colouring looked so much better before tumblr had to go and ruin it

Where You Belong (10k)

In which Baz is an overworked employee and Simon is an outrageous flirt who always runs out of printing credit. 

Hey so this is a bit of the fanfic i just put up on ao3 so yeah go on m8 give it a cheeky lil read… 

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10578753 << link to full fic on archive of our own ;););)

Simon opened the heavy door to the familiar sound of printers and typing keys; the mechanical noises created a soft, almost calm ambiance. A grin grew on Simon’s face as his eyes raked over the large office to find Baz hunched over his desk, pencil in mouth and forehead creased in frustration.

The room was large considering Simon has only seen two people in it at a time, although most of it is taken up by a string of printers that take up most of the wall next to the door. Two desks near the far wall, facing away from each other -Baz’s doing, he said that he would have stabbed Gareth’s eye out with a pencil if he had to stare at him without frequent intervals- with two monitors on each. A long countertop took up the wall opposite the door, various cupboards hooked up to the walls, a sink and a kettle because Baz persuaded all the teachers to go on strike until they were given sufficient tea making appliances in every room with a plug. He was especially proud of that particular feat, and chose to bring it up at every opportunity.

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“The paint’s supposed to go where?”

Pairing: Sam x reader
Anon request: Can you do 19 35 and 46 together with samxreader? Thanks
Summary: This is a one shot with the following sentences from the drabble game :) 19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?” / 35. “You heard me. Take. It. Off.” / 46. “Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”
Words: 1′183
Warning: None

So, this is my first time using the queue to post things and I really hope this is working, cause at the time of this post I won’t have any wifi to check my tumblr as I’m on vacation…


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rooftop words || ashton irwin

requested: No

word count: 3.2k+

synopsis: it was your thing; your little talks on ashton’s roof. it was what made you two become closer as friends. your friendship might seem odd and messy, but that’s what ashton loved about it. that’s what he loves about you. odd and messy.

a/n: just honestly felt like writing. kinda tried for like a more realistic, kind of approach to this. sorry if it is shit. gif credit goes to the rightful owners.

masterlist


Yawning as a result of a long day, I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. I should honestly get a haircut, but honestly… nah. 


The routine began to happen; throwing my keys into the little bowl by the door, grab the mail pile that is sitting next to the bowl, taking off my jacket and throwing that over a chair, searching for my name in the mail pile in my hands as I walk to the kitchen. Furrowing my eyes in concentrating, trying to find my name, I entered the kitchen not really paying any attention to my surroundings.


There she stood, leaning against the countertop, drinking what I was going to assume was either juice or water. There she stood, watching me as I unintentionally ignored her presence. I mean, I didn’t expect anyone to be home and the door was locked. 


She didn’t say anything. I guess she was playing one of her little games where she would just stand there, continuing on with her business, staying quiet to see how long it will take me to notice that I was not alone. And so it began. Her little game. 


I stood opposite her, still not realising that she was standing right in front of me. I placed mail on the counter, sighing softly. That is when I finally noticed. Two hands, much smaller than mine were resting casually on the counter with a glass half empty of water just ever so slightly showing off her reflection of her neck and underneath her chin. 


Furrowing my eyebrows, I looked up and there I saw her in the flesh. I stumbled back in surprised when she chuckled softly. “Fuck mate, took you long enough aye?” she said, taking a sip of her water. I took little notes of her appearance. 


A white shirt, an army green coloured kind of jacket. It was probably an army jacket or a parka or whatever kind of green jackets girls liked to wear. Black hair ties were on her left wrist, not sure if it was for emergencies or for an easy ‘accessory’. The colour on her nails was chipping away, either naturally or she had been picking at the polish. A bad habit of hers that apparently some of her friends would scold her for. ‘It’s bad for your nails! It ruins the nail bed! It makes your nails thinner!’ she said to me, once upon a dream. 


Her hair was in it’s natural side part and seemed to slowly gain back it’s natural texture, loosely flicking in and out at the ends, telling me that she tried to straighten her hair but ultimately couldn’t be fucked. ‘Doing my hair takes too fucken long! Like fuck bro!’ she complained to me, once upon a dream, making me laugh. ‘No like seriously, I should just shave my head. I don’t get why you want to grow your hair out. You trying to be like Kurt Cobain, aye?’ she teased. No doubt that behind the counter, she was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that I might have accidentally influenced her to wear and a pair of no-longer-white converse. 


She looked like a regular girl. She is my regular girl. 


