can you give me some shyan friends to lovers headcanons i love ur writing and i’m starving
(formatting kinda made it long so im putting it under the cut)
ok so like:
it starts with casual touching. hands that linger at elbows, arms pressed together when sitting down. thighs against each other when eating. fingers brushing past each other when handing each other things.
PILLOW TALK on nights both of them can’t sleep. when ryan is too scared and shane can’t stand watching him panic. they kinda find out everything about each other here. impromptu heart-to-hearts seem to be their thing. just laying side by side, heads bowed together, talking in little whispers, laughter a small puff of breath.
this is probably where shane finds out that he really, really likes making ryan laugh.
they just kinda… fall into each other, you know? they have the show, they have their work. they show up for other videos, they write scripts for some. sometimes, they go eat lunch together. they just… click.
A/N Fic on random bedroom-ness. Somewhere around Millennium Unbetaed. Don’t blame no one but me.
“Mulder, I’ve got all the notes on the Simmons file; I just-“
she tosses her coat on the couch. An
“I just need to run through the ME’s office tomorrow morning-“
her shoes follow. What the fuck? When had they gotten this comfortable?
“Scully, yeah I heard…”
And why is his apprehension amplifying?
“But I really think we can pop him tomorrow, if we want to,”
there goes the jacket.
Why is he going through what he has stocked in his
fridge? Pickles. Mayo.
Mayo? God, he
definitely doesn’t have mayo back there.
He has to interrupt her.
She’d headed for his room and why, for god’s sake, he doesn’t know but
he’s got to stop her. “Scully!”
“Catch!” he lobs the basketball at her and thank god she has
reflexes or that shit would have broken her nose.
“Jesus Mulder!” She
turns. Suspicious. Basketball in hand.
Fucking women’s intuition…
“You’re… what the hell are you hiding in there, Mulder? You toss a dead hooker in the room while I
He laughs like he’s game, but he’s pale and his blood
resides near his calves.
She cracks his door. “You’ve…
you’ve got a bedroom.”
“Uh… yeah.” He still
“It’s nice, Mulder!”
His blood begins to redirect back to his head from his feet.
He’s followed her and his arm and head rest up against the
“So uh…” she shuffles and she fucking blushes and he wants
to die. “Why all the changes?”
“Repeat business?” He
thunks his head against the door frame.
He’s a fucking idiot. “Um. Hoping.
Hoping for repeat business.
Starting a business in fact. Not
a business, a start-up. A bid on the
stocks. I would even take a-“
She’s as close as she’s ever been, he feels. Finger on his lips.
She kisses him as softly and as chaste as he did her, on the
“Shut up, Mulder. Case
file and a six pack. Guaranteed to woo a
girl. Much more than a slatted head
board and a mirror on the ceiling.” She’s
shoes and jacket back on just as quick as off, still holding the basketball.
She right handed dribbles her way to his door. She’s not a good ball player, but she can
shoot a free throw. On her way out, she
tosses the ball without looking back. “Tomorrow,
Mulder. I expect good take-out.”
He slouches in his doorway as she walks to the
elevator. He’s not a hundred percent
sure she realizes he’s watching until she tosses herself against the elevator
frame, waiting on the car. She’s not
half as confident as she looks.
“Only your repeat business, Scully,” he tosses. And smiles.
Because before he turns to lock his door, he sees her straighten, regain
that brazenness – her faith restored.
He scuffs his way back to his sofa. And thinks to himself.
You sat me down, careful to not be too touchy or hold my hand with yours for too long. You couldn’t look into my eyes, you looked at your shoes, the ceiling, the world outside the small cafe through the window, everywhere except me. “It’s not you, it’s me,” you said. You held your breath, your jaw clenched as you finally met my gaze. “Ok,” I finally let out. And it was over. All I could say to you in that moment was ok. But what I wanted to say is, you’re right. It is you, it’s not me. It’s you whose at loss, it’s you who is too blind to see what you have until it’s gone. It’s you who will have sleepless nights and it’s you who will push back the tears with a shot glass. I’ll be okay, I’ll move on and I’ll find someone whose worth loving, someone who loves me. While I’m out there living you’ll be drowning in your own misery. Because right here, in the cafe on the corner we’ve come to love, you’re the one whose doing the heartbreaking, but it’s not my heart that’s breaking, it’s yours. It’s you, not me.
“Draco,” an almost hesitant knock came at his door.
“Come in,” Draco’s voice sounded unnaturally low and scratchy in contrast to his mother’s smooth tones.
