do i even put a close up on this one

2

Prepping your print from file to finish:

I always hear people complaining about how much better the piece looked digitally, SO, here is a run down on how to get prints that look more like your original piece.

First of all, every printer is different.  Every paper is different.  Make sure you take the time to do test prints and become familiar with how your printer and paper combo work, as you’ll rarely nail a print your first try.  This one took about 5 test prints before I was confident to print on the expensive large paper Every time I mess up on a print, I save the remaining paper to use as scraps for test prints.

As you can see, the original piece looks very nice!  The focus is super strongly on the tiger, and all of the vibrant colors are still super evident in the background.  That said, when I print it as is, everything about 85% gray or darker turns BLACK.  And this is high quality paper designed to get accurate vibrant colors, too.

The best way to fix this is to do layer effects.  Brightness/contrast is my favorite, as a typical piece will generally print about 5x better if you up the brightness to around 15-25, and adjust the contrast up or down by 5-10 points.  That said, if you have a HIGH contrast piece (Darks against brights) like this one, you typically need to do a few more steps.

Often I’ll do a second brightness/contrast adjustment layer and push brightness to an obnoxious level so the darkest darks are closer to a mid-dark range.  From there, I’ll create a mask and use a transparent gradient tool to slowly pull back the brightness on all of the lighter areas of the image.

Additionally, due to printers using CMYK and your screen being RBG certain colors just physically CANNOT print.  Some people will always work in CMYK because of this, but honestly I like my saturated colors and most of my work is intended to be seen digitally so I only ever work in RGB.  Photoshop has a nifty toggle (Ctrl + Y) where you can toggle between CMYK and RGB view to see how your piece will appear when it prints.  It’s useful to check this because if you worked in a color that cannot replicate in print, you may want to shift it entirely before you even bother printing.

Artwork tends to desaturate a bit as it prints, so I’ll often make a Hue/saturation layer to play with, too.  In this case the image was already pretty damn saturated, BUT some of the shadows on the tiger were printing more brown than orange, so I adjusted the saturation a bit to keep them vibrant with the rest of the image.
**DO NOT use “Lightness” to lighten your image!  It basically adds a white overlay to your image.  Always use Brightness, instead.

After all of that, I have a final print that much more closely captures the essence of the original painting.  I could have tinkered even more, but to me the goal is a good print rather than an exact copy. 

For ULTRA high contrast images, like a dark room looking out into a snowy exterior, expect to do a LOT of adjustment to get it to print correctly.  Printers just aren’t too fond of super darks right up against super lights.

I could make a proper tutorial on this if people request it.  Mostly, just wanted to put my thoughts down in one spot!

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!”

Little By Little | Pt. 4

▷ Jungkook Angst

 “Sometimes friendship takes over the place of love and then love has no place left..”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 [Sequel]

You looked at your phone screen, reading the messages over and over again. Why was he making everything harder for you?

Throwing your phone on the sofa, you leaned your head against the wall and closed your eyes, thinking about what had happened just a while ago.

One hour ago

“Jungkook, I saw the way you look at a girl when you like her or when you’re in love with her. You don’t look at me like that..”

“Y/N-”

Holding your hand up, you stopped him before he could say anything. “You don’t have to say anything, Jungkook. Just, please, go home and stop making this harder for the both of us. I’m sure that as time goes by, you’ll forget me, believe me. Little by little, you’ll stop remembering me. It won’t be as difficult as you think it will be.”

Suddenly, Jungkook’s eyes darkened and he grabbed your shoulders and pressed your body against his, faces inches away from each other. “Damn it, Y/N! Stop interrupting me and listen to me! I like you! I don’t know how it happened or when it happened but it happened!”

“No, you don’t like me, Jungkook. You like the times when we spend time together, laugh together, have fun together or cry together. That’s it. I was always your distraction whenever she wasn’t there for you. I was always there for you whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on. But I’m tired, Jungkook. I can’t pretend to be happy anymore..”

You watched how Jungkook huffed loudly while he went his fingers trough his hair. “Y/N, why can’t you just believe me?! What should I do to make you believe me?!”

“You can’t make-”

Before you could end your sentence, Jungkook leaned forward and connected his lips with yours. Wrapping one arm around your body, he placed the other hand on your neck, pressing your head harshly against his.

When he realized that you weren’t reacting or responding to his kiss, he leaned back and placed his forehead against your shoulder. His whole body started shaking the moment he started talking in between his sobs. “Do you believe me now? Y/N, I don’t want to lose you, please.. Don’t leave me without you, I’m begging you. Tell me, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Just answer one question.”

