but I cleaned everything and I can walk and breathe in there again

Get Out.

Originally posted by tess453

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: Yes

Summary: Deciding to stay in for a date, Peter and the Reader are faced with annoying and embarrassing comments from the whole team, who are unaware of their relationship.

Word Count: 2,428

Warnings: language, fluff, annoying avengers (??), embarrassed!Peter, embarrassed!Reader, cuteness, LOTR trilogy. (Let me know if I missed any)

A/N: Alright homies, I apologize it has taken me so long to upload something. I’ve been reaally stressed. So hopefully this is okay? For the anon that requested this, I hope you like it. I’d love some feedback, as always. Enjoy reading!


Dark, gray clouds blocked any source of light from shining through the big, thick glass windows surrounding every inch of the building.

The entire tower was filled with a solemn mood that spread into every corner and room.

Most of the team dreaded days like these, since it put a damper on their mood, (especially Steve).

You, however, cherished days like these the most.

It’s where you find your peace and inner self, no matter how depressing that may sound.

It helps you relax and release any stresses that corrupt your thoughts.

But the best reason of all is that you don’t have to leave the house, even if you had a date with Peter tonight.

However, thinking that idea through, you realized something.

The whole team would be here.

With Peter and you.

During your date.

Well, fuck.

Keep reading

imagine vampire yoongi.

Originally posted by myloveseokjin

  • just when you thought he couldn’t get any grumpier, min yoongi is cursed to walk the earth for all eternity.
  • yikes.
  • so done with the world’s shit by now, honestly he stopped caring a long, long, looooong time ago and if anyone expects him to give a flying fuck about a hashtag or the panda’s dying they can think again.
  • political scandal? “is that a new band?”
  • global warming? “good, it’s kinda drafty here.”
  • the sun will one day grow to encompass the earth? “great, i’ll be waiting.”
  • whenever he gets bored or impatient with everything he’ll just go to ground and hibernate. 
  • by which i mean he will literally dig himself a hole and go to sleep in the earth for anything from a week to a century (ok that was one time.)
  • and he’s cold all. the. time. like, yeah i know he’s technically dead but he actually feels the cold all the time, because he lowkey starves himself.
  • so he’s always very bundled up, and doesn’t really notice the temperature shift from inside/outside or winter/summer.
  • and yoongi is old, okay, he doesn’t need much blood to keep him going. 
  • he’s got a short list of donors he can have a few sips from during the week, and that way nobody has to die because of him.
  • because ugh slaughter is such a pain to clean up.
  • so, not only is he technically dead, but he looks kinda malnourished, a little sick, and like he hasn’t slept. ever. 
  • and yet he’s very pretty, flawless, stoic, and distractingly magnetic.
  • because he’s so old however, he’s not weak, just lethargic af.
  • there’s just one thing he cares about. wanna take a wild guess?
  • music.
  • the only reason he hasn’t sunk to the bottom of the ocean, flung himself into a volcano, or walked into the sunset by now.
  • and when you don’t need to eat, sleep, or pee, you get through a lot of music so yoongi has pretty much heard it all.
  • these days he just kinda hibernates and wanders around while he’s waiting for new releases.
  • and you work in a record shop. wow isn’t that a nice coinkydink.
  • his usual place shuts down and he has to find a new shop that’ll let him sit around and listen to music in the evenings. 
  • and your place of work is exactly one such place.
  • he comes in late, depending on the season, just when the sun has gone down, during the last few hours of your work day.  
  • he doesn’t say anything, just sits and listens until you have to lock up.
  • and you just assume he works all day and this is the only time he has to go browse, although you notice eventually that he rarely buys anything, but you decide to leave him alone because he looks like he’s had one hell of a day.
  • anyway it’s nice not to be alone in the shop at the end of the day when it gets dark and all.
  • you tried to offer him coffee once, because you got some for yourself and he always looks like he just got in from a snowstorm. but he just shook his head no.
  • and at first he would stop by the shop once a month or every two weeks.
  • but one night, when you play something over the speakers that he hasn’t heard in decades, he suddenly feels???? nostalgic ????
  • and with wide eyes he asks you the name of the artist and you trip all over yourself and your words trying to tell him because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak and wow is that what his voice sounds like
  • and after that he starts coming every night to rediscover all the old stuff he hasn’t listened to in ages, because somehow in all his grump he had completely forgotten he could do that???? 
  • and he’s lowkey very grateful that he rediscovered his love of music through you, so whenever you try to make polite conversation with him after that he doesn’t just grunt or shake his head, he gives you actual answers, and you start learning more about him.
  • you let him stay after closing time, just a little while until you have to go, making small talk whenever he’s not absorbed in the music.
  • that way you learn so, sO much about music, everything from little technical details to great historical context, and you don’t understand how one man can have such a large range of knowledge.
  • and then you start playing whichever album he chooses over the speakers so that you can both listen and talk about the music together.
  • and stay around longer so he can finish whichever album he’s listening to that evening.
  • and he begins to walk you home because that way you can continue your conversations, and also it’s late and dark and he knows exactly what kind of monsters lurk in these shadows.
  • and by that time you’re already head over heels for him, but he’s very careful about keeping his distance, so you just assume he’s not attracted to you and that’s fine as long as he keeps keeping you company.
  • yoongi has probably mentioned he’s a vampire.
  • like at least twice he’s proclaimed to be dead and you just assumed you didn’t get the joke.
  • but the real joke is he’s dead, he doesn’t care who knows, and it’s not like anyone will believe him anyway.
  • “you’re too thin, when was the last time you ate something, yoongi?”
  • “a couple centuries probably, what year is it again?”
  • and
  • “you’re so pale, yoongi, you should get more sun.”
  • “i’m already dead, a little sun isn’t gonna help.”
  • or
  • “you look tired, yoongi, do you get enough sleep?”
  • “i took a ten year nap before this, don’t worry.”
  • or
  • “hey, yoongi, how are you today?”
  • “dead. could be worse, i guess.”
  • lmao rip.
  • and then, you go and get a dang paper cut.
  • before you can so much as bring it to your lips yoongi is already at your side, pressing a tissue (where did that even come from?) to the cut so firmly it cuts off circulation to the entire finger anyway.
  • and he’s so,,,,, close. 
  • you’ve never seen him so close, and all you can do is stare at him like an idiot and wonder how many people have specks of red in their eyes, because you’ve never seen that on anyone before.
  • and he doesn’t even breathe. he can’t.
  • and that’s when you realise “yoongi, you’re so cold!”
  • “i’m dead. i told you, i’m a vampire.”
  • and you’re like hha,,, hah,,,ha? w-what? 
  • so he takes your other hand, and holds it to the side of his neck and he’s completely cold and there’s no pulse.
  • and now the cat is out of the bag so he may as well lean in and sniff you because life’s too short amirite.
  • “you smell……….. incredible.”
  • that’s when you see his lil fangs.
  • and at first you’re freaking out because hol ?? ?y STHIT???
  • but then you realise, this is yoongi, who’s walked you home for months now, he’s had every opportunity to drain you dry and he hasn’t and you’re desperately in love with him.
  • so you just kinda,,,,, chill.
  • and yoongi looks surprised, expecting you to kick and scream, and asks why your heart rate suddenly slowed again and you tell him it’s because you trust him.
  • so, he asks “but what if i bit you?”
  • and you say “you wouldn’t.”
  • “then,,,,,,,, what if i kissed you?”
  • your heart damn near beats right out of your chest.
  • and in response he gives you the smuggest grin, fangs and all.
  • anyway, nsfw under the cut.

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Self Care

It’s Mental Health Month. May 1st. The beginning of it. I just want to post some tips on what I find useful when I feel anxious, depressed or lonely. Some tips on how to care for yourself mixed in here too. I know what it’s like to feel like nothing is going to work out and you feel like there is no point anymore. I still get sad from time to time but here is what I try to do to lower those horrible feelings. 


  1. Music 
    When I feel down I put on my chill playlist and listen to the songs. Not just recognize that the song is playing. I listen to every word, every beat, every instrument that makes a sound. I listen so hard that I forget everything else around me and forget everything that is going on in my head for a while. This actually really helps and especially if it’s a slow song, something that matches my mood. 
  2. Reading 
    Reading is one of my favourite things to do. I’m in love with words. And getting deep into one of my favourite books helps me forget for a while. Grab something to drink and maybe a snack, find a quiet and comfy place to relax and let yourself fall into a book. 
  3. Eat 
    When I feel depressed my appetite can go away pretty quickly. But if you don’t eat, you’ll feel even more tired and low. And that’s not good. So eat. Not junk food. Maybe a treat every now and again but make sure to eat healthy too. Fruit or vegetables. Maybe make some type of sandwhich or maybe eat a bowl of porridge. Whatever you want to make. But remember, not always junk food. And drink lot’s and lot’s of water. 
  4. Shower or bath 
    If you feel all ugh, and ew take a long warm shower or a bath full of bubbles. Taking a shower or bath might help you feel more relaxed and feel more taken care of. And keeping yourself fresh and clean will help help boost your system. 
  5. Fresh air 
    When I’m down, I get lazy. So the whole ‘take a long walk’ thing doesn’t go with me. What I like to do instead is open a window and stand there or take a chair and sit near there. I’m getting fresh air into my lungs which is good and I don’t need to get up and go outside to do it. Now getting exercise is a good thing to do too because it’ll boost your system also. But when you really can’t get up and walk far, just go to a window and read or listen to music.
  6. Cry 
    Yes crying is on this list. When you really need to let those tears out, just do it. If you’re in a place you feel comfortable enough to do it. Let it all out, for however long you need to. Crying doesn’t make you weak or a loser or whatever you think it makes you. It helps you. Instead of holding all those feelings in, you can let them out by crying. So just do it because a cry every now and again, will make you feel a little better. Hopefully. 
  7. Decorate and change it up
    This may be an odd one but it helps me. When I’m sad I’ll look up some quotes that I really like, write them on some paper and decorate the paper and stick it on my wall. Or sometimes I sift things around. If I think something in my room would look better in a different position then I’ll move it. I’ll maybe take some things down and hang something new up instead. Tidy my room too if it needs it. This helps because I’m focusing on other things. Where will this go? Does this look good on this wall? Things like that. Try it and see. 
  8.  Breathe 
    When I feel like I can’t breathe, I remember that I just need to take a minute. Look at my surroundings. What’s the colour of the walls? Breathe. What’s in the room? Breathe. What’s the weather like outside? Breathe. What’s my favourite food? Breathe. Do I have any plans this week? Breathe. Ask yourself some questions. Answer them and breathe. Breathe, breathe and breathe. Don’t let you make yourself small. Think bigger than what that stupid annoying voice in your head is telling you. Breathe. Because you’re worth it.