The ornate oak clicked open softly and he was greeted with the image of a teary-eyed Narcissa, who was so obviously trying to pull herself together for the sake of her son. Draco pushed his covers back and stood up, summoning all of the shrapnels of dignity he had left and using them to build the illusion of a strong exterior
“Mother,“ Draco whispered.
That was all it took. Narcissa was across the room in a second. She took Draco in her arms and, although he was bigger than her now, squeezed him as though she could shrink him small enough to fit in her pocket. Hide him away from what few dreadful things he had yet been forced to face.
Draco felt his mother start to draw back and fought to suppress a whimper. He studied her face and watched as she composed her strong, aristocratic features into the usual Malfoy mask that occupied them.
Draco reached a pale hand up and wiped a stray tear from his mother’s face.
“I’m okay,” he assured her. Or maybe he was assuring himself. Or maybe he was assuring both of them. Draco didn’t believe it, and he doubted his mother did either.
She didn’t answer, but nodded her head and set her lips in a grim line.
Narcissa fussed with her son’s fair hair and Draco frowned but made no move to stop her. “You’re wanted in your father’s study within the hour.”
Draco sucked in a breath of air and nodded his head in a single jerky motion.
Everyone communicated in nods and vague hand gestures lately. It was almost as though they were scared of using their voices too much. Which was oddly ironic, considering how they had all ended up here. Voicing opinions no one else wanted.
His mother exited the room and Draco - with a shaky exhale - made his way to the bathroom that was connected to his spacious bedroom. He stripped down with only a few seconds hesitation, still uneasy after an unfortunate incident with the wolf, Fenrir Greyback. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had called the obscenely large werewolf into some sort of emergency meeting before Draco had seriously injured him. Or been seriously injured.
As he showered, he wondered idly if this was how the Gryffindors had felt back in third year when Sirius Black had been on the loose. Nervous in their own house because of a lunatic hunting down the Chosen One. Hunting down Potter.
It was with a heavy heart that Draco stepped out of the shower and dressed. Nothing too fancy, this could hardly be considered a special occasion.
Draco wasn’t stupid, he was well aware of the reasoning behind his requested presence.
Requested. Draco scoffed ever so slightly at the word. As if he had a choice. If he didn’t show, he - and his mother - would be killed.
If he did show… he’d be punished. For his failure, and his father’s.
Deep breath. Sharp exhale. Draco put his hand on the doorknob to his father’s study. His eyes slid shut as he braced himself to open the door and face whatever was waiting for him on the other side.
Draco felt a delicate hand rest on his left shoulder lightly and he turned his head to meet his mother’s blue eyes. They held love and hints of reassurance, but Narcissa’s eyes had always been a direct window to her emotions, a trait she had unwillingly passed along to her son, and now they held barely concealed fear. Fear for the fate of the son she had raised. Fear for the boy who had no choice.
“Do you know-” Draco was cut off by the hesitant yet rough shaking of his mother’s head.
Grey eyes met blue one last time before Draco opened the door to his father’s study and stepped inside.
The tense atmosphere in the room prickled at Draco’s skin. His father refused to even look in Draco’s direction from his place in a chair in the edge of the room. On the flip side, his Auntie Bella looked positively ecstatic, smiling maniacally as the occasional giggle - which sounded suspiciously like a cackle - escaped her thin lips.
Lord Voldemort sat at the wooden desk in the centre of the room, stiffly perched in the same chair Draco’s father had sat in so many times before. There was something malicious glistening in his eyes. Though, that could just be one of the side effects of having red eyes. (Seriously, what muggle movie villain must the Dark Lord have based himself off of?)
The Dark Lord had always been intimidating but something was different this time.
“My Lord,” Draco regarded his master with a dip of his head.
“Draco,” The Dark Lord stood leisurely and a cold, cruel grin stretched across his white face as his snake, Nagini, slithered about near the bottoms of his robe. “You are to accompany us to Hogwarts, we have some… business to attend to.”
Draco had to restrain himself from furrowing his brow in confusion. (He could hear Pansy chastise him in his head, “Really, Draco, darling, that causes premature wrinkles,”).
“Yes, my Lord.”
Snow covered the Hogwarts grounds in a pillowy blanket. It seemed the sky, too, would have liked to cover the horrors that this war had conceived.
Draco walked behind his aunt and father, who were following the Dark Lord into the school. The irony of it all was not lost on Draco.
Familiar grey stone pillars towered around them as they entered the school. Every student in the vicinity - which wasn’t many, considering almost all of the students were already in the great hall - turned to glance in their direction before quickly looking away and flicking their eyes elsewhere, either at their shoes or towards the ceiling.
