song has nothing to do with the doodle

First Dance? First Dance.

this has nothing to do with marital first dances. Also this is certified trash. Also, the song Evan and you dance to is Sleeping At Last’s cover of Make You Feel My Love , so do with that what you will. 

Read my other works here and here for this to make a bit more sense.

Word Count: 1,007

Warning: School anxiety and general angst

Evan Hansen x Reader

Evan and Y/N quickly became inseparable after reuniting in Literature 102. They ate dinner at the dining hall together every day and studied in Evan’s apartment every weekend. They left encouraging doodles in each other’s notebooks and sent dozens of good-morning texts. Evan had explained to Y/N that he studied for a semester at a community college, but couldn’t stand being in their hometown much longer. He said he worked his butt off in order to afford out-of-state tuition and his very own studio apartment. As for happening to attend the same college as Y/N, Evan swore that the stars must’ve aligned. 

Both Evan and Y/N now sat on the floor of Evan’s apartment, pouring over stacks of papers and textbooks. Y/N had an overbearing test on Monday over the shapes of organic molecules. She rubbed her tired eyes gently, trying to stop the words in her textbook from blurring together. The paragraph she was reading became one huge jumble of letters, crashing haphazardly into each other. She groaned softly, pressing the palms of her hands into her closed eyes.

“Hey uhm… Y/N are you- are you okay? I mean, I’m just sorry for asking,” Evan spoke to her. He looked at her with worried eyes, already thinking of a thousand reasons for Y/N to be upset. She just shook her head in reply to Evan. Inhaling sharply, Y/N forced herself not to cry. Crying on Evan Hansen’s apartment floor was the last thing she should be doing. She should be making flashcards and highlighting important words and memorizing orbital positions and remembering electrical charges and…. She should have been doing anything but crying.

“I think we should take a break… no! I know we should take a break,” Evan said to her, trying to sound assertive. 

“No, Evan. I have to study. I can’t afford another bad grade. I’ll look like such an idiot if I’m the only one to get below a passing grade. Oh god… my professor’s going to want to talk to me about me awful grades,” Y/N blurted out. Her words came out rushed and weighty. Tears trickled down her face as she forced herself to start reading her textbook again. A brick seemed to be pressing down on her chest and shoulders, making it hard to breathe easily. 

Evan was lost. Comforting other people wasn’t the easiest for him to do. His words would come out too quickly and they never seemed to be clever or revolutionary. Sometimes words weren’t needed, though. Evan was better at actions.

“But… y-you can’t study if the lights are off!” Evan said, quickly standing up and flicking off the overhead light. Y/N sat in the glow of the fairy lights running across Evan’s floor and looked up at her friend with tear-stained cheeks. “And… AND! You can’t study when there’s music playing,” Evan continued, connecting his phone to a small set of speakers. The sound of a piano playing softly began emanating throughout the room. A soft melody swept it’s way to Y/N’s ears, wrapping her up in familiarity and safety.

“Ev,” Y/N whispered softly. She shook her head, unwilling to just quit on her studies. Evan stood in front of her, pleading softly with his gentle eyes. He outstretched his hand to her silently, just as she had done for him so many years ago. Her hand took hold of his, bringing her up from the floor and onto her feet. They stood facing each other. Only a few inches separated the pair. Evan’s soft fingers gently wiped away a few of Y/N’s tears. His motions were careful and calculated, showing just how much he cared. Nothing was said as the gap between them closed. Two bodies leaned against each other, seeking refuge from the present and the past. 

“Is this- Is this okay?” Evan whispered to her as he placed a hand on the small of her back. Y/N’s arm loosely wrapped around his neck in response. Their free hands slowly, clumsily found each other. Fingers intertwined, holding on to their counterpart for dear life. Evan watched as Y/N rested her head on his chest. She looked peaceful as her eyes fluttered close, the weight on her shoulders lifted away. The music swelled as it echoed throughout the room, giving Evan just enough courage to sway to his left. Y/N followed suit and the pair began moving in time to the music. Evan’s hand began to pull away from Y/N’s. The fear of being too sweaty or too warm or too calloused crept over him. Y/N didn’t let him let go. Not tonight. Tonight was for listening to what each other was trying to say without actually saying a word. Tonight was for putting fear aside and letting safety take over. Y/N was Evan’s white flag and Evan was Y/N’s too. The sort of white flag you wave to signal that you surrender. You surrender because you can’t do life alone anymore. 

“Y-Y/N… I thought I would never see you again. You know… when we were little. And- and I went through some horrible stuff when you were gone-” Evan rambled, breaking the silence. His voice was a shaky whisper as his bottled-up emotions rose from chest.

“It’s okay Ev. I’m here now. We’re here now. I’m not saying I’m going to fix you, or that you should fix me. That’s not how these types of things work. But I’ll be here for you, Evan. I won’t leave you again. I promise,” Y/N whispered back. Her eyes were still closed as Evan looked down at the way her fingers brushed against his. He had never felt this way before,  like all of his hope was suddenly pinned on himself instead of someone else. Like he could do almost anything because he was doing this. He dancing with Y/N and she was dancing with him.

It’s Friday, the 7th of July!

You don’t need to stick a feather in your hat to celebrate today’s lovely holiday: it’s Macaroni Day! Pasta and cheese dishes have been around for a long time—dated back as early as the 14th century—and the first modern recipe for macaroni itself showed up in the 1770 book The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald. And though most of us are probably familiar with the song ‘Yankee Doodle’ and how he “put a feather in his hat and called it macaroni”, the use of 'macaroni’ there has nothing to do with pasta: in the late 18th century 'macaroni’ was a word used to describe something as being fashionable or stylish and the story goes that the song 'Yankee Doodle’ was created by a British army physician, Dr. Richard Schuckberg, as a satiric look at New England Yankees.

So, take today to celebrate both the best pasta dish there is and being as fashionable as can be! Happy Macaroni Day and Happy Friday! Try to have an awesome weekend! (^_^)

Okay but when Clint and Natasha finally get together the other Avengers are almost jealous because damn Clint must be having some mind blowing sex. Little do they know that Clint and Natasha don’t have sex for nearly eighteen months after they start dating because, for Natasha, sex has always been a weapon, another tool in her arsenal. It means nothing to her.

So for your consideration, Clint helping Natasha rediscover her own sensuality:

-first of all, cuddles. So many cuddles. Learning to touch without hurting or expectation
-drawing on each other’s skin with magic marker, sometimes writing song lyrics or just doodles
-Clint helping Natasha clean off after a tough mission and holding her close until she feels better
-holding her hand whenever possible, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand
-taking care of her when she gets sick (and despite her very violent protestations)
-knowing when she needs space and when she needs to be held so tight it feels like her ribs are going to break but Clint doesn’t let go because he knows that letting go would hurt even more

I just have a lot of feelings about these nerds ya know?