best of 5sosff

beautifully haunting excerpts from true literary classics (also known as 5 Seconds of Summer fan fiction) found a line you'd love to share? tell us about it here.

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Mick pushes her cold soup aside and heads for the help desk. The crowd around it is full of frantic travelers with little rolling suitcases and children in tow. A woman pushes past Mick, waving her boarding pass in her hand and bellowing, “Excuse me! Excuse me!” Mick barely notices her. She feels numb, frozen, lost in time, lost in a moment she’ll never be able to recover. Maybe she left herself back in the apartment she used to share with Calum. Maybe when she packed up everything she owned, she forgot to pack up the pieces of herself she’d given to him, and she left them behind. She imagines Calum mailing herself back to her, piece by piece, in a series of manila envelopes. In one, one of the earrings he bought her on one of his trips back home. In another, “you first,” what she always said to him before she said, “I love you.” And in a third, a third out of so many she won’t be able to count them, the first smile she ever smiled at him, right here in Newark airport.

Soft Day, wakinguptired (@wokeuptired)

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I'm a lady, I don’t sweat, I perspire.

Yours, joeypotter

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“I just–” Michael began, but then paused, trying to figure out what he was going to say. “You came to my flat and you wanted to be friends again, and I just did it, even though you hurt me a lot. And I was thinking about it when I was in the loo and, why did I do that? Why am I so spineless when it comes to you?” Evie didn’t know what to say, so she kept quiet. But hope rose in her chest, a voice in her head telling her he loves you he loves you he loves you he loves you. “The thing is, you’re not ever going to be spineless for me.” The hope in her chest, once soaring and rising, crashed and burned almost immediately. “Look, I don’t mind if you’ll never love me as much as you love your acting career, or if you just want me as your friend,” Michael’s voice was strained, almost painful to hear. “But I just want to know where I stand.” Evie swallowed thickly. This was it. There was no going back now. “I’m in love with you,” she admitted, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “So in fucking love with you.”

Tick of Time, serotonin

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I want you to know,” Ashton cuts in gently, “that being right and being happy are two different things, and I want both for you. Really, I want you to succeed and I want you to be the best damn student you can be and prove him wrong, or whatever. But we were happy together, don’t you think?” She does think, she truly does. “Can we please be happy again? I’ll help you study, I’ll help you do whatever, I’ll punch Josh in the face if you need me to–” A laugh bubbles up in her throat at that, and Crystal’s surprised but not upset at it, because it sounds good, pure, something she hasn’t felt in a while. “Will you let me?” She’s got a heart of glass. It looks sharp and tough, sure. But if you hold in your hands like Ashton did (still does, if she’s honest), you’ll quickly find it’s heavy and hollow and beautiful and breakable, so, so breakable. Only, she’s the one who broke it, and she broke his, too. Glass doesn’t go back together quite the same way once it’s shattered, but maybe Ash can sew Crystal a new heart, one that can be stitched together again if need be. She likes the thought of that, and she likes his next words even more. “You are the Crystal Zhao. The only girl for me. The one I want. The, italicized.

The, Italicized, flummoxed

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“I thought you swore you’d never do anything for a man,” Luke had teased her, sounding nasal because of his blocked nose. Dottie rolled her eyes and set their tea down. “I won’t. You’re not a man. You’re just a little boy and you need taking care of,” she’d said, getting into his bed. “And anyway, you’re ill, so this is the one time that I will do anything for you.” Luke didn’t have the energy to tease her again, so he just snuggled down into his pillow and tried to get some rest. He could feel Dottie next to him, the warmth radiating from her skin, and he was so undeniably happy even though he was sick as a dog. “Could you, like, speak or sing or something,” he said sleepily, “I love your voice.” Dottie blushed a deep crimson and her heart sped up. Luke wasn’t very good at complimenting her, she’d accepted that. And he said things that sounded a lot like ‘I love you’, but they weren’t, and she could deal with that too. It was fine. She took what she could get from him.

a quiet street (where old ghosts meet), serotonin 

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Their matching dark eyes meet and she knows that her answer isn’t good enough. Ben reaches out to grip his hand. He knows she’s going to grip it so hard he won’t be able to feel it soon. She always does that when Michael has upset her, but Calum doesn’t mind. The temporary pain is worth it if it makes Ben feel better.