Draco watched silently as the doors to the great hall opened to accept their little group.
A hush fell over the already nearly quiet hall. Draco couldn’t think back to a time when the students had been this contained, not even after the death of Cedric Diggory, and it added to the ache he’d been feeling in his very soul since he had been marked a Death Eater, and therefore sealed his fate.
The Dark Lord stood at the front of the great hall, facing out towards the expanse of students.
“It has been brought to my attention that there are some,” the Dark Lord drawled and it made Draco regret ever using a similar tone, “who still resist my rule at this school.”
The Dark Lord’s eyes were skirting around the room - taking a particularly long look at Gryffindor table, Draco noted - before landing on Draco, himself.
A cruel smile stretched across his face and a shark’s mouth of teeth were put on display. “This will not be tolerated,” His words remained as calm and calculated as ever, but there were heavy notes of underlying anger in them that Draco only knew how to detect because the man (if he could even be called that) had been living in his house.
“And while I am unsure of what has given these students the false impression that Harry Potter is coming to save them,” He raised his arms up and glared cruelly out towards their audience, “No matter, I am here to right old wrongs, and give punishment to those who deserve it.”
Draco forced himself to stay still in his position between his Aunt Bellatrix and his father, Lucius. He was still confused as to why he, of all people, was asked to come along. He was also confused as to what they were doing here in the first place. Were they simply here to taunt the students with the hopelessness of their situation? No, he said he was here to ‘right old wrongs’ and to ‘give punishment’. Draco’s stomach flipped sickly as he realized the implications of what was happening.
This was his punishment.
Draco was no fool. He knew this was only the beginning. The Dark Lord surely had more planned than to force Draco to stand in front of his former peers and watch as he mocked them, like a petty schoolboy did a crush. Surely, there was more to come.
Sudden commotion dragged Draco out of his thoughts. He looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of uproar, and of course, it came from Gryffindor table. Specifically, from a certain boy known as Neville and a certain girl known as Ginny.
So, Potter’s sometimes-sidekick and his little girlfriend. Great.
“Harry is coming to save us you snake-faced bastard!” Longbottom burst out.
Girl Weasley stood next to him in a show of support, before yelling out, “Harry’s more of a leader than you could ever hope to be!”
The Dark Lord surveyed them with a front of amusement but there was a certain amount of malice shining in eyes. “Bellatrix, restrain them.”
“With pleasure, My Lord,” His Aunt smiled in that extra disturbing way of hers. She aimed a Petrificus Totalus at Longbottom and before the Weaselette could protest she was hit with one as well.
Alecto and Amycus Carrow were at the scene within seconds, where they exchanged grins and levitated the two defiant teenagers out of the great hall. Bellatrix skipped merrily behind them, humming a tune and laughing to herself occasionally. Draco grimaced in sympathy.
“Lucius,” The Dark Lord’s high, cold voice echoed in the suddenly silent again hall. “The boy.”
Alarms rang in Draco’s head as a heavy sense of foreboding fell upon him. His palms had started to sweat and he was fighting the urge to run.
Large hands that belonged to Draco’s father gripped his wrists and Draco could feel waves of confusion rolling around inside the hall.
The telltale static of a radio being turned on filled the room. Merlin, they were broadcasting this?
“Now,” The Dark Lord said, “You know what you’ve done.”
Draco’s heartbeat increased tenfold. He was trying to control his breathing as he risked a glance toward the tables.
His gaze landed first on Pansy. She looked terribly frightened as Blaise kept one hand on her arm, a look of set determination on his face. When he met Pansy’s eyes the look on her face shifted into defiance. But her eyes, her eyes held a question.
‘Should we help?’
Draco managed a small and subtle shake of his head and watched as tears filled her eyes. But Draco did not miss the slight flashing of relief. Pansy’s Slytherin self-preservation was still a strong part of her.
Good, Draco thought, Maybe she’ll make it through the War.
He directed a look at Blaise and knew he understood it perfectly as his shoulders slumped the smallest bit, his chin staying high in the air while he comforted Pansy.
Draco took a deep breath and turned his head to face the Dark Lord, who had used the time Draco had taken to watch his friends to speak of his greatness. Speak of how no one could disobey the Dark Lord and get away with it.
The task must be completed, no matter the consequences or difficulty.
Draco remembered those words from when he had first been given his assignment. An impossible task.
The Dark Lord stared directly at Draco as his long, white fingers curled around his wand. He whipped the wand up and pointed it at Draco.
Draco felt the grip of his father’s hands intensify in their place of holding Draco’s wrists behind his back.