Rolling my eyes at her comment, I regained my posture and I returned to my previous position. “How did you get in here?” I asked, giving her a friendly smile, stealing her glass of water and taking a sip of it. 


“Hey! That’s mine!” she said, watching me drink her water. “Your back door is a great way to come in and out.” she explained. “You should really get the lock checked out, someone could break in.” I raised an eyebrow at her advice. “Well fuck! Really?! Well thanks for the advice, mate.” I said sarcastically, chuckling softly. 


“You do realise that I could call the cops on you for trespassing right?” I pointed out, which made her shrug nonchalantly. 


“Ehh, you could but you won’t.” 

“Oh? But I could.” 

“Yeah but you won’t.” 

“But I could.” 

“Yeah, but you won’t.”

 “Why?” 

“Because you’re the last person on this earth to ever call the coppas on me.”


She grinned, taking her glass to finish off the water left in it, making me roll my eyes once more. “Maybe next time, be a normal person and call me before you rock up to my place, yeah?” I said. “Or how about going the front door? I hear that thing is great.” 


She furrowed her eyebrows, putting her glass in the sink. “Now why would I do that when surprise attacking you is so much more fun?” she asked, a small giggle escaping from her lips. “Jesus Christ, what am I gonna do with you?” I asked, more it being a rhetorical question than an actual one. 


She smiled at me as she shrugged her shoulders once more. A short moment of silence fell between us. She licked her lips as I just looked at her. Then she opened her mouth and asked me something that I was waiting for her to ask me. She was pretty predictable. I mean she comes over for other stuff too, but this was something I was expecting, which is why I guess… I guess I wasn’t so freaked out when I saw her in my kitchen. 


 “Roof?” 


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Drunken Anons
image

Summary: In Dan’s drunken state of mind, he decides it’s a good idea to send suggestive anons to Phil. The only problem, Dan forgot to click the anon button.

Warnings: smut, alcohol

Author’s Note: Thanks to lessinterested for submitting this prompt to phanfic, to twzntyonepilots for the amazing edit that helped inspire this fic, and a big thanks to emejig16 for sending me encouragements when I doubted my writing abilities.

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fic: bad handwriting

title: bad handwriting

warnings: none :)

word count: 1371

description: Dan tells his flatmate how he feels about him through a love note, but it’s not incredibly legible. Taken from a prompt @otpprompts

Dan’s hands were trembling with fear as the ballpoint pen glided shakily across the pastel stationery. Though Dan was terrified and he was making the words up as he went, the note he was writing was still sweet and sincere.

Dan had gotten home from a day of Christmas shopping and had spontaneously decided to tell his flatmate how he really felt about him.

He had kept these feelings hidden for years – or at least, he had attempted. Of course, those tumblr shippers always seemed to catch him in what they referred to as “Heart-eyes-Howell”, and while the two had never discussed it directly, Dan was sure Phil had viewed at least a few examples of it.

Dan couldn’t help it. Whenever he looked at Phil he found himself transfixed and paralysed. He loved how he often found himself drowning in Phil’s ocean-coloured eyes, he loved how his features made him handsome but adorable, and he loved how incredibly kind and sweet Phil was.

Dan tried to express these feelings the best he could on the note, but what was written down was minuscule to what he actually felt.

Oh well, Dan thought as he exhaled. That’ll do for now.

Phil was still out shopping, and Dan was supposed to leave for his mother’s house in an hour and he would stay there for a week. They had already gotten through the long and awkward goodbye; this was to be the longest they would be away from each other in years.

Dan had decided to leave the love note behind and then leave, giving him an entire week to collect his feelings before facing his best friend in person.

He folded up the note, not caring when the fold was asymmetrical.

Dan would leave it on Phil’s bed. No, the coffee table. No – he would leave it taped to the wall in front of the front door, so it would be the first thing Phil would see when walking into the flat.

Still trembling, Dan ran down the stairs, determined to release the nervous energy that had been burning inside him for hours.

He was really going to do this. It was possibly the most important decision of his life, and he knew nothing was going to be the same ever again.

He sloppily taped the note onto the wall in front of the door and took a moment to admire it. The pastel stationery may have not been the best choice, Dan realised as he stared at the tacky floral print around the edges. Whatever, he thought, turning away. What was done was done.

Dan speed-walked up the stairs, panting from exhaustion but not stopping for a moment.

When he reached his room, he plopped himself down on his bed, trying his best to brush off the anxiety.