I hope these tips helped. I really do. And please, please REMEMBER… you are beautiful. You are so amazing and this world needs you in it. Maybe you feel like no one cares. But I guarantee you there is somebody out there who thinks the world of you. You are somebody’s moon. You’re that person who lights up the darkness for them. Don’t let your light go out. Stay strong and remember to love yourself and take care of yourself. You guys are more than welcome to ask me something if you need any advice or have any questions. The door is open and you are welcome. 

Worth

Canon ‘verse Dean and Cas talking about feelings

read it here on AO3!

“Cas, I just - I don’t think we can do this,” Dean says.

And Cas, sitting beside him in shotgun, tastes loss in his mouth. He stares straight ahead.

He’s been waiting for this, if he’s honest with himself. It was too good to be true. He and Dean have been - things have been different between them, recently. They’ve been saying more, showing more. It’s been filling a part of Cas that he hadn’t even understood was aching and empty, until suddenly it wasn’t.

But now…

“It’s - you know, we got jobs to do,” Dean says. Outside, the night rolls past. They’re driving home to the bunker, shopping bags in the back. The trip was domestic, even sweet; but at the check-outs, Cas saw Dean’s face. He’d known that something was shifting. He’d known that there was trouble to come.

“Jobs?” he manages.

“Yeah, Cas, jobs. We got the world to save. Half the time we’re throwing ourselves under the bus so it won’t drive off the cliff, and that’s good, because the bus won’t crash, but…” He pauses; Cas says nothing. “But - God, Cas, it’s so much harder to throw yourself under the bus when you got someone out there who makes you think you shouldn’t have to.”

Keep reading

His || Jungkook || 0.14

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

Teaser | 0.1 | 0.2 | 0.3 | 0.4 | 0.5 | 0.6 | 0.7 | 0.8 | 0.9 | 0.10 | 0.11 | 0.12 | 0.13 | 0.14

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A Lesson in Love (The Reunion)

Summary: (College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 3,837

A/N: This is the second to last part in the series, babes. We’re almost done with this journey. 

“A Lesson in Love” Masterlist + Soundtrack

@avengerstories - you truly are the best of the best when it comes to editing (and everything else too)

Originally posted by captaincentenarian

You’ve walked the length of this hallway more than a dozen times before. Hundreds, if you count the amount of times you’ve strolled through the hallway in your apartment, one that is a spitting image of the one you’re standing in now. Your familiarity with the small space should make the journey from where you’re standing to where you need to be easy.

Should.

Every time you’ve made this walk, it was never with the knowledge that what’s waiting for you at your final destination had the potential to change everything.

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Vive el Momento (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Requested: No, but @illuminateshawn and I live for drunk, festival Mendes in that red shirt from Amsterdam.

Word count: 4,947

“Can I have three large beers, thanks” I smiled, handing the girl in front of me my money. The sun was burning into my back, heating up my entire body slowly.

“I just love this weather” my friend Julia said. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to fully enjoy the warm rays of sun burning in her face.

“Me too” I agreed, looking around the festival filled with drunk people having fun everywhere.

To me, this was what summer was all about; heat, friends, music and beers. Actually, going to festivals was my happy place, I loved the whole idea of just letting go and enjoy yourself as much as possible; meeting new people and staying up until the early hours when the sun rose again.

“Girl, don’t look now but that guy… he’s looking again” Julia laughed, taking of her black sunglasses.

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Stalker

rompts: Combination of this one-shot where you’re batmom and just came back from a long business trip and all the kids missed you & when you get home you get shot by an unknown outside the manor in front of Damian who felt something was off? If we survive it’s up2u AND THIS one where Batmom has a stalker? And maybe she doesn’t want to tell Batman right away because she thinks she can handle it?

Requested by: @imagination-factory

AN: Warning there will probably be tears, but not for the reason you think …

Words:1089


          “My boys!!!!!” You open your arms as the boys run forward. You’re nearly driven to the ground by the force of four hugs. You make sure to hug each of your sons individually, before they begin fighting for your attention.

          You listen to the bickering as it turns from who your favorite is, to who’s the best baker of all things. Each boy takes a bag, and starts heading towards the house. Taking a deep breath, you smile at the man leaning against the door frame.

          Bruce is dressed in jeans and a sweater, a look you prefer to his usual suit. He looks relaxed and happy, something that never fails to fill you with joy. You open your arms again, as he begins walking towards you with his usual smirk.

          When he finally pulls you in for a hug, you take a deep breath, breathing in his scent. He’s big, and warm, and contrary to popular belief, quite cuddly. “I missed you.”

          He just laughs, “I missed you more. The bed is incredibly cold without you in it.”

          You just smile, as you begin walking towards the house. You can hear the boys arguing inside, when all of a sudden your steps falter. Not understanding what’s going on, you start to fall, and as Bruce catches you, the first tingles of pain hit you. And then it’s a searing pain. Sound disappears, and your eyesight starts to go fuzzy. The last thing you see is Bruce’s face, before everything goes black.  

          You wake up to something squeezing your arm. Your mouth is dry, and your head is fuzzy. Opening your eyes, you’re grateful that the lights are dimmed low. Turning your head to the side, you smile at the sight of Bruce. His eyes go a little wide, before he moves forward. He crouches down next to you. “Hey,” he whispers before pushing hair back from your face.

          You voice cracks a bit when you speak, “What happened?”

          “You were shot, by a man who appears to have been stalking you for quite some time. He escaped, but Jim is on the case.” You let out a small groan. Bruce runs a hand over his face, having gathered the meaning, “You knew about him?”

          You nod, “He kept showing up wherever I was. He sent flowers and food. I had my assistant throw everything away. Security went through everything too, there was nothing harmful in any of it, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

          Bruce just nods, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

          “It all started after the Joker had escaped a few months ago. You and the boys were so stressed; I didn’t want to add to that.”

             Bruce’s hand covers yours, “You come first.”

          You give a small smile, “I honestly didn’t think he was a threat.”

          Bruce finally leans in and kisses you, “Next time, please just tell me when you have a stalker.”

          “Deal.”

          It takes a week before the doctors let you out of the hospital. The bullet had just barely missed your spine, and had hit a major artery on its way out. It was only Bruce’s knowledge of how to slow the bleeding that had kept you alive.

          The boys baby you over the next few days, they won’t even let you carry a bowl of soup. About a week after you get home, Jim alerts you that your stalker, and would be killer, had been caught. Caught in a room with pictures of you pasted everywhere. After several psychiatric tests it became clear that he had created a delusional relationship with you after you had complimented him for some computer work he had done in your office.  

          Apparently, you having left the country on the business trip was what set him off. Not being able to see you or observe you had driven him into a more violent psychosis. In the end, he’s sentenced to a stint in Arkham. That doesn’t reassure you, or your boys.

When he turns up dead in his cell one morning, there’s a lot of shuffling in the house. Eyes cut to Jason more often than they should, the curiosity is there but no one is brave enough to actually ask if he had done it.

You do your best to block it from your mind. You know Jason’s code is different than the others. You know he kills, but no one has ever killed for you before and that makes you a little nauseous.

About a week after the murder, you come home to what should be an empty manor. Bruce is at work, Tim and Damian are at school, and Jason and Dick were on a mission. So when you enter the Manor and hear frustrated screaming, you’re more than a little confused.

You follow the sound to the back yard to find Damian attacking a tree with a blade. He’s going at the tree as though it had demanded he go back to the league. As you get closer, you stop at sword’s length away and say, “Damian.”

He freezes mid swing. Slowly he turns to face you. And that’s when you notice. He’s thinner than he should be, there are dark circles under his eyes, and he won’t meet your gaze.

You move forward slowly. Stopping in front of him, you take the sword from his hand, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, he shrugs it off. “Damian,” you whisper. You do it again, and this time he gives into the touch, before the tears start rolling down his cheeks. He collapses into your arms, and you gently sink to the ground with him, tossing the sword to the side.

“It was me.”

You run your fingers through his hair, “What was you?”

“It was me who killed him.”

You freeze, “What?”

He straightens a bit, “I killed the stalker. Todd was going to do it, but I beat him to it. He found me in the cell, he’s the one who got me out, and cleaned up.”

You take a deep breath, “Oh, Damian.”

You pull him closer and you let him cry, “It shouldn’t bother me. I’ve killed before. I killed the entire time growing up, so why does it bother me now? Why?”

You’re not quite sure what to say, “Oh, my baby.”

“I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I can’t lose you. You’re my mom.”

You don’t say anything else, you just pull him in closer, and let him cry.

Mouth o’ Mine

Harry X Reader: Angst, smut

In which Harry’s no good with his words but he sure is good with his mouth.

Request? Yes:

some harry face sitting action maybe?

Author’s note: This is a continuation of “Mess o’ Mine.” I would suggest reading that first, if you haven’t already. I thought this was gonna be the end but then I fucked up so… there’s also a part 3. Hope you enjoy! I did!

Part 1: Mess o’ Mine // Part 3: Mind o’ Mine


You’ve been running through the events that have occurred, confused at the escalation and the outcome. No issues have been resolved, and there wasn’t really a conversation or discussion. You don’t know any more than you did when you heard Harry singing your poems. Has he used your writing in more songs on his album?  Has he read your whole journal? God, you hope not. One poem is bad enough.