Draco knew he should stare the Dark Lord down as he was punished. Knew he should exert some form of bravery. A way of showing he was not scared. But he was. He was so scared.
And although Draco knew he should do all of this, he also knew he wouldn’t. Because those were all the kinds of things a Gryffindor like Potter would do. And Draco was not a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin through and through.
Hi, so I was watching a TED talk and this woman was talking about making a list of ten things you know to be true without thinking about and I decided to write about it, also at the request of a friend^^ I’m sorry if this was cheesy but I am a generally cheesy person so I apologize lol also I’m shit at ending things sorry, I’m also not good at poetry and I wrote the poem at the end. Anywho, hope you enjoy it!
When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears.
“Actually, it’s pretty fucking simple,” your words were wrapped with bitterness, “It’s a yes or no.”
Castiel looked at right, almost like he was seeing you for the first time.You were so raw and beautiful, it was hard for him to directly at you. So his blue eyes pulled down to look at the ground, his black dress shoes shined from the ceiling light.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t love you. Nor will I ever,” he firmly responded, regretting every word that fell through his lips. He wanted to love you, needed to. His body ached for you in ways he never experienced. You were the light at the end of the tunnel, the hope he had clung to when Heaven was being torn apart.
“Do you really mean that?” You whispered, using all your self strength to keep from crying.
In Which Radioactive lists ill-advised things she did throughout her childhood
(if you want to hear more about any of these, let me know)
Age 3-4: Threw all the clothes out of dresser drawer and climbed in. Very quickly learned that it didn’t hold my weight.
Age 7: Thought teacher wouldn’t notice me reading during class. Got placed on “book moratorium” for a week.
Age 11: Read an adaptation of Dracula. Developed hatred of vampires.
Age 15: Stood barefoot in a freezing cold creek for 10 minutes in the middle of December just to prove I was tougher than another kid. Surprisingly, suffered no ill effects.
Age 18: took parents to see Toy Story 3 right before leaving for college. Bad idea.
Age 19: Helped tape my roommate’s shoes to the ceiling. All of them.
Age 20: Crawled under a garage door (VERY DANGEROUS) into my garage to get into the house
Age 21: Sliced my hand open in the middle of a class meeting and didn’t tell anyone.
Age 22: Confronted Mr. Whiskers the Bobcat solo with a bamboo stick. Thankfully I didn’t get close enough to see him. Just heard him.
Miscellaneous: Didn’t anchor the 30-30 on my shoulder well. Ended up flat on my back, thank you recoil.
Tried to pick a fight with a guy twice my size because he was messing with my sister.
Put a snake in doll’s clothes
Put a kitten in a dollhouse
Went on strike against cheese
Swam in jellyfish infested waters
Let my baby niece watch 1984 Transformers
Jumped five feet from a wall into a river
Marched into the middle of a briar patch
Today at school this dude was messing around in the hallways and he was kicking his foot but his shoelaces were untied SO HIS FUCKING SHOE FLEW OFF AND GOT STUCK IN THE CEILING (Schools have these weird ceiling tiles that are really loose you know??). He couldn’t get his shoe out of the ceiling because the shoe was stuck between the tile and the frame. Suddenly a teacher comes out of a random classroom and deadass asks the dude:
“Where is your shoe?”
“In the ceiling.”
THE TEACHER WASN’T EVEN SURPRISED AND JUST LOWKEY SAID: “WELL YOU BETTER GET TO CLASS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE YOU’RE ALREADY LATE”
Long story short, the kid went to class with only one shoe and I’m still not over it.
⚔ Altera sat at the end of a hallway, surrounded by greasy wrappers that once held cheeseburgers… … … She had run out of cheeseburgers… … … Now she was a little bit grumpy, but also didn’t know what to do with herself. There was still so much time left in the day…? Her hands sat on the floor on either side of her, and her legs stuck straight out in front of her, curved pointed shoes pointing to the ceiling.
“Babe, you don’t even like coffee.” Your friend was finally able to visit you at University for the day, and you had taken her to your favorite little cafe hangout.
“Well, Meghan, it’s a good thing I don’t order coffee then isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes as you took a sip of your smoothie, and shifted in the padded armchair you had claimed as yours.
“I swear, if you hang out at this coffee shop any more, they’ll have to make you a personalized bench.” It was your turn to roll your eyes as you shifted your attention back to Meghan,
“I’m sorry if-” she interrupted you with a practiced, exuberant tone.