When Jungkook heard those words, his head shot up immediately, his whole body filling with hope, looking at you with expecting and sparkling eyes.

Leaning forward, you reached for his back pocket and put your hand in it, grabbing the sparkling necklace that broke your heart whenever you saw it. Bringing the necklace in front of his eyes with your trembling hands, you asked him with a shaky voice.

“Why do you still carry her necklace with you even though you say you like me?”

The Youngest Member

Prompt: Imagine being the youngest member of the Suicide Squad and the team being protective of you.


Just a short little something

———-

You groan at Killer Croc picks you up and puts you behind him again, “Waylon!”

“I told you to stay behind me. Floyd told you to stay in the back”

You snarl and unfurl your whip, “I’m on this team for a reason!”

“Calm down, Honey! We know you can kill people! But you’re just a baby!” Harley shouts, using her bat to hit another creature.

Instead of saying anything else, you snap out your whip coiling it around the neck of another creature and ripping its head clean off. “I’m not a baby, just ‘cause I’m younger than the rest of you, doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own”

“Come one, Little Badass, you know we can protect you! You don’t even have to fight!” Floyd yelled, still shooting.

You just tighten your grip your whip, snapping it up to wrap around a light post, and spring boarding off of Waylon’s back, throwing yourself in the middle of the fight. You use your whip and knives to tear the creatures apart, literally. The fight is over when Floyd jumps on top of the cop car and takes down everyone else. You carefully coil your whip back up, careful to avoid the sharp parts, and tie it back to your hip.

“I thought I told you to stay back!” Rick shouted, getting right in your face, “You were ordered to stay behind Killer Croc! You disobeyed orders! Do you want me to blow your head off!!”

Suddenly Harley is between the two of you, her teeth bared at Rick, and Floyd has a gun to his head, even Waylon has his claws out, George has a boomerang at Ricks throat, and Chato looms nearby, “Ya don’t get to talk to our girl like that, Mister Rick, you should know that by now” Harley growled

“Whiplash is on this team for a reason, Cupcake. We all are, so let her do her job” Floyd growled

“You’re the one who first ordered her to stay back” Rick snarled, putting his hands up, and taking a step away from everyone.

“I told her to stay close to someone, just in case she needed help. She hasn’t had as much experience as most of us here, I wanted her to have back-up. I never told her to hide behind one of us.”

“Guys!” You shout, drawing everyone’s attention, “While I’m flattered that you all care so much, it would be a lot better if found cover. We need to get our target, and then we can get out of here”

“Pipsqueak is right, boys. I think these thinks are movin’” Harley said, sauntering away.

“This is gonna be a long mission” you groan, starting to follow the older woman.

“Don’t worry, we won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N”

You turn to glance at Waylon, for some reason he had appointed himself your guardian, “Thanks, you overgrown lizard”

Floyd chuckled at your name calling, nudging you with his gun, “Go catch up to, Harley. I need someone to keep an eye on her while I figure out what we’re doing next”

You wave them off, jogging to catch up to the crazy woman, who had taken to hitting one of the creatures with her bat. “I swear it moved!”

Warmth || Peter Parker Imagine

Paring: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,498 words

Request by anon:  hello i would like to request a peter parker x reader imagine where there dating and he has a nightmare about her dying and he goes to her apartment and cuddles her and the next day he’s all clingy but she doesn’t mind it at all? can you make it really cute please?

No Homecoming Spoilers (I mean, I mentioned Adrian Toomes as the villain but I mean, that’s kind of implied)

A/N: RIP Tom’s curls. i edited it but my computer did something weird so some words could be scrambled.

masterlist


Originally posted by clutterbucky


“No, please! Please don’t hurt her.” Peter screamed at the top of his lungs as he was in his Spider-Man suit with his mask off, chained to the wall behind him. He was pulling and tugging the chains, trying to get out of them to hold his girlfriend.

Y/N sat before him, leaning against a wall not chained down due to the hours of torture she endured that made her body too weak to do anything. Tear streaks laced her cheeks as a man, with his back to Peter, was leaning over a trey of tools. ​"Now, Mr. Parker,“ the man turned around with a knife in one hand and electrically charged wires in the other, the man was the Vulture, “which one should I use?”

Peter screamed while he pulled at the chains again, his wrists bleeding profoundly. “You don’t have to do this Adrian. You don’t have to. Please don’t hurt her. You want me remember?! So, just hurt me!” Sweat was sticking to his forehead and tears were falling from his eyes.