Harry hasn’t been around, hasn’t tried calling for the two weeks since he showed up on your doorstep. You’ve flipped the channel whenever he shows up on your television and scrolled at record speed when he’s popped up on your social media feeds. Maybe you should feel relieved and cleansed of his toxicity, but you don’t. Instead, you feel a little broken, like your stomach is splintering into pieces, and your mind still feels split open. Not only that, but you can smell him, feel the weight of him on top of you, taste the foreign flavor of his mouth. This isn’t what you need.

A whole other wave of confusion has rolled over you in terms of your relationship with Harry, if there still is one. The two of you have crossed a line without any prior thought or contemplation. Years upon years of friendship have been threatened, and you’re not even sure how it happened. Why did he kiss you? How did the two of you end up in bed, naked between the sheets? If you were confused about it before, trying to figure things out has only worsened your introspection.

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like real people do p.2 | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off russ’s cherry hill

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zimbits au wherein a run in with the lax bros leads to a run in with jack

Eric’s walking down the street, latte in one hand and phone in the other, only a very little bit lost on his spontaneous scenic detour to the library. He’s halfway through composing a tweet when several air-horns blast in his direction at once.

He swears, jumps about a mile out of his skin, and drops both his coffee and his phone.

The coffee, sadly, goes up before it comes down, and manages to splash all over his front before spilling across his shoes too. He quickly retrieves his phone from the pavement before it’s similarly attacked by the travelling coffee, and checks it over for damage. He sighs out when he sees it’s only a little scratched on the side of the case, and presses a palm to his chest to try and calm the furious beating of his heart.

He looks over to the house across the way, out of which several, men—actually, boys, Eric’s going to call them after that stunt—are laughing at him, and high-fiving each other. Eric flushes and screws his lips together, telling himself not to cry in front of them, not to give them the satisfaction.

“Hey! Dickfaces!”

Eric looks behind him to see a moustached man flipping the bird to the boys in the house across the street.

“Fuck off to your basement of inadequacy and wine coolers, you absolute shitfuckers.”

The boys don’t take his advice, but rather, blast their air-horns again which causes Eric to hunch up his shoulders.

“Hey, brah, you alright?” The man walks up to Eric and looks him over. “Shit, dude. They got you good.”

Eric sighs out, trying to keep his composure. “It’s alright. Thanks for telling them off.”

“Fucking LAX bros. I live for telling them off. Come on inside and I’ll help you clean up.”

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Boss's Orders

Boss’s Orders (m)

Word count: 2.6k

Genre: filth, apparently I have a thing for shameless office sex ;)

I tried a different style of writing for this one… anyway, enjoy.

Originally posted by gotjimin


I was doing some faxing for Mr. Park, my boss. He was making me work late, yet again. He had made me work late a lot these past few weeks. Sometimes a couple of other people were with me but tonight I was the only one left.

He had gotten on to me because one of my reports was messed up. It wasn’t a surprise to me that one out of the twenty I was given, at the same time, was not perfect. Mr. Park always got pretty mad with me for unknown reasons. Or I just was around when he’d need to take his pent up anger out on someone. It was sad that the only reason I put up with him was because I needed this job… and that I was insanely attracted to him. Although, I felt especially attracted to him when he got on to me. There was something about his aggressive, hard voice that made my knees weak and my panties wet. He’d sometimes slam his fist on his desk and i’d have to bit my lip to keep from moaning.

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Writing Prompts

Send me a number and any specific details you might like to see included.

1. Can you just back off?
2. I’m right here, okay? You’re all right.
3. Lock the door.
4. Keep it up and see what happens.
5. Don’t touch me right now.
6. That lipstick’s not gonna stay put for long.
7. Baby, just breathe.
8. This is a terrible idea.
9. For fuck’s sake, just shut up.
10. It’s too early for this.
11. If you keep squeezing that hard, you’ll break my hand.
12. I’m just stressed.
13. What did you break?
14. It’s four A.M.
15. I don’t need you anymore.
16. What an interesting conclusion.
17. And now you’re naked. Okay.
18. What are you wearing?
19. You’re overreacting.
20. I can’t believe you don’t even know my eye color.
21. And you thought I’d be okay with that?
22. You can’t keep doing this.
23. I’m so sorry. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.
24. Why do you smell like smoke?
25. Why do you smell like a walking liquor bar?
26. Why do you smell like perfume?
27. Is there someone else? Don’t lie.
28. You took advantage of me.
29. If you think you’re getting out of this that easily, you’re sadly mistaken.
30. You put us both in danger.
31. I don’t understand you.
32. You’re just asking for it.
33. I could just choke you right now.
34. You are everything to me.
35. This is gonna hurt.
36. I don’t deserve this.
37. You can’t just fix everything with a kiss. This isn’t a booboo.
38. Can you slow down?
39. It feels deeper this way.
40. Did you just stick your fingers in my mouth?
41. Your family is in the other room!
42. I’m begging you.
43. Hey, you’re safe now. It’s over.
44. Where is all of my underwear?
45. I almost died.
46. This isn’t just one of your little jokes.
47. What did you do to your hair?
48. You’re scaring me.
49. I think I drank too much.
50. Well, this was unexpected.
51. It’s too late for that.
52. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
53. It’s your birthday. It is your birthday, right?
54. You’re just gonna leave me here?
55. That’s mine. You’re not taking it.
56. You made that more sexual than it should have been.
57. I’m not just gonna wait around for you.
58. That’s my only clean shirt.
59. Did you use my cologne? You smell like me.
60. I feel like I might be sick.
61. I can’t believe you would do this.
62. Don’t underestimate me. I’m a seasoned pro.
63. Your mom says differently.
64. Did you steal this?
65. I thought I lost you.
66. I think you need a shower.
67. Call an ambulance.
68. I can’t talk about this anymore.
69. Can you put your mouth here?
70. You taste like toothpaste.
71. A little manky-panky.
72. I’m going to absolutely wreck you.
73. Don’t ever say that again.
74. I don’t really care what you think.
75. I can’t do that.
76. This is a train wreck.
77. Do you need some tissues?
78. You can fuck right off.
79. You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?
80. I cannot believe you forgot. This was important to me.
81. If you buy that, I’m leaving you.
82. Can we just start fresh?
83. Don’t forget the condoms!
84. I feel like I’ve been split in two.
85. I’ve never felt anything like that.
86. You’re driving me mad.
87. This is completely different.
88. Can you believe the moon tonight?
89. Wait, why are you crying?
90. You’re making this hard for me.
91. I hope you rot in hell.
92. I think you’re an angel.
93. Do this for me and I’ll do anything you want.
94. I’m gonna take good care of you.
95. Let’s see what you’ve got.
96. I went easy on you.
97. I’m getting better, right?
98. Read my fucking lips.
99. You make me happy.
100. I can feel your heart beating.

Weight

Anon: Can you please do one where lance is self-doubting and staying up really late and training? Like he gets really sick from not sleeping. Like can’t keep anything down sick. It’s okay if you don’t want to do or you already did this already. Please and thank you!

Anon: Maybe something where Lance is getting berrated (idk why) and Keith comes to his defense like in intensness or something.

A/N: When I started writing this, I didn’t intend for it to be so dark. Hot damn. Deep shit ahead. Also, I’m horrible at pet-names. I tried to write from 3rd person Keith instead of omniscient so here we go ᕕ(ツ)ᕗ

It was a particularly depressing mission.

The Blue Paladin had to make a near-impossible choice. Surrender Voltron, or surrender a resource-heavy planet and all its inhabitants. Death wasn’t mentioned in either scenario, but it was very heavily implied. In the end, Lance made the choice to save Voltron on the basis that they would save many many other planets by defeating Zarkon in the long run.

But that didn’t mean a whole planet’s worth of deaths wasn’t weighing on his soul.

Keep reading

stormy nights || stiles stilinski (smut )

word count: 3550

prompt: my smut for lacrosse week!

warnings: smut, swearing

author’s note: this is my first solo smut and i hope you guys like it! let me know if i should keep writing smut. please leave feedback on this!

masterlist

coming soon

Keep reading

Moving on After Fred Weasley Passes Away - Headcanon/Would Include

Warnings: This broke my heart to write):


