leaving voicemails are the worst

A Silly Meme For Sucky Days

Does your muse have an embarrassing favorite movie?
A memory that will turn your muse’s face royally red?
Has your muse ever cyber stalked someone, (& were they caught)?
Did your muse ever leave someone a drunken voicemail?
What is the worst texting slip up your muse has ever experienced?
What is your muse deathly afraid of?
What music does your muse listen to on an (emotionally) rainy day?
$ Has your muse ever spent too much money on something stupid?
Has your muse ever told a ridiculous lie to keep the peace?
Has your muse ever built a snowman? (Was it ‘traditional’, or ‘unique’?)
If asked, what would your muse think is their defining quality to others?
If your muse got kicked out of a country, what would it be for?
What is your muse’s go to excuse for being late?
☼ / ❅ Does your muse prefer sunbathing, or bundling up for winter?
If your muse could live forever, what would they ideally do?
    (If they’re already immortal, what would they do if they started over?)

What makes your muse smile at their phone like a dork?
❝❞ What would your muse’s cheesy yearbook quote be?

sweet blue

a very fluffy lovely dad dan piece. I liked it, may be a bit short but I didn’t want to drag it out. thank you for the request ‘dad dan dad dan’ I loved it. 

if you like this and want to read more of what I write check out the rest of my blog, I have a lot of writing of all types dotted about. or if you specifically came for bastille (more so dan smith as I haven’t written any about the other guys yet(!)) search ‘bastille’ on my blog and you should find them there :) enjoy!


Opening my heavy eyes I immediately feel the all too familiar exhaustion return to every fibre of me. My ears perk up but there’s no noise, no cries or whimpers. Instead it is a worrying silence echoing through the rooms. 

With one swift movement I’m upright and alert. Ignoring the slight haziness of the dark sky peeping through our blinds I wander out of the room, my eyes darting back and forth before I walk into his room. As I near the cot my heart beats too quickly, even faster than it did when I got my first contraction. Glancing down with an uneasy smile my face drops, he’s not in his cot. 

I can feel tears building up in my eyes as I dart back into our room for my phone, dialing his number as I hurry downstairs. The ringing continues and goes straight to voicemail, this of all things is the worst to leave on voicemail. Panicked and unable to calm down I mutter, “Hey Dan please answer thank you.” Hanging up I hear some movement coming from the back room. 

Slowly I walk through to the kitchen, picking up the frying pan with care to be quiet. Holding it up high I walk through to the backroom where it is enclosed in darkness. “Whoever you are, know that I’ve called the police.” I speak with anger to conceal my fear, I’m sure that they can hear my heartbeat from there as it thumps heavily in my chest. 

A small movement from whoever it is and the lamp is turned on. In a split second I feel every emotion available on the spectrum. Letting out a sigh of relief I wipe away the tears as I see Dan holding our little boy in his arms. “I got home half an hour ago. Thought it would be a pleasant surprise but,” He motions to the frying pan in my hand. “obviously not.” Swaying him side to side in his arms his eyes remain shut, mouth ajar and his little hands curling into each other. “A frying pan?” He mutters to me and I take the seat next to him, careful to not wake him up. 

“You’ve seen Tangled. Don’t worry I didn’t call the police.” He nodded in response with a small smile etched into his face. “How long are you home for?” I ask with my voice lacking hope. I’m always worried when he’s home, how long he’ll be here or the amount of time he gets to spend with Leo. 

He glances over to me and I instantly reflect the feelings his face portrays. Pure exhaustion, the need for comfort at home, to have time as a family rather than have calls or face times when we can. “About a week.” I give him a small smile in response, it’s more than we’ve had before. “Right now I just want to enjoy this, us as a family.” Resting my head against his shoulders my eyes burn with exhaustion. 

“Why don’t you sing to him, I know he loves it.” I suggest as he begins to squirm, his little fingers moving and legs stretching yet his eyes remain shut. Stroking the top of his head Dan keeps him still as he sits upright. 

He smiles down to him, unable to do anything else when he looks at Leo who is truly a mini him. We both know it, he has my nose and lips along with a few freckles spotted amongst his baby acne. A gentle cough to clear his throat and it changes suddenly, “Oh I feel overjoyed.” Delicate light harmony that fills the room in an instant. 

Leo fiddles in his arms and he turns to face me, concern heavy in his eyes. I shake my head and encourage him instead, “You’ve got this.” I place my hand on his, seeing my wedding ring shine in the morning darkness. 

“When you listen to my words.” Leo begins to fidget more but his eyes open wide, the intense blue of pure innocence and fascination about the world, just like his dad. He sings a few more lines so effortlessly as Leo’s eyes bore into his, the connection between the two of them cannot be replaced by anything.

As the song comes to an end I can see Leo drifting off back to sleep, his eyes closing for just a bit longer as Dan holds the last note. “You’re a great Dad, Dan.” Kissing him then Leo’s little forehead and the tuft of blonde hair we both head upstairs, humming the song for Leo. 

Placing him in his cot we walk back into our room, getting into bed and I wrap my arms around him. The three of us, a little family together again as if nothing’s changed. How do I tell him about baby number 2?