“We won’t tell anyone. No one has to know what happened, if that’s what you want, just please stop hurting her.” Peter begged, wanting to end the pain that Y/N was feeling so intensely. Adrian sighed, putting the knife down on the trey, placing the wires in both of his hands. “Sorry Peter, but you know I can’t do that.” He stated with a hint of sarcasm. He then placed the wires onto her abdomen, smiling wickedly at her screams of pain.

Peter screamed with her, his eyes filling with more and more tears. Adrian pulled the wires away, tossing them recklessly onto the ground. He picked up two more weapons, turning to Peter once again, “I think you should answer me this time, kid. Which should I use to kill her?”  He pulled one hand out from behind his back, “this one?” directing Peter’s attention to the knife. “Or this one?” He asked, revealing his other hand to show the silver gun.

He heard Y/N sob, making Peter pinch his eyes closed. “Please don’t do this,” He whispered, looking up at the man with watery eyes as he looked at him from where he was kneeling.

Adrian ‘tsk'ed as he put the knife down again. “Why don’t you ever answer me? I hate having to decide these things on my own. You have no idea how hard it is.” He pointed the gun at Y/N’s temple, making her sobs turn even more frantic. “Please! Just stop this!” Peter shouted, pulling and tugging at the chains.

Adrian glared at him, shaking his head slightly as he looked back at the gun in his hand, “Too late.” Before Peter knew it, Adrian pulled the trigger and Y/N’s eyes closed for the last lime.

Peter screamed at the top of his lungs when he saw her body fall on its side. “I’ll kill you you son of a bitch! You here me?! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” He shouted while Adrian laughed menacingly. Before Peter knew what was happening, the man came closer and closer to him, everything suddenly turning black.

He sat up, sweat drenching has back with the pale moonlight shining through his window. Peter was letting out quick and jagged breaths as he threw the covers off his body. He stumbled out of his bed, searching for a pair of pants to wear. He pulled the grey sweatpants over his legs before throwing on his Midtown sweatshirt and stepping into his shoes.

Grabbing his phone and stuffing it in his pocket, Peter opened his bedroom window. Climbing out of the warm, cozy room and into the dark,cold night.

The walk, or run, to Y/N’s apartment felt like it took hours, even if it was only around 10 minutes. The entire way there, tears kept flying out of his eyes. Peter just wanted to see her, hold her and never let go. He arrived at her building, climbing up the fire escape that was by her window. He pulled the glass upwards, enough to get his body through.

As he steadied himself in her room, he was able to see her asleep on her bed. Her chest rising and falling as she let out short breaths. Peter sighed, taking off his shoes and climbing into the bed behind her. He held her body closed to his chest, placing his forehead in between her shoulders.

“You’re okay,” He whispered, closing his eyes as a few tears escaped. Soon, sleep met Peter’s mind, along with peaceful and happy dreams.

Y/N woke up the next morning when her alarm started blaring. She moved her body to turn of the noise but she wasn’t able to move far due to arms wrapped around her body. She looked over her body to see Peter, his soft curls covering his eyes while he snuggled closer to the pillow under him.

She stretched her arm further to turn off her alarm. She didn’t want to disturb Peter, but she had to wake him up for school. “Peter,” she whispered softly, shaking his shoulders a little bit. He stirred, pinching his eyes before slowly opening them. A soft smile appeared on his lips, “Hey Y/N.”

“Hey, Peter,” She chuckled, running a hand through his curls, “Why are you here? Not that I don’t want you here. His smile dimmed, "I just really needed to see you.” Y/N stood up off her bed, holding his hand to drag her with him.

“I have to go home, and uh, get ready for school.” He stood up and held her in his arms. She turned her head up, standing on her tippy toes to connect their lips together. Peter relaxed at the feeling, not ever wanting to leave her grasp. She pulled away, patting his arm lightly. “See ya later Spidey.”

The entire day, Peter couldn’t keep his hands off of Y/N. On the subway to school, he kept falling asleep on her shoulder. At lunch, he had his arm around her waist to keep her closer to him. When he walked her to class his lips lingered on hers longer than they usually did. He even gave her his grey sweater so that she could have a small piece of him while he wasn’t in her classes. In the classes they had together, he had his hand clasped around hers.

As much as Y/N loved the small acts of his affection, she knew that Peter was acting weird ever since she saw him this morning.