Paint Your Face, sawyerhemmings

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He hears Sylvie’s footsteps sidling away, dragging wet shoe soles squeakily across the floor until the sound fades out and all Michael can hear is the clacking of his own teeth. When she comes back, she’s ditched the towel and replaced it with a jumper; one that’s old and worn but still thick, the wool’s clashing colours and patterns making Michael blink a bit. There’s another bundle of fabric in her hands, and she holds it out to him wordlessly. The second he opens his mouth, the usual “it’s fine” just on the tip of his tongue, she silences him with a look. “You’re shivering. I don’t want to hear you bitching about how it’s my fault you got pneumonia, okay?” She’s trying hard to keep her voice steady, Michael can tell. He tries not to smile, presses his lips together to act like he’s been properly scolded, and pulls the wool over his head. It’s soft and a bit musty, the colours more muted than the ones that adorn Sylvie’s, and the sleeves are noticeably too short. Still, it’s warm, and if Sylvie’s trying then so should he.

Fight Club, thatblondebitch

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No matter how many emails she sent (and she continued to send emails, even after it had become apparent that he wasn’t going to reply) he never said anything to her. He’d speak to Laney briefly in an email, but never to her. It hurt. It hurt the first time and it hurt the fiftieth and the hundredth, and it hurt whenever she thought about it in between. She knew she had broken a promise to him, the promise that she’d be back before he had time to realize that she was gone, that six months really wasn’t that long, but she didn’t see why he had such a negative reaction. People broke promises all the time. If she could have controlled the circumstances, she would have come back, if only to take him and leave again. She had thought that he’d known that. He had to know that. She’d said it so many times, over and over and over again, that there was no way he didn’t know. “How angry is he with me?” Michael turned back to her, cocking a pierced eyebrow in her direction, “do you really want to know?” “No,” she sighed, “no, I really don’t.”

The Long, Long Journey Home, jetblackhearts

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This morning she woke up dreaming that she was made out of sunlight and opened her eyes to find instead heavy limbs attached to her torso and rain beating against the windowpanes. Everything hurts. Eloise did not expect to see Calum Hood today. Calum Hood is truly made out of sunlight.

bending earthward,  wakinguptired

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One of the most important things Zayn has learned in his simultaneously exceedingly long and incredibly short twenty-four years are the different interpretations that come along with the significance of words. When someone says, “Let’s go for a walk,” they mean, “I need you.” When someone says, “Can I have a cigarette?,” they mean, “I want to drown with you.” And, when someone says, “I can’t do this anymore,” they mean, “I love you.” (“I know” means “I love you, too.”)

Recipe for Disaster, fenchurch (@inthesummerswelter)

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“Stay,” she whispers as he scrambles to gather his things. He’s grabbed his coat and is searching for his keys when he hears her muffled request. He pauses in his frantic hurrying and stares at her, one arm clutching a coat to his chest and fingers linger inches from his keys. The moment is tense. She can’t explain what she sees in his eyes when he looks at her, as he analyzes the lost expression on her face, the tired expression on her face. And she can see the realization spark across his expression. She watches as he finally understands and she has never felt more relieved. “Okay,” he says finally and when she wakes up the next day it’s Wednesday and he’s gone. And so is her pain.

blank space, colorsofthewindxx

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In celebration of heather’s (fivessas) readers challenge, I have made this blog to acknowledge the heart and core of 5sosff: it’s stories. The words, thoughts, history, emotion and art within a story.

(The other organs of 5sosff which includes the community, the writer/reader relationships, and others will be recognized as well).

This blog will be dedicated to posting beautiful quotes and excerpts from stories that has inspired, enamored and moved a reader.

If you have one you’d like to share, submit here. :)