Dan’s packed suitcase rested in the corner, waiting patiently for him to leave for his mother’s home. Not being able to sit still for even a few seconds, Dan stood up on his still limp legs and lifted the suitcase from the floor. He unzipped it, doing the best he could to make a mental checklist of all the things he needed for the week.

It was pointless. Dan couldn’t focus on anything. He exhaled as he began to zip the suitcase back up again.

“Dan?” A familiar voice came from the lounge.

Dan felt his heart catch in his throat, pounding with every shaky breath. Phil wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He was supposed to be out shopping for another hour or two. Dan was supposed to be long gone by the time Phil even got here.

No doubt had he read the note. Dan hated himself. He had ruined everything already. It hadn’t even been ten minutes. Maybe he could pretend that he had already left.

“Dan, I know you’re up there. Come here,” Phil said, giggling slightly.

Dan tried to cover up the fear in his voice as he replied. “C-coming.” His voice cracked.

He stumbled into the lounge and found Phil sat on the sofa holding the letter.

“What’s this?” Phil asked.

Dan found himself unable to produce any noise with his mouth.

“Like…like a grocery list or something?”

He was joking. He had to be, right?

“Wh-” Dan swallowed the rest of the sentence.

“Was there like an earthquake or something in here?”

“What do you mean?

“I can’t read this to save my life, Dan.” Phil chuckled.

Dan felt a bit of his panic beginning to subside, but not completely. Phil didn’t know. Not yet.

Phil offered Dan the note. “What does it say?”

“Uh–” Dan could lie. He knew perfectly that he could make up some story about why he had left the note in the first place. But…if he didn’t do this now, when else would be right? “O-okay.”

Dan quickly tore the note from Phil’s hand, careful not to show his flatmate that he was terrified out of his mind.

“P-Phil,” Dan began, stuttering. So much for a smooth beginning. “‘By the time you read this, I will be at my mother’s house, so I feel that now is a better time than ever to write this nose.’”

Phil eyed Dan with – was that amusement?

“Note. Note,” Dan clarified. He was having a rough time enough reading his own handwriting.

“‘I’ve known you for a long time. And I’ve been keeping something from you for a while.’”

The amusement on Phil’s face faded to confusion and concern.

“‘I’m sorry if you hate me after this, Phil.’” Dan wanted to look at Phil as he said the words, but couldn’t bring himself to, even though he wasn’t really reading from the note anymore. “I-”

Phil waited patiently.

“I love you.” Dan looked up to meet Phil’s gaze, but quickly turned away, his face growing hot.

Phil’s face was unreadable.

“I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you,” Dan continued, still avoiding eye contact. “But recently it’s become more and more difficult to contain. I don’t know what-” Dan swallowed. “I don’t know what will happen now, but I just wanted to get this off my chest.”

Dan looked into Phil’s blue eyes, and felt himself getting lost in them again. Phil’s face was completely emotionless, except for a bit of pity.

“I’m sorry,” Dan apologised, sinking into the armchair behind him. “I’m such an idiot,” he mumbled. He felt tears beginning to leak.

Phil didn’t feel the same way, Dan concluded. Of course he didn’t. Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but now he regretted ever opening up. Things wouldn’t ever be the same again, and they had to live with each other and make videos for a long time…

Dan’s thoughts were interrupted as he felt Phil’s hands grab his cheeks gently.

Phil said nothing as Dan looked up at him, staring into his eyes. Phil’s eyes were full of light and kindness and love.

Without a word, Phil pressed his lips onto Dan’s. Despite the fact that Phil’s mouth was cold from the December air outside, Dan melted into the kiss and felt warmth growing inside of him. Phil’s lips were commanding and dominant, but still gentle and kind. Dan loved it. He loved him.

Dan stopped only to take small breaths, and then continued to kiss him. With each breakaway, Dan felt himself growing greedier and Phil kissed back even more aggressively.

Soon, Phil had pinned Dan to the back of the armchair, hungrily kissing him until the two were out of breath and glistening with perspiration. Although Phil seemed content, he didn’t protest when Dan swapped positions with him and began to take the lead instead.

When the couple finally separated, Dan didn’t want to say anything, and Phil didn’t ask questions.    

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan, holding him close as if he never wanted to let him go.

Dan curled up into Phil’s arms, resting his head on Phil’s chest.

“The feeling is mutual, Dan Howell.” Phil whispered as Dan closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful sleep. “I love you.”    

Here, in Phil’s arms, is where Dan wanted to stay forever. He felt safe. He felt protected.

He felt loved.