After school, Y/N went over to his place to watch movies, do homework and just hang out. It felt like the perfect time to ask him about how strange he’s been acting. “Hey Peter?” Y/N asked, laying on the couch with her head on his chest as he was playing with her hair. He mumbled a small, ‘hm’ admiring her while she turned down the volume on the T.V.

She sat up a little, turning her body so that she could make eye contact with him. “Is everything okay? You’ve been acting super weird today.” She asked as she was playing with his fingers as their hands were held together. Peter sighed, sitting up on the sofa, with his legs crossed. Y/N sat in front of him with the same posture.

He held both of her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across the back of her hands, not looking into her eyes. “Last night,” he started, but cleared his throat, “I had a nightmare. A-A terrible nightmare. Vulture, he came back. And I don’t know how we go there but we were both in this small room. I was chained to a wall while he-he was torturing you.” Peter sniffled, and Y/N’s eyes softened.

“He held a gun to your head, Y/N. And he pulled the trigger before I could stop him,” he looked up at Y/N with tears filling up his eyes, “That’s why I went to your house last night. I was scared and I thought I actually lost you, Y/N.”

Y/N moved from her position to configure herself in his arms. His tears soaked her shirt as he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. “You didn’t lose me Peter and you never will.”

He leaned back, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you so much.” He whispered, pressing their lips together. He loved the feeling of their lips together. It made him feel content with to world. It made him feel like he could do anything he wanted. They pulled away at the same time. “I love you too, Pete.” She smiled, joining their lips together again.

My Fake boyfriend Part 7

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 2273

Warnings: SO MUCH FUFFLY

A/n: Thanks to @drinkfantasy for being my beta. You rock.

credits to the gif owner

Originally posted by winterwldow

Bucky gets off of the bench, offering you his hand. You accept gladly smiling at him, but his mind can’t focus on anything now. Would you let him kiss you? Would you be mad at him for asking? Maybe you would just politely decline; he wouldn’t blame you for not being attracted to him.

In the dinner room everybody is already sitting waiting for the two of you, including an old couple that he assumes to be Lucas’ parents and the way they are looking at you leaves him no doubts.

He sits by your side on the table watching as you smile at him and he kisses your hand. It is a small gesture, sure real couples do this all the time but it was also a way for him to say that things were alright between you two.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What about Dean and Cas as a pilot and flight attendant!!! Something cute and flirty :)

Dean is already in a pretty good mood when he gets to the airport. It’s not often anymore that he gets to go to a new destination, and since it’s an intercontinental flight he’ll even get a couple of days’ vacation before he has to fly back.

He perks up even more when he gets through security and spots a familiar head of unruly hair a few feet away. The new destination and vacation are great and all, but if he’s being honest with himself, the fact that he’s flying with Cas is the real reason he’s feeling so giddy.

He speeds his pace and falls into step next to Cas as casually as he can. “Hey, Cas, are you an air traffic controller?”

Cas doesn’t seem particularly surprised at the greeting, turning to Dean with a suspicious frown. “You know I’m a pilot.”

“‘Cause I’d like clearance to touch and go,” Dean finishes triumphantly, grinning when Cas groans.

“That one was terrible,” he tells Dean. “You need more practice.”

“Just warming you up,” Dean says. “How about this one? I’m gonna need an oxygen mask, because you just took my breath away.”

“Terrible,” Cas repeats, but his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile so Dean counts that one as a win.

Keep reading

I just closed up. I was so used to being open with you that I didn’t even realize I was shutting you out, that for once it wasn’t just you doing it to me. But I was also used to being hurt by you every time I did let you in; maybe not immediately, or even after a few days, but eventually you just put up your walls again and I got tired of being the only one willing to bare my soul and take a risk on something that I believed in. But I think the sad thing is that even though I realize all of this, even though I know exactly how this is going to end, I’m going to keep trying because I still believe in it; and for that I can only blame myself.
—  6:32 p.m.
Fireproof // Part One

(Authors Note: Here goes nothing.)

Summary: Supernatural Half Blood Boarding School AU where students are paired with a human counterpart to help them adapt to the human world outside their supernatural communities.


Highland Park Academy of Adaptation was a school unlike any other. It was a school for young adults from supernatural and human blended backgrounds to learn to blend in with the human world around them. Highland Park had students from many backgrounds such as, werewolves, vampires, fairies, orcs, giants, trolls, shapeshifters and the like. You name it, someone at the academy has probably been through there. These young adults live their lives among their families culture and go to schools within their cultural division. When they graduate their twelfth year of school they go to an Academy of Adaptation where they learn how to be more human like to blend in with the humans around the world. It’s a year long attendance and then they graduate, assuming they have passed their classes and tests. For many, this year is a breeze and they have no problem adapting because they’ve already lived with or among their human halves of their families. Other have a harder time because they have only lived with their supernatural parent or with their supernatural parent’s families.