  • You wouldn’t cry much towards the beginning. Of course when the news hit a barricade of tears fell freely but after that, you learned how to bottle it all up. Everything was so unreal you weren’t even sure if it what was real anymore.
  • Fred was your best friend, your other half, the love of your life.
  • After the Battle of Hogwarts you’d travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s.
  • He was buried shortly after the Battle. His casket was a sleek black color and shined in the rain that fell. You placed a flower on the top of his casket and choked on a shaky sob. George stood behind you and his hand found it’s way into yours, giving you a squeeze of reassurance as he cried with you. You had never felt more lost in your life. Your fingers twiddled with the diamond band wrapped around your finger. It felt more like a piece of mockery, there to remind you everyday of what you could now never have.
  • Molly spent an entire week in the twins’ bedroom. She didn’t talk, hardly ate, just stared blankly at the wall next to Fred’s bed. He had pictures of his Hogwarts adventures taped to the wall and she had memorized every prospect of the photos so much she couldn’t rid the image from her brain when she closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to forget.
  • At the end of the week George entered his and Fred’s bedroom for the first time since the Battle. He spent an hour talking to his mother. You never did find out what he said, but you remember the burning visual of Molly exiting the room with reddened eyes full of heartbreak.
  • Ginny spent the nights sleeping in her room with you and cuddled against your chest, silently weeping to herself. Your presence made her feel close to her late brother, like he had never actually left.
  • George, Molly, and you would clean out Fred’s half of the room. It was full of tears and once happy now sad memories. Like the large maroon tie blanket you had made for Fred on your anniversary. Or the book on Magical Creatures that Fred had stolen on accident in Diagon Alley while he spied on you from behind a bookcase. You were shopping for all your school supplies and the redhead had torn from his family, catching glimpse of you in the robes shop and managed to follow you two stores later not wanting to leave you. You eventually caught him as he tripped over a pile of books, the binds of knowledge cascading to the floor with a crash. You smiled and helped him up while introducing yourself. The rest was history.
  • Arthur stood in the doorway of the room watching the three of you clean. Deep aging wrinkles indented his forehead making him appear older than he really was. His face was long, drowning in sorrow. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
  • Ginny cried alone in her room. Harry tried to comfort her but his success was no avail. She locked herself away for three days, lost in a sea of depression.
  • Ron turned to Harry and Hermione who welcomed him with open arms. He was the first to open up after his older brother’s death.
  • You stayed at the Burrow for a almost three weeks before flying to France. You choice was rash but you needed to get away. Molly understood and wished you well. You didn’t know how long you would be gone but you hoped it would give you some time to come to terms with the heartbreak you were experiencing.
  • Fred used to tell you when you were in school together that he always dreamed of going to France. He never knew why. He was rubbish at speaking French and had no idea how he’d survive, but it was a dream of his.
  • Percy, Bill, and Charlie all stayed at the Burrow for a month or so. Their hearts ached at the lose of their younger brother.
  • George… George no longer felt like himself. It was as if a part of himself was missing, torn from his soul. He dragged through the day’s, closing down the shop for a while. After spending two weeks at the Burrow he moved back to the apartment above Weasley Wizard Wheezes that Fred and him shared. The second he walked through the door he broke down. Tears splashed against his cheeks as he finally let all his emotions pour out. He called you, practically begging you to keep him company.
  • Of course you obliged and flew back home immediately. You lived with Fred in the apartment too. It was your home as well and you had been putting off going back to the apartment as much as possible. The home held so many items from your past involving Fred and you. Where he proposed to you, where you had you first blow up fight, where you had you first time together, where you had the million of talks about your future together, and so much more.  
  • This made Molly feel a little better when she heard you would be staying with George for a while. She hated the thought of George being all along right after losing his best friend, his twin, his other half.
  • You left France still clutching a box full of Fred’s belonging. A heavy feeling invaded your heart. You took a train to London after landing then joined George at the shop.
  • The minute the door swung open George’s arms were thrown around your frame as he pulled you into a tight embrace. The barrier you had been working so hard to uphold, crumbled at his touch. Not because you felt you could finally let go of all the emotions being kept inside. No, you cried because George’s embrace reminded you of Fred’s. The way his hold tighten as you sobbed mirrored Fred’s actions identically. Your chest ached as you came to realize you future with Fred was gone. George’s salty tears splashed on the crown of your head.
  • The first week barely any words at all were exchanged. You would mumble a small ‘good morning’ to each other during breakfast but that was usually it.
  • George spent the days in his room and the nights at a bar across the street. This continued on for a week until you confronted him. You waited up all night, worried sick. He stumbled in around three in the morning, eyes brimming red, breath stenching strong from alcohol.
  • “George Weasley, what the hell?” You would screeched. His eyes snapped up at you resembling a deer caught in headlights. His gazed quickly fell to the floor as he shut the house door and brushed past you. You yelled after him making him halt in his path,
  • “George pease just talk to me! I know this is hard for you, believe me I do. He was your brother. You two have never been apart so I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. George I’m here for you and you can talk to me because I lost him too. You did everything with Fred, you two started this business together and we both know he just wants you to be happy again. Please… just try, George. Try for me, try for Fred. Please. I just want to be here for you. If there’s something I did. If you hate me-” Your voice broke at the end and your knees gave up. Crashing to the floor a echoing cry invaded the air. George stood motionless watching you fall apart before his eyes. He could almost hear Fred scolding him and urging him to act. Fred would want George to comfort you, Fred would want you two to be there for each other.
  • George hesitantly crossed the room and bent to your level. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of messy hair from your face. Glancing up at him you started in to question him but George beat you around the bush. He seemed half sobered up and shook his head.
  • “Y/n… it’s not you, I swear. You’re the most purest human being in the entirety of the world, please don’t think that way. Every moment you and Fred were together I could never shake that from my mind, how perfect you are. But god Y/n every time I see you I think of my brother. He loved you more than anything in this world and I know he would hate me right now for not being there for you. I feel like I’ve let him down and that hurts more than anything. I see Fred everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I see the pictures on the fridge, everytime I walk into the shop, everytime I come home and everytime I see you.”
  • His words took you by storm but for once, it made sense. You had been sleeping in Fred and your bed, helping start the shop back up (mainly by yourself), and it probably didn’t help that you had been stealing items of Fred’s clothing, just wanting to be close to him again. For the first time since the Battle, you admitted the burden you’d been holding inside.
  • “I wish I could’ve saved him. If I wasn’t distracted by the helping that student- if I would have been paying more attention to Fred… he’d still be here.” You quivered. George’s eye soften and he shook his head.
  • “Y/n you know no one could’ve stopped what happen. I’ve spent every night laying awake wondering if I could’ve changed something. I’m not sure what god planned this, or if there even is one, but Y/n we had no control over this.” His arms locked around you pulling you against his chest. His lips planted against your forehead sweetly covering you in a blanket of comfort.
  • You spent the rest of the night in George’s arm. You shared memories of Fred, some sweet, some funny, and some that made you cry again.
  • “Remember the time the two of you enchanted endless snowballs to pelt, well technically, Voldemort in the face and Quill in the back of the head?” You giggled into the glass of cherry red wine you held to your lips. George leaned into the cushion of the couch and shook his head with a smile. 
  • “Classic!”
  • George spent the night in Fred and your bed- to keep you company of course.
  • He kept you company for the rest of the nights to follow
  • The two of you began to drift into a weird zone
  • You had always lightly fancied George but it was Fred you loved.
  • He would randomly start bringing you home flowers and other small gifts
  • Some days George would come home to find a bundled up new sweater placed on his work desk. You always claimed the things you bought him were on sale so you just couldn’t resist but George knew better
  • A strong connection was growing and it confused you- George too. You wanted another shot at happiness but you weren’t sure if you were ready yet until another vacant Friday night rolled around and you found yourself laying on the couch in George’s arm talking about the week and before you knew it he was leaning forward.
  • The first time you kissed George you screwed your eyes shut tightly and imagined his lips as Fred’s. You knew it was horrible but you had no clue what else to do. It was like you were cheating on your fiance- your dead fiance, with his twin brother. But when you realized it was George, you didn’t entirely hate it. It was actually quite a fulfilling kiss. A part from inside of you warmed up for the first time in a long time.
  • George had a sickening vibe settling in the pit of his stomach after he pulled back. His heart sped up at the newfound affection the kiss brought although kissing you made him feel like he was betraying his brother. Fred planned to marry you for Merlin’s sake and there George was, making out with his dead twin’s girlfriend.
  • But you kissed him again the next day and he didn’t pull away
  • And the next
  • And the one after that too
  • Kissing you made George think of his brother. Fred loved you and George could understand why. Kissing you, sleeping beside you, comforting you, it all made George feel as if he was somehow growing closer to his twin.
  • At first your relationship with George was based solely on the fact that he was identical to your late lover but as time passed on George made you feel differently than Fred did. Despite you never thinking it was possible, George taught you how to laugh again. He would slowly crack back into his prankster self again. It took his almost a full year after Fred’s passing to invent a new product for the shop or even enter the store for more than passing to get to the apartment. He tested out the product on you during breakfast one morning. Pouring a lilac solution into the base of your black coffee and giving it a swirl, George carried on with breakfast as if nothing had happen. Dragging in, you hugged George from behind before taking a seat at the nook. You instantly sipped on the brewed mixture in front of you and spit it out in shock as the odd flavor set in.
  • George howled in laughed and bent over the kitchen stove pointing towards you. Furrowing your eyebrows you set the mug down and spoke up agitated,
  • “George what the hell did you put in- oh my god!”
  • You realized the change in tone quickly and covered your face in embarrassment. Your voice was as deep as a well making you sound similar to that of a male that had spent over half his life heavily smoking. George rushed over and planted a kiss to your cheek.
  • “It worked!” Although you were thoroughly ticked off at his choice of targeting you, you were happy he was back to his old ways. The bills were piling up by the second and the landlord wanted the shop either back up and running, or both of you to move out. Dumping your infected cup of coffee down the sink drain you started to make a new batch. Smiling to yourself you laughed softly,
  • “Well, I’m glad to have you back, George.”
  • That was only the beginning. George and you spent almost every moment inventing and creating new sale items. The first handful were absolute rubbish but it didn’t matter. Both of you were trying to get back in the swing of things and sometimes that took a while.
  • Within three months Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back up and running again.
  • Sales flooded in and shot straight through the roof steadily for a long term.
  • As a ‘thank you’ present for helping him get back on his feet George invited you out for a fancy meal out on the town.
  • You decided on a Muggle restaurant and dressed to the nines. George’s jaw skimmed the floor when you walked out of your room and slipped on your heels. He held your hand and escorted you out.
  • During dinner you had ntoiced how fidgety and nervous George was acting. You made the choice to question him on it over a glass of champagne right before the main course and he physically stiffened. Tilting his glass back, George chugged down the large intake and wiped his lips on the red amber napkin. His hands clasped together then unclasped at his side. His soft eyes found yours and he darted them back down to the tablecloth.
  • “It’s just- well, Y/n… what are we?”
  • It would get silent very fast and he would instantly fill it.
  • “What I mean is, I like you… I like you a lot but I know how you felt about my brother. I saw the glint in your eyes that would sparkle whenever you saw him and how happy you two were together and Y/n I want to be able to make you as happy as Fred did. With that being said I don’t want you to be with me because I remind you of him or because you can’t stop thinking about Fred. I’m not gonna lie at the start of our, uh, relationship I was hanging out with you because you made me think of Fred but all those late nights and million cups of coffee have made me realize the truth. I love you Y/n- and not because you dated my brother. I love you for you and I think I have for a very long time. What I’m asking is… Y/n would you um, like to be my girlfriend?”
  • You cried, a lot. George’s heart broke at the sight only confirming the love swelling in his heart. His feelings were genuine and it warmed your soul. You lunged across the table knocking over the bread bowl in the process and threw your arms around George’s frame.
  • “Of course I will! Oh my god, George. You’re making me cry like a bloody fool!”
  • George called his mother the second you got home. Molly was hit with a wave of shock at first. She gave both of you long speeches trying to inspect if the love was real or a mask to feign the hurt of bonding over the lose of Fred. She demanded both of you come home to the Burrow for the week so you did and the moment she looked into both of your eyes, it was clear as crystal.
  • “Good lord you are in love!”
  • It was hard for the rest of the Weasley family to accept at first. You understood completely since you had the same weary, unsure feeling as well but eventually they came to accept it. They were all happy to you and George happy once again.
  • But as happy as you were, small memories with Fred would constantly pop up.
  • Like one night when George and you were lying in bed together whispering softly realization would settle in and you’d comment,
  • “This is where he proposed. We were lying right here when Fred asked me to marry him.”
  • You knew how horrid it was to put this on George but you had no control. George thought about this all the time and was reminded of your relationship with his brother at every corner he turned.
  • You would then apologize feeling god awful for saying such a thing but George would hush you saying,
  • “It’s alright Y/n. Just because he’s not around anymore and because we’re together now doesn’t mean we have to pretend he was never alive or your relationship with him didn’t exist. He loved you, and I know how much you love him. I’m not upset- actually I’m more than thankful my brother managed to snag a girl like you. You two were perfect together and he will always love you just like how you will always love him. Fred… he is… was my brother and for a long time I thought he would hate me for me being with you and for a long time I thought my heart tricked me into loving you. That maybe it wasn’t love I was feeling but rather so the relationship my brother and I had and maybe because he loved you so much, being with you would make me feel less lonely about losing him but I know the truth. I love you, Y/n. Hell, maybe I always have but the important thing is I love you now and I will love you tomorrow and I will continue to love you years from now and that’s not because of Fred, it’s because of you and who you are. I love you.”
  • You two learned how to live your life no longer feeling guilty for the love you shared. Fred smiled down his heart warming at seeing his two favorite people in the world relying on each other and sharing a piece of their heart together.
  • He proposed to you in the middle of a busy work day right as you were restocking a shelf. The rest of his family were there to see. Molly, Hermione and Ginny cried a river while the boys patted George on the back. On your wedding day the tears were never ending, though happy ones.
  • You two eventually moved to London- kept the shop but decided you needed more room, well of course your growing stomach demanded that. One cold night in the middle of December George and you were blessed with the birth of your first son, Fred ll. He had a head of wicked red hair and a small mischievous smile toying on his face and you had never felt more complete in your life. George planted a kiss to your head muttering a string of ‘thank yous’. You knew in your heart this was exactly where you were meant to be.