“-oh yes, please tell me again about the ambiance of the place.” You simply chuckled with your friend as she continued to imitate you and your love for this cafe,
“The warmth, the pleasant background noise of the other people that is there - but not too loud because it’s just hipster enough to have a small crowd but it’s no Starbucks.” You tried to shush your friend through your giggles, as she continued to get louder, and more enthusiastic with her imitation of you.
“- How it smells ever so slightly like cinnamon, -”
“- and has muffins that are to die for.”
“- and don’t even get me started on the music-” at that point she had gotten loud enough for people to start looking. There was even another regular you had seen before, sitting by the order counter, who turned away from his laptop to look your way, sliding one of his large headphones off of his right ear.
You kind of smiled apologetically to everyone else in the cafe, keeping your hand over Meghan’s mouth, before speaking to her quietly.
“I’m sorry if I like this place!” You removed your hand from her mouth as she giggled at you with an eyebrow raised. You sat in silence for a moment before you felt the need to defend yourself.
“I mean, whoever makes the playlists here is my long lost best friend!” That was the cue for Meg to roll her eyes and take a long drink from her coffee,
“No seriously, It’s like when you are driving somewhere, and you can’t turn the car off until that one song is over because you simply can’t cut off good music Meghan. You just can’t!” You shook your head, as you closed your eyes and listened to the mix playing the background at the moment,
“Every time I go to leave they just seem to play the exact song I want to hear again. Either that or something I had never heard before, but instantly love!” Your eyes opened again as you turned back to Meghan,
“Do know how much new music I have discovered just sitting here listening to these mixes? I mean, sometimes I swear I could kiss whoever comes up with those playlists-”
“That’s it.” Meg abruptly stood from their corner, leaving her drink on the side table next to her arm chair,
“Meg? Meghan.” Your tone started as confused, and then became almost worried and stern as she headed toward the counter, as your eyes bugged out in worry as what your adventurous friend could be up to.
“Excuse me?” One of the baristas turned to speak with Meghan, who had a polite smile on her face. You didn’t hear what he asked as you quickly weaves between patrons to get to her side, and try and stop her from doing something mortifying.
“Oh no, nothing is wrong with my drink, I just had kind of a random question; which one of your co-workers is the one in charge of your playlist?”
The barista laughed,
“Oh! Actually, he doesn’t work here. It’s a friend of mine that makes all our mixes.”
“Well, my friend over there is like, next to in love with hi-” you got to her in time to interrupt,
“Oh my goodness Meghan! That’s not true-” when she was set on something though, she was near impossible to stop.
“-it’s literally all she talks about. How perfect the mixes are,-”
“-How she wishes she could steal their iPod,-”
“-she actually just said-”
“Don’t you dare.” At this point you could feel your ears flaming, and you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, your focus switching from the barista’s name tag that read ‘Luke,’ in slightly faded blue sharpie, a rainbow Lisa Frank kitten sticker in the bottom right hand corner, to your shoes, the ceiling and back.
The barista bit his lip trying not to laugh at the two friends bickering from the counter across from him,
“I’m just helping you out my dear.” Meg patted you on the shoulder in a slightly condescending manner before turning back to Luke,
“She just said that she wants to ki-”
“I did not!” You hastily interrupted her, until a new voice came into the conversation from behind you.
“I think you did dovey, I heard it myself.” You spun around so quickly you had to grasp Meghan’s arm so you wouldn’t fall over. You heard Luke chuckle behind you and say,
“This is my friend Ashton. He makes all our mixes, and is the nightly DJ for the university radio station.”
There stood the other regular that you had noticed, but never spoken to before. He had abandoned his large headphones at his table with his laptop, his hands settling into the pockets of his jacket, before looking at you, and cracking probably the largest smile you’ve ever seen in your life.
You felt Meghan nudge you a little forward, before she stepped toward the counter herself, and struck up a conversation with Luke about something random, like where he had gotten lip piercing done.
“If I had known you were such a big fan, I would have just made you a mix, and then gotten the guts to talk to you a long time ago.”
You were pretty positive your face was on fire.
“You…you’ve seen me before?” He looked almost sheepish as he ran his fingers through his hair,
“I mean…you’re here almost as often as I am dove.” It was your turn to sheepishly scuff your feet against the linoleum, trying to regulate the temperature of your face.
“Do you maybe, wanna join me?” You looked up to see tilt his head back to his table, his smile turning into a teasing smirk,
“I’ll even buy you a coffee and give you a sneak at next week’s mix, if you’d like.” He jerked his thumb backwards to the table. You returned his smile and said,
“Actually, I don’t like coffee. Make it a smoothie, and you’ve got a deal.”