At Highland every student is paired with a human partner. They are usually around the same age and have been trained in helping specific supernatural cultures learn to blend and adapt. The student and their partner share a dorm room and learn from each other throughout the year. If a partner is successful, their student will graduate and leave the academy being able to fit seamlessly into human society. If they are not, well, they will be reevaluated as a partner and the student will have to attend another year with a new partner.

Keep reading

BTS reaction- going shopping with s/o

Anon asked : “Bts react to shopping with their s/o and she tries on different clothes. What would their reaction be you think?”

Anon asked: Bts reaction to going grocery shopping with s/o to different places. Thank you in advance”

A/N: I ended up combining both of these since they are very similar. Hope you guys dont mind :) Happy Reading!!

Hyung line: Grocery shopping with s/o

Maknae line: s/o trying on different clothes.

**GIFS ARE NOT MINE. CREDIT TO RIGHTFUL OWNERS. IMAGES SOURCED FROM GOOGLE IMAGES

MASTERLIST


Jin 

Jin would be so happy that you would want him to accompany you for grocery shopping. He would probably help you pick out ingredients, and suggest dishes you guys could cook up together

“Lets make beef” he said holding up a beef package in front of you. “We could put in vegetables, oh! and I could make the broth for it too!” he said in excitement. “You are cute” you said. “No I am just happy to be cooking together with the love of my life” he replied. His cheeks flushed a bit after he said that, but pretending that it was very normal of him to do so he said “okay lets go to the ingredients section and pick out the seasonings”. He interlocked his hand with yours and led you down the alleys of the shopping mart.

Yoongi

If you could get him to go with you for something as ordinarily boring as grocery shopping he would probably just be very annoying and ask at minute intervals if you were done

“Do you really need me to buy vegetables? Its a one person job” he said as he closed his eyes. “Please Yoongi? Please please please?” you genuinely requested. “Okay fine I promise I wont disturb you while you sleep tomorrow, not even to wake you up for practice” you said. “Fine..” he muttered “I’ll stay in the car” he said. When you explained to him that its still the same as not going he agreed. Everytime you put something in the cart he said “ Look we’re done! lets go now” 

Hoseok

Hoseok would probably happily walk around, unable to shake off the domestic vibes he felt while grocery shopping with you. Would likely make up future after marriage scenarios 

“Don’t you get the domestic vibes from all this?” he asked. You were  kind of lost. “Babe just imagine us, married and shopping together like this, buying stuff for our house” he emphasized the word ‘our’. “Hoseok…” you said feeling a bit emotional. He smiled at you warmly. You could tell he was really happy just being with you and it made you happy in turn.“I am serious. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping is fun when I am with you” 

Namjoon

He would probably be the guy reading labels on everything trying to decipher how healthy the food is. 

You sighed as you saw your boyfriend reading labels on everything you picked out. “This is necessary. I need to make sure everything that you ingest is healthy. I dont want you getting sick even in the slightest” he said, with his eyes trained on the box of energy bars. “I appreciate that but..” “But nothing” he cut you off finally putting the box down, smiling with satisfaction. 

Jimin

This boy would most likely just stare at you with a smile on his face each time you came out of the changing room wondering how did he get so lucky 

He was all smiles as you tried on different clothes. “Babe that looks really good on you” he said as he twirled you around. He was so lost staring at you that he didnt even notice when you asked him whether the dress you wore looked good on you. “Hmm?” he said as he blinked a few times. “Lets just buy the whole store because you make everything look so good on you, its hard to choose a single thing” he complimented making you blush. 

Taehyung 

He would probably spoil you rotten, giving so many compliments and taking so many pictures of you.

“The trial room is over on the left” he threw the pile in your hands and pushed you in the direction of the room. You tried on every piece of clothing he had given you and he took pictures of you each time. “How did I ever get someone as perfectly beautiful as you?” he said with a loving smile on his face as you came out in the white dress he had selected for you. His hands snaked around your waist, he pulled you in and his lips drew you into another world. “Keep slaying my princess” he winked as pulled away first.

Jungkook

Jungkook would be so picky about everything you wore because secretly he wouldnt want any other guy to see you so prettied up 

“Next” he said as you came out wearing shorts. “I like