- Daizy xx

Tom Holland x Reader: Apartment

Summary: You and Tom Holland are neighbors in the same apartment complex. You have a crush on him, he has a girlfriend. What could go wrong? You could think of five separate incidents.

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 7,132


No 1: the coffee maker incident (which was all harrison’s fault)

The moment your knuckles leave the door it’s already swinging back, revealing a face flushed with relief. Tom Holland’s eyes flutter closed, leaning his head against the door frame and looking up at you through his lashes with a smile plastered on his face.

“Oh thank god you actually came. You’re good at fixing things, right?” he asked, ushering you into his apartment before hearing your answer. You’re a little reluctant to enter, thinking that you’ll somehow track mud across his pristine white carpet, or smudge a stain on his suede chairs that weren’t in there the last time you’d been over.

“I’m good at putting Ikea furniture together, if that’s what you mean,” you call after him as you hop around on one foot, attempting to slide your boots off without appearing like a fool. You look around once more, taking in the features of Tom’s place.

You can’t say you like what he’s done. There are too many colors; blues and yellows that are too bold, an abundance of throw pillows against a couch that you swear your parents had gushed over in a Rooms-To-Go catalog. None of it looks like him, and you have an inkling as to why, but you keep your mouth shut as you follow the sound of two voices into his kitchen.

“You help me with my T.V all the time. Are you good with stuff like this?” Tom inquires, looking at you over his shoulder. He’s standing in front of something, hunched over the island in the center of the room. On his left, staring at you over his mug, Harrison is sipping away on something.

There’s a smug look in his blue eyes that makes you want to tip his drink onto his shirt, but instead you ignore him, standing on Tom’s right. In front of you is a simple small coffee maker; not a Keurig, but something akin, you could imagine.

“What’s wrong with it?” you question, looking around the top and sides for damage. Tom has his knuckle in his mouth, looking worriedly at the device in front of him. You’ve never seen such an anxious look on his face and it makes your brows crease. “Tom?”

“Hm?” he says, snapping his eyes back to you. The normally sparkling brown hues are muddy, clouded with something you can’t identify. “It’s just… I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I noticed it was out of water and I went to refill it, but when I pressed the button, it wouldn’t make anything.”

Perplexed, you flipped open the lid, seeing nothing wrong. You checked the coffee ground compartment, seeing a pierced, but otherwise unused k-cup sitting in there. With crossed arms, you pressed the power button again, just to be certain.

The three of you watched as the machine’s light started to blink. You cut your eyes over to Tom, wondering what kind of stunt he was pulling. Opening your mouth to speak, you were cut off by the red light blinking out, only for nothing else to happen.

“See!” Tom cried out, fisting his hands in his hair. It curled out of his fist, making two small pony tails at the top of his head. Your eyes narrowed, realizing just how much his hair had grown in the past few months. You hadn’t seen too much of him to have a decent comparison, but you remembered it being much shorter.

“—just wait till she comes home and sees this broken! She’s going to kill me!” Your heart drops into your stomach, limbs suddenly feeling heavy. The coffee maker belonged to his girlfriend. You nodded, now understanding why he had sounded so urgent when he’d called you.

“You’re fucking Spider-Man, ya? Just go out and buy a new one with all that Marvel money,” Harrison pointed out, rolling his eyes as he took another sip of his drink. “She won’t even know the difference.”

“They don’t even make this stupid model anymore, she’s going to know it’s broken. And I didn’t even break it!” he exclaimed, his voice shaking with worry. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to calm the hell down, that’s what,” you chided, resting your hands on Tom’s shoulders. He relaxed under your touch, walking backwards as you steered him onto a bar stool. “It’s not the end of the world, dude, just breathe,” you reminded him, watching as his chest heaved heavily. Your hands felt warm as they slid down his arms, coming to rest on the island as you examined the coffee maker.

You drained it of its water, checking the main compartment for any irregularities. Immediately you noted a white film around the sides, and you paused, looking from the sink, to the device, and finally at Harrison.

“Harrison? What are you drinking?” you asked, pulling your phone from your back pocket and shining the flashlight down to the bottom.

“Hot chocolate,” he replied carefully, eyes darting between you and Tom. Peering down, you carefully wiped your finger against the bottom of the compartment, your nails scratching against a hard surface, coated with something.

“Haz, there’s no pot in the sink, or in the dishwasher. What—HAZ!” Tom growled, having put the pieces together. “Did you put milk in the coffee maker?”

“I mean, yeah,” he admitted a not-so-guilty look across his face. “It was sitting right there, and it was faster than heating up a pot.”

“Ah-ha,” you chuckled, closing one eye to look down into the coffee maker. “That would explain this weird shit covering the bottom of this thing.” You gave a pointed look at Harrison, who hadn’t even tried to look remorseful. “You do realize that when you don’t clean up heated milk, it leaves a hard coating on metal. This coffee maker basically has a hot plate that boils the water and then sucks in into a tube. My best guess it that the milk hardened, and the water can’t get through,” you assessed.

“Well how do we fix it?” Tom asked, crossing his arms and looking at you. He seemed to believe you had all the answers, and you bit your lip to hold back you stutters. You didn’t want to disappoint him, to make him think you weren’t the person for the job.

Cutting your eyes over at Harrison, you gave him a pointed look; you made it look reprimanding, but it was really to wipe the smirk off his face. He’d had a smug look since the moment you walked in and it bothered you, making the tips of your ears feel hot.

“Well for starters, don’t do it again,” you bit out, glaring daggers at Harrison. He didn’t reply, but he did walk out of the room, shrugging his shoulders as he walked behind you.

Tom noted the fixed stares you gave him, but said nothing of it. You pursed your lips before looking at the brunette, holding out your hand and asking for a knife.

He blinked, warily pulling out a butter knife and placing it into your palm. You frowned at it, turning it over in your hands. “I need a sharper one.”

Tom raised a brow, hazel eyes glimmering with suspicion. You snorted, wondering if he was actually afraid of you with a knife.

“What, you think I’m going to kill you or something?” You joked. You wondered for a moment if your joke was too dark for a guy who was just your neighbor, but he eventually chuckled, handing you a knife with a sharp, long blade. You gave him your phone, and asked him to shine it down into the machine. Silently, with the two of your heads close together, you both bowed your heads with work to do.

This was an awkward fifteen minutes. Every now and then Tom would pick his eyes up and watch as your face scrunched in concentration. Your lips would part as an almost inaudible curse passed through, making him laugh a bit. Every time you felt him move you would try not to catch his gaze, attempting to discreetly look at him. You could feel how close he was and it felt wrong that your heart was beating so fast, or that you couldn’t breathe.

After what felt like hours, you retracted, taking the machine to the sink to wash it out. You filled it and plugged it back in, waiting patiently with a mug as you started it.

Tom looked as though he was holding a breath, and sure enough, when the coffee streams out he sighed, leaning against the counter with his entire weight, looking as though he’s been saved from the fires of hell.

He turns, eyes shining in praise as he gushed a bunch of rushed thank you’s, his accent slurring everything together. You’re really just nodding and smiling, telling him that it’s fine and no big deal. You’ll tell yourself anything to get rid of the hammering in your chest, louder than construction work as you feel blood rush to your face.

“I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.” He sounds like he’s speaking about your presence in general, but that can’t be true. All you’ve ever done for him was put together furniture and now fix his coffee maker, but he seems to like you, as a friend and neighbor. Which you’ll take.

“It’s no problem at all Tom. And it’ll be less of a problem if I can have this,” you pull the mug away, bringing the rich black coffee to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Do you want to stay for a bit? I feel like you’re always in and out, and-“ his words die as his cell phone rings, the ringtone that default sound that makes you jump. He takes it, holding his hand up apologetically, but you shake your head. You weren’t going to stay anyways.

Grabbing your things, you pass Harrison, who looks pretty comfortable on a couch that isn’t his, sipping on the last of his hot chocolate. He smiles when you walk by, but it’s a knowing one, as though he can read your thoughts. You scoff, but before you can get your shoes back on, Harrison says, “You should be thanking me.”

That really riles you up, and you laugh, a forced, sarcastic thing. “For what?”

“If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be making any moves.” There’s a wink, but you don’t really care to return his comment. You strain out a “Bye, Harrison,” before closing the door and leaning your back against it.

The cup in your hand is scorching your palm, but you smile regardless. Another reason to knock on Tom’s door. 


No. 2: The incident where you meet his girlfriend and things go wrong

You had this sick feeling in your gut that toady wasn’t the best day to bring back the mug you borrowed from Tom. It was simply the day after, the most reasonable time to drop by and say, “hey, I forgot I took this” without seeming like you harbored it, or cast a spell on it. The little thing sat neatly in your hands, cradled gently as though it was made of crystal.

Your knock was verging on two minutes ago, so you decided to go again, wondering briefly if you should say his name. Calling him may have been a bad idea, but before you could form his name, the door swung back, revealing a brunette that was not Tom.

His girlfriend’s caramel colored hair was a cascade of freshly made curls, evident from the fact that her makeup and outfit were already complete. She lacked shoes, and a sense of hospitality, sizing you up like bully on a playground. When she reached your eyes, you balked, deciding whether it was better to state your purpose, or just drop the item near her feet and scram.  

It would have been much easier for her as well, until Tom caught your eyes from farther behind her. “Y/N?” he questioned, but excitedly, as though he was happy to see you. That made his girlfriend’s lip curl into a sneer, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Oh, uh,” you started, wanting so bad to bolt, but transfixed by Tom’s smile and gentle demeanor. He was dressed, indicating that he was probably going out. And from the progress they both had on their outfits, you could guess it was possible they were going on a lunch date.

You felt foolish, your heart drooping in your chest as you resigned yourself to stick with the plan. What did you expect, that his girlfriend would just magically be missing every time you came into his apartment? A dumb idea, one fueled by your fluttering heart, but also by your jealous mind.

“I accidentally took this last time I was here. Sorry,” you said, holding the cup out to the girl. She dropped her eyes to the cup, but made no moves to take it from you. Her hands stayed rooted on the door, and you felt like you could melt under her scrutinizing gaze.

Tom saved you, however, taking the cup from your hands with care, wrapping his hand around it. Your hands brushed each other’s, and your fingertips felt so warm and fiery, igniting your nerves in flames. You looked up to send him a smile, but you caught the look his girlfriend gave you.

Her blue eyes startled you, being so wide and so angry at the same time. Her perfect nails seemed to dent into the metal door as she gripped it with all her might. Her posture was rigid, feet set apart in a fighting stance. You thought her unoccupied hand was going to reach out and punch your teeth out.

The silent threat made you jump, the ware slipping from your fingers and smashing to the floor before you had time to react. You could only pull your feet away and watch in horror as it fell on its handle, small shards of grey porcelain scattering across the floor.

You want to cry, curl up beside the shards and be swept away into a dust bin, you’re so mortified. To your right, she’s smiling a little, resting her hand on Tom’s shoulder as she proceeds to ask if he’s okay. She tiptoes to look over his shoulder, as though she wasn’t standing feet away when it happened. Milking the moment, you catch the glint in her eyes when she rubs his back, saying that she’ll get a broom.

Tom nods, saying a faint, “okay babe,” before he’s taken aback by the kiss she plants on his cheek. You note the pink mark it’s left, a small, but powerful reminder that he’s taken, and that no matter how shy and polite and cute and neighborly you are, there’s nothing you can do about it.

She casts a look that is part sinister and part mocking over her shoulder, but it turns into surprise as the door closes, Tom stepping out into the hall. He’s got his hands behind his back as the door clicks shut, leaving the two of you in the hall.

“Sorry about that, I don’t know how that happened.” He rubs the back of his neck now, as if he’s really considering the idea that he might have done this.

“No, you have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who broke it, I should be cleaning it up, I,” your head is fixed towards the ground, unable to meet his gaze. You really just want to walk away, but it was hard, with him so close to you, his height and yours almost the same. There’s no need for tilted heads when every time you look up, it’s just his eyes on yours, and it makes you so frustrated.

“I’m really sorry about this, I promise I’ll get you another one.” In some really nice universe, this is the part where Tom chuckles and says “You don’t have to do that. Just go on a date with me and we’re even.”

But this is not a nice universe. It’s not even close. This universe is horrible and cruel, laughing at your pitiful crush on a taken British boy and your shitty attempts at being his friend.

This universe sucks, so you leave him with that half assed promise and run down the stairs, not looking back as he calls your name.


 No. 3: the incident where you hear something you shouldn’t have (but always wanted to know)

It’s late, and probably your own fault that you’re miserable and at home and have to watch a fucking slideshow about Roswell, New Mexico. The lights are mostly off in your apartment, save for three little hanging lights above your kitchen counter. One sole bottle of Heineken is untouched, probably warm since your friend left over two hours ago for her date.

And now, with a pounding headache and an impossibly bad mood, you felt your limit snap as loud shouts and a bumping bass sounded from Tom’s apartment. He wasn’t a rowdy guy, and his girlfriend didn’t seem like the type to annoy the neighbors at ten pm, but you could think of a certain blonde that would.  

It had been weeks after ‘the breaking of the mug’, weeks of building back the confidence to look Tom in the eyes, and weeks of him being crazy nice to you. He was always asking you to come over, wanting to make up for how bad your last encounter was. Eventually you both settled back into a comfortable friendship, but that only persisted as long as his girlfriend wasn’t around.

After another week of that arrangement, you felt guilty, almost as though you were doing something forbidden. You remembered the shame and palpable tension in the room that occurred every time she came home to find the two (or three, there was no way she could get rid of Harrison) inside. Almost any conversation would drop, and you would leave, giving him a curt goodbye.

It was dumb, it was strenuous and it was so unnecessary. But it felt exciting.

You swallowed that excitement down fast, knowing that there was nothing between you two. You were neighbors, and finally friends; you weren’t going to ruin it because of your unrequited crush on him.

The pounding in your head increased when you heard with clarity and annoyance the repetitive yell of shots. The song seemed to shake your entire apartment and you growled, stomping over and banging on Tom’s door with your fist.

“Hey! It’s a fucking Thursday night!” you yelled, despite your normal timid manner. You seriously just wanted to fall straight asleep and head to work tomorrow and make a final decision on this location. You were losing time and patience and the capacity to care when a face split into a wide grin upon seeing you at the door.

“Hey hey, Y/N!” Harrison’s blue eyes were unfocused and shiny, his smile too big for his face. He stumbled to grab your arm, his grip much tighter as he used all his strength to pull you in.

“Guys, look who I found!” The word “guys” had you at unease, but you surveyed the people around you carefully. You would know the Spider-Man cast anywhere, and Tom’s apartment was definitely a place where you’d seen them the most.

Tony and Jacob both had on tilted ball caps, and when Tony ran to hug you it fell off. “Oh thank god you’re hear Y/N!” he hiccuped, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “Our man Tom has something to tell you.”

The room dissolved into giggles. It sounded like a first grade classroom, their laughter so innocent and playful. The only boy who didn’t seem to be partaking in the fun was Tom, his lips set in a pout as he shoved Jacob weakly.

“Knock it off, boys,” he told them his voice sharp against theirs. He didn’t appear to be as drunk as they were, but the goofy grin that followed proved otherwise.

After another round of laughter, you tried to shrug Tony away from you, but he was heavier without full control over his body. You felt uncomfortable being around four drunk men, who were all stronger than you. Despite knowing that they meant well, the entire situation read badly.

“Tony, please get off me,” you mumbled, which seemed to earn his attention. He stood up straight, raising his arm up mechanically. You took a step back, holding your arms to make yourself small. “Guys, I get that you’re having fun, but I have work to finish, so can you-“

“You’re a location scout, right?” Jacob asks in the moment of lucidity. You nod, watching warily as Jacob stands, holding his hand out to you.

“Jacob Batalon, best actor in this room. If you’re ever in a pinch for actors, you know where to find me.”

“Jacob,” you said slowly, your handshake becoming too long. “We’ve met before.”

“Best actor in the room? Tom has a fucking BAFTA!” Harrison argued over the music, but you both paid no mind to him.

“Uh, I think I’d know if I met anyone as pretty as you. At least, I think you are. I can’t really see, but you’re Y/N, right?”

“Jacob,” you sighed, exasperated. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you were halfway to launching into an explanation before he cut you off.

“Tom’s been going off about this Y/N girl. She lives across the street or something. I’m like, Tom, dude, amigo. How do you know if she’s pretty if she’s all the way over there?” He pointed out the window and you frowned, wondering just what in the world he was on about.

“Jacob I know you! I live next door.” He snapped his fingers loudly, looking back at Tony with wide eyes.

“Tony! It’s the girl, the one Tom mmhmm-“ Harrison covered Jacob’s mouth with his hands, trying to sit him back down. You raised a brow, looking between the four of them before sighing.

“Clearly I’m not getting anything through to you, so I’ll just do it myself.” You huffed, turning to what you believed was the source of the booming music. A stack of black rectangular sound systems sat on a shelf below Tom’s T.V, each of them appearing to be on. In the background, yelling had ensued, with Jacob’s mouth finally free of Harrison’s grip. You paid no mind as you decided to simply turn the volume down. You twisted the dial a little too far, making the music so quiet, that their shouts became clearer.

“Why the hell not! You’re not going to have any other chance!”

“Your girlfriend dumped you, now is the perfect time to tell her!”

“And say what? ‘Hey Y/N, I’ve been in love with you since the day we met’?”

It kept going, not even missing a beat as the four boys started piling shout after shout on top of the others. You, however, had your hands over your mouth, slowly rising to stand up. Your mind tried to process the words in the order you heard them in, making sure it matched what you thought. Your heart felt like it would leap from your chest, knees knocking as you struggled to understand.

Tom liked you. He had since the day you met. And he didn’t plan on telling you.

It was news to you that his girlfriend was no more, but even bigger than that was the idea that each of his friends already knew that he was in love with you. That sentiment seemed like common knowledge, considering its blunt outburst hadn’t shocked anyone to silence.

Suddenly Harrison’s cheeky winks and Tom’s bright smiles seemed more than just coincidences. You wanted to run up to Tom and tell him that you felt the same way, that he meant more to you than just a neighbor or a friend. You felt your heart clench as you realized that those words were never meant to be presented like this. You weren’t supposed to know.

In some nice universe Tom would tell you over another shared mug of coffee, or an a first date somewhere sweet and thoughtful. In some nice universe you could kiss him for saying that, and he’d kiss you back.

But this was not some nice universe, and this shit always happened. You let yourself out, sliding back against the cold metal door and letting out a sob that had been working its way through your chest.

Perhaps that nice universe would only ever be a daydream


No. 4: the incident where the tables have turned

Not but two days after the drunken episode, you walked up the stairs to find Tom, sitting outside his apartment like a lost puppy. He bounced his phone on one knee, the other keeping his forehead up as he scrolled through his phone. After a moment he locked it, turning his head to see you, dazed and confused.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his loud voice reminding you of Thursday night, and the deflated way he had yelled your name, saying that he was in love with you. You were starting to believe it; you could see his eyes light up whenever they found you, a small but genuine smile tilting his lips upward. For someone who had just lost a significant other, Tom seemed pretty much in one piece.

Maybe because you were the one seeing him.

Nevertheless, you raised an eyebrow in silent question, to which Tom sheepishly smiled. “I seem to have locked myself out of my own apartment,” he told you, standing up and shoving his hands in his pockets. He was well cleaned up, considering the last time you’d seen him he was smashed beyond compare.

Before you even had the thought of stopping, you blurted, “Doesn’t your girlfriend have a key?”

It was like kicking a puppy; a small, adorable little puppy that only wanted your attention for half a second. The mirth drained out of his face and his eyes quickly dropped to the floor. His hands swung aimlessly by his side. You wanted to take it back, say you were sorry or that you forgot, but you weren’t even supposed to know in the first place.

“Alice and I broke up,” he sighed, and all you could think was ‘So her name was Alice.’

You tried to morph your face into sympathy and surprise, but you weren’t sure how well you pulled it off. “Oh, shit Tom, I’m sorry,” you expressed, wanting to reach out and touch his shoulder, but withholding yourself. Pretending you didn’t know about his feelings for you was so difficult, and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you to be flirty or drop hints, but for some reason that was all you wanted to do: wrap your arms around him, tell him he’d be fine, and remind him that you were next door if he needed you.

In some nice universe that would work, but this wasn’t time or place.

“My spare key is with Harrison, surprise surprise,” Tom joked, which you smiled at.

“You’re never going to see that key again,” you laughed, bringing back a sliver of a smile to the man’s face. He looked better with it, you thought, doing nothing for the butterflies in your stomach. Your laughter calmed down enough for you to shrug. “You can come stay at my place until he gets here, if you don’t have anything to do.”

His eyes widened, but he hid it by raising his left brow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“Considering it returning the favor. Besides, I’m always in your apartment. We need a change of scenery.” You unlocked your door, coming into your apartment with tense shoulders. Tom had never been in here before, and there was a reason for that. His presence in your apartment would gradually become less and less strange, making him just a part of your home than the couch or the curtains. You didn’t want him to be so familiar that it seemed like he belonged here, because he didn’t. He belonged in his nice white apartment, far away from whatever you had going on here.

There wasn’t much. You weren’t a minimalist, but you preferred less pillows and decorations than actual furniture. The colors were mostly neutral blues and greys, with red here or there. Along the walls were huge posters of cities you’d visited for work. Ashville, Slab City, Roswell, and other obscure towns were littered across your living room, and when you looked back you noticed Tom was staring at all of them.

“You’ve been to all these places?” he inquired, awe lacing his voice. You were shocked by his curiosity, considering he travelled all the time for his job. His face was fixed on the posters, before catching the little framed photos around the bookshelves. “Holy shit, is that you?”

He had the frame in his hand now, and judging from it, you were sure he was indulging himself in staring at a truly mortifying high school photo of yours. “Who are these people?” he pointed, and you grimaced.

“High school friends, if you couldn’t tell by our bad fashion choices,” you groaned, coming up beside him and studying the picture. You were in the middle, as you often were in group photos because everyone was taller than you. It didn’t particularly matter in this instance; you were squatting down, your hands clasped as if in prayer, staring down the camera with a smirk. Above you, four of your friends had lifted up the shortest girl in your group, perching her on their shoulders. It looked like a dysfunctional human pyramid.

“I don’t think I have a picture of me and my mates half as cool as this,” Tom remarked, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You think that’s cool? I think we were more crazy than cool,” you spoke wistfully, setting the picture back down. “I’m not even sure why I keep that around. It doesn’t really fit in with this whole thing,” you gestured wildly, pointing at the dozens of colorful photos. Tom’s eyes landed wherever your finger pointed, until the rested back on you.

“Which one of these is your favorite?” he asked, turning in a circle to view every landscape. You put a finger to your lips, eyeing each one carefully, until you landed on one filled with green and purple.

“I took this in Glasgow, about four years ago,” you stated, standing beside a quite large picture of a sprawling field of bluebells. “First time scouting overseas, and a studio needed pictures of old woods to use as concept art. I was with a senior photographer on this one, but he let me take the shots they eventually used.” You glanced up at the photo in reverence, before looking over to Tom.

His face expressed pure adoration, and you found that his eyes rested more so on you than the photo. He seemed to be in a trance, only snapped out of the daze a minute after you’d stopped talking. He tried to shake the grin off, but it was too late. So he went with it, smiling even wider.

“Wow. I’ve been to Scotland before, and I knew it was beautiful. But that?” he threw his hands down and you laughed at his gesture. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“You just have to know where to look. I know I never would have found this place if David wasn’t so familiar with Glasgow,” you told him, heading into the kitchen for drinks. “Next time, take someone who knows what to look for.”

“Maybe I should take you.” It was supposed to be mumbled under his breath, just a wish he kept to himself, but he let his guard down. You heard him, freezing as you stuck your head into the fridge, thanking the heavens that you had a cover for your burning face. You wanted to turn around and tell him yes; absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent were you on board with going anywhere with him. You wanted to joke that you’d pack your luggage right then and there, that between two seasoned travelers like you, there was sure to be a discount somewhere.

But all you could do was force down the thoughts, grabbing two cokes from the fridge before pressing them to your face. You turned to Tom and smiled, a restrained, glowing thing that startled him, for he hesitantly stepped towards you.

“Maybe you should. Glasgow is one of my favorite places. I’d be happy to show you around.” You hoped you didn’t come off as anything other than friendly, but knowing the situation you were both in, there was no telling his response.

Tom just blinked, his face like a deer in headlights. Suddenly his face was tinted in pick and he smiled, looking down at his shoes bashfully. “I don’t know when we’d ever do it,” he commented, rooting you two back in the reality, the place where you both had jobs to do and obligations to others. But it had been nice, dreaming of Scotland with Tom. Perhaps it would come true.

There was a calm silence that settled in between the conversation, which was ripped away when Tom’s cell rang. He picked it up with reluctance, before making a face at the id. “Haz you better be downstairs or else I’m hanging up.” There was a bit of yelling on the other side, Harrison’s voice distorted by the traffic outside. Tom listened for a moment more before nodded, cutting his eyes over to you.

“Yeah, you can just open yourself, you’re always there anyways,” he quipped, ending the line before sighing. “Sorry, that was Haz, he’s here with my key.” Every word he said sounded breathless, a string of words in an almost incomprehensible British accent and an apology mixed in somewhere. You smiled, before jumping up.

“Oh! Before I forget,” you babbled, reaching into a packed kitchen cabinet for something. You stood on the tips of your toes, reaching for a turned handle before it landed gracefully in your palm. You smiled, handing it over to the dumbfounded man over the counter.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning over the red and blue designed cup. “Is this for me?”

“Yeah! I told you I was going to get you a new mug, I didn’t say what it would look like though.” You bit your lip, wondering if a Spider-Man mug was really the way to go in this situation. In addition to playing the wen head, you knew he had an affinity for the character as well, hoping the combined coincidences would lead him to like it.

He pressed it into his palms, turning it over in the daintiest of ways. He clutched it tight, as though he might break it from just breathing on it. When he picked his head up, you noted the watery glimmer in his brown eyes, which he tried his hardest to blink back. There were so many small things about Tom that made your heart flutter, but you didn’t have time to study them all.

“Thank you,” his small voice took you from your thoughts. “That was really sweet of you. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” you relied firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I couldn’t live with myself if I never replaced it. Seriously, take it,” you told him, seeing as he was unwilling to leave with it. He stared at it a little while longer before he jolted, a buzzing sounding from his back pocket.

“Harrison’s here, I should, uh,” He stammered out, slowly taking some steps back. You nodded, giving him a slight wave and then headed back to the kitchen. You didn’t look up until you heard the door open, and then click shut, the air in your apartment much colder than it had been.

You stared around, wondering if you could find differences in your home now that Tom had been inside it. Your old theory was clearly correct, because your place had never felt so lonely and empty since you’d moved in. With a frown, you stared at the picture of Glasgow, wondering if in some other time and place, it was taken by you and Tom.


No.5: the incident where everything becomes clear

You actually burst into his apartment, a loud banging noise that sounds like it belongs in a movie. You’re too dramatic, and for reasons only you can understand.

Two heads turn, almost in sync. Blue eyes stare your form up and down, a quirk in his brows, while Tom just screams “Y/N!” It’s more of an exclamation that a question, which prompts Harrison to ask the obvious.

“What are you doing?” It’s so posh coming from him, the accent highlighting the annoyance in his voice. Or maybe it’s confusion, because he seems baffled not only by your presence, but by your urgency.

Tom doesn’t seem to mind. He’s got wide, shining eyes, and a posture that’s halfway out of the chair he was sitting in. He crosses the length between you two in an instant, throwing you off for a second before you regained proper footing.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, staring you down with those concerned brown hues of his. You wanted to take his face in your hands, and reveal your purpose for being here in the first place.

You were out of breath, from both being so close to him, and from running up three flights of stairs. After getting started on a scouting job earlier this week, you requested half the day off to start finalizing your travel plans. Within the next week you’d be flying into Tokyo and Hong Kong for a few days with Shanghai as a backup plan in case you didn’t get the shots you wanted.

You had been so psyched to start packing and start sharing about your trip, when you came across a moving truck in front of your complex. And lo and behold, you caught the sight of Alice, her arms full of those yellow throw pillows you had seen in his apartment all those weeks ago. Her blue eyes scanned the street until they came to rest on you, shouldering a hand bag that probably cost less than her foundation.

Her eyes turned to steel, lips curved in the most menacing grimace you’d ever seen. Her eyes appeared watery as you came closer, the grimace turning into a full-blown snarl the longer you stayed in her vicinity.

You practcally ran away, heart pounding out of fear. It wasn’t that Alice was mean or nasty towards you; it was that you could understand why she didn’t like you. You didn’t know the specifics of their breakup, but if you could guess, you figured Tom’s affection towards you might have played a factor in it.

The guilt burned your chest, but there was something else there you didn’t understand, something that led you to Tom’s unlocked door. In the awkward silence between you two, you wondered why it was unlocked, and why he didn’t seem to question why you were here. The longer he stared at you, the more your fingers itched, and the more you yearned to touch him.

So you pulled him out of the apartment, his feet tripping over the threshold as the door closed behind him. You caught a glimpse of Harrison’s face, blue eyes shining with mirth before he winked, clicking it shut. Tom turned his head to look back, but you grabbed his cheeks, making him face you.

He opened his mouth to ask something, but the question was caught it his throat. Your lips were suddenly on his, and he shifted closer to you, like it was an instinct. Like he got kissed by breathless girls outside his apartment on a daily basis.

His arms wrapped around your waist, before coiling tightly, his nails digging into your jacket. Your hands left his cheeks, instead falling to the nape of his neck, where you brushed small curls of hair with your knuckles. Everything about kissing Tom felt like fitting into a jigsaw puzzle; you knew exactly where everything went. From your hands to your chest to your lips, every part of you felt in place.

Tom eyes opened as he pulled back, gazing at you like he would a star in the sky. “Why did you do that?” His nearly inaudible voice was shaky, his hands running up and down your sides. He tried to still himself, but you could feel the skittish energy he was trying hard to contain.

You wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him. “I don’t actually know,” you told him seriously, a smile in your lips.

He tried to roll his eyes, but he too was smiling at you. “You just did it, because? Just because you could?”

“Because I’ve wanted to for a long time. Because you accidently said last Thursday that you were in love with me. And because I’m in love with you too.”

Tom’s arms dropped and he balked, watching you with a gaping mouth. “You heard that? You heard me say that?” he reiterated, looking you in the eye. When you nodded he groaned, placing his head in his hands. He refused to look at you when you coaxed him out of his shame.

“I can’t believe you knew that,” he muttered, his face turning redder by the second. You tiptoed up and kissed the crown of his head, causing him to peek at you through his fingers.

“I’m sorry you’re embarrassed, but if I didn’t know I’d never have the guts to kiss you,” you compromised, pulling his hands away from his face. “C’mon, this situation isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not bad at all, really,” he sighed, a content smile gracing his lips. “I mean, you did say you were in love with me too, right?”

“Do kisses not mean anything to you Brits? Is that just like, a thing you guys do?” You poked fun at him, earning another small peck on your lips to shut you up. You smiled and laughed, making it messy and causing his lips to end up short squish against your cheek. He rolled with it though, smothering your face with tiny little pecks, squeezing you tight in his arms.

From somewhere in the apartment, Harrison screamed “Finally!”

anonymous asked:

if your still doing requests, could you do a fic where Jughead is a serpent and goes to Southside high and Betty is head cheerleader at riverdale and is dating Chuck? thanks and I love your writing!

Jughead held the rag to his nose, cursing under his breath as his friends all tended to their injuries. They had been jumped, absolutely wrecked by some Riverdale goonies in Blue and Yellow Letterman Jackets. Jughead recognized them instantly when they ran onto the Southside Basketball courts, Chuck Clayton leading the way as he and his idiotic, brain dead jock teammates face off against The younger generation of he Southside Serpents, a notorious gang in the darker parts of Riverdale.

Neither side had won the fight, both groups of boys going home with some serious injuries, however they had stolen his Leather Jacket and he was fairly pissed about that.

“I’ll kill them” a burly boy named Dean stated, spitting tobacco on the ground as he cracked his knuckles, nursing a seriously bruised cheek.

“We have to retaliate, maybe hit up that Diner they’re always going too.“A dirty teenager shouted from the back.

Beside him his closest friend and fellow Serpent ,Keith, rolled his eyes, elbowing Jughead with an exasperated shrug.

Jughead shook his head, wincing as he removed the rag

“We’ll get them back, but for now…we make them wait.. they’ll be waiting for us. Make them shake a bit” he said simply, as the other boys nodded in agreement. The Serpents always listened to Jughead, he was the voice of reason
And with his father being the gang leader he had somewhat of a pull.

There was a soft knock on the door, all of the boys went quiet as it slowly opened, revealing the one thing no one was expecting.

In walked an incredibly beautiful, blonde teenaged girl, her long hair pulled tightly in a ponytail and her shiny green eyes looking nervously around the bar, she had on a floral blue skirt and a clean white sweater, considering the fact that it was definitely over eighty degrees the choice of top confused Jughead, she stepped forward a nervous smile gracing her perfect heart shaped lips. She had a familiar leather jacket clenched in her hands and she seemed taken aback by everyone staring at her

“Umm hello. I’m so sorry to interrupt but I have something to return.”

Even her voice was soft like cotton. She held out the leather jacket to the group

“I found this in my boyfriends car, I know it doesn’t belong to him so I thought I would bring it back on my own.” She looked around, waiting for someone to claim it, her fingers twitching.

Snapping out of his daze Jughead walked towards the gorgeous blonde.

“That’s mine, your boyfriends an asshole” he said simply, standing before her and gently taking the jacket, his eyes fluttering closed for a second as he inhaled the fresh vanilla and peach that wafted off of her.

“You have no idea” she smiled sadly, something in her eyes made Jughead want to reach for her, grab her and wrap her up. “I’m so sorry about this, he just.. he gets that way sometimes, Chuck should never have taken your things and he definitely should never have attacked you all.” She looked around, her sad green eyes growing more desperate by the second, he wanted to make her feel better, something he wasn’t used to feeling. Jughead jones didn’t care about anyone but himself and his gang.

“It’s not your fault he’s a dick” he said monotone .

He saw a glint of something in her eyes as she giggled and he felt a tiny bit of pride for being the one to put it there. She coughed a bit and nearly every Serpent ran towards her, shoving beers in her face.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, smiling at the gesture
“That’s very sweet, but I’m okay.” She coughed again and this time Keith pushed his beer a bit too fast, spilling most of it on her sleeves, Jughead shoved his friend away from the blonde and then rest of the Serpents shouted at him, smacking him upside the head

“That’s okay!” She laughed, an honest to god happy laugh “it’s just some beer” she rolled up her sleeves to her elbows and Jughead had to bite back the hiss at what he saw. Her arms were covered in purple and blue bruises, fingerprint shaped marks littered her wrists and by the collective growl he knew the other boys had seen it too. He was going to kill Chuck Clayton.

The Serpents didn’t make the best decisions but one thing they didn’t tolerate was abuse to any woman, especially this gorgeous angel.

Her eyes went wide and she began pulling her sleeves down
“Well, once again I want to apologize for my classmates behavior. I’d like to say it won’t happen again, but when you make Chuck Clayton mad.. well there’s really nothing you can do.” She shrugged helplessly as she headed towards the door, waving slightly to the people she passed.

When she was almost at the door Jughead looked up to see each and every Serpent looking at him with threatening eyes.

“Go after her you dumbass” dean whispered loudly.

Rolling his eyes Jughead headed for the door just in time to catch her before she stepped into her black minivan.

“Hey!” He called, causing her to spin around.

“Is everything okay?” She asked, concerned.

“Everything’s fine, you just didn’t tell me your name.” He smirked, pulling his leather jacket on and sticking a cigarette into his mouth.

Betty stared at him, that same glint he had seen a few moments ago back in her eyes. She plucked the cigarette from his mouth, popping it into her pocket and beaming

“My names Betty Cooper, I’ll see you around…?” she trailed off, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

“Jughead. Jughead Jones” he answered, still in awe of the angel in front of him.

“Okay. I’ll see you around… Jughead Jones.” With that, she got in her car and drove towards her personal hell. Riverdale, the town with pep.

Meanwhile Jughead was staring at her retreating car, his face stuck in a stupid grin.

Keith and Dean came up behind him, calling for the other Serpents.

“So.. what’s her name?” Dean asked as the low mumble of the Serpents came from behind him.

“It’s Betty.. Betty Cooper. Maybe you were right, maybe we should pay the diner a friendly visit sooner than I thought.” He said, his eyes hardening at the thought of Betty’s “boyfriend”

You want a war Chuck Clayton? You got one. And this time?

He was gonna save fair Juliet.