, soul and mind. He decided to take out his phone and check social media for a bit. He had a couple of notifications and skimmed through them. Then he noticed he was tagged in something. Some kids at their school had made an Instagram where random photos of kids or teachers would get posted. Most of the time it’s all fun and game, but it can be vicious. What if someone took a photo of him on the bathroom floor? Horrible thoughts began to fill mind, making him feel sick. When he opened the photo, it was a picture of him on TJ’s back and the caption was “jefferson middle school’s new favorite couple?!” Cyrus couldn’t turn his eyes away from the photo. “So TJ really did carry me…” His heart broke because all he wanted to do was thank him. TJ was still taking care of him, even though him and all his friends had blocked him out. But there he was, being his super hero.

He double tapped the picture and take a screenshot. He felt butterflies in his stomach, or maybe it was the food that was trying to settle in his stomach. He finally locked his phone and couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed his face, and then he realized. This was never going to happen, this was never going to be his reality. His eyes began to feel heavy, he laid down and closed his eyes for moment. With the mixture of a full stomach and the lack of sleep he had gotten over the past few days, sleep quickly took over.

Part Five

#is it all a dream?#part four #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #andi mack #tyrus fanfiction #tyrus fanfic #fairytales

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elliesguitarstrings · 3 years

Text

promises, promises || part one: what used to be

masterlist || series masterlist

tom holland x reader

summary: you're crying over someone you haven't seen in two years, tom is straight up depressed, your friends are trying to set you up, and sam is just trying his best to help

warnings: ANGST, language, mentions of sex, little bit of fluff, probably typos

A/N: PART ONE IS HERE!!!! i absolutely love this fic and i hope you guys love it as much as i do :)

p.s. this ended up being really long sooooo i decided to make it into a series instead lol if y'all haven't figured that out

wc: 5k

~~~~~~~~

"I got the part! Holy shit I actually got the part!" Tom throws his computer across the bed in disbelief, almost hitting you.

"Wait, like THE part? Like Spiderman?" you question excitedly.

The new Marvel Cinematic Universe Spider-Man will be played by: TOM HOLLAND

"We have to go tell everyone else, come on!" Tom pulls you off of him, dragging you out of his bedroom and down the stairs to give his family the big news.

The rest of the Hollands were already together in the family room, and they immediately took notice of yours and Tom's excitement as the two of you are bounding down the stairs.

This causes an outburst of cheers and applause from his parents and brothers, each one of them getting up to hug Tom and congratulate him on this huge achievement.

Paddy pipes up, "How did you get the news? Did they call you or something?"