a series of troyler short-stories and one-shots --- credit for the cover goes to @xsillytilly

Dan is different. He's learned to accept that. Well, as best he can anyway, considering he's never really had much of a choice. It's been this way for as long as he can remember, the constant runaround process of trying to feel normal. His life is built around it, trying to trick both himself and everyone he interacts with into seeing him as your average person. The isolation as he desperately tries to keep others from finding out, the bitterness that wells up inside of him each and every time he's reminded that he'll never be like everyone else, the fear that nothing will ever change. He's fated to be this way forever; a misfit from society. Isolation can only go so far though, so when he's struggling to make ends meet and he's faced with the option of looking into a serious job or taking on a roommate, he opts for what seems like the easier option at the time. It doesn't seem so easy ten failed roommates into the process, or when he sits down at a table to meet with prospect number eleven and ends up with a coffee spilled all over his lap. Potential roommate number eleven, Phil, turns out to be an insufferable optimistic ball of sunshine that Dan wants nothing to do with. His options are running out though, as are the savings he's been using to pay his rent, so he finds himself begrudgingly agreeing to let the other man move in. Neither of them have any way of knowing just what they've gotten themselves into as they shake on the matter, but time will tell.

"Hello." He hissed out of the corner of the dark room, I dared to call mine. He sounded distant, but I still cowered to direct my attention towards him. I soon felt cold air on the back of my neck, forcing me to turn around. His eyes were red like flames, clothes disheveled and torn. Even though his soul appeared dark, the pink in his lips was still prominent. His pitch black hair stood perfectly on top of his face that screamed beauty and danger. But the slightest blood stains on his hands reminded me of what he really was. A pair of lips barely touched my neck, sending shivers down my spine, "I've been waiting," he whispered against my skin. He was my childhood monster. He was just a demon. He was The Midnight Man. And I think I loved him. //First book of the series// **please don't steal this. if you do ur a dick**

Everyone has one. On their wrist. Initials. Your soulmate's initials. The ultimate OTP. You guys are meant to be. Here's the catch. You've got to find your soulmate before you are 26 years old. But for Tyler Oakley, time is running out. highest ranking #142 in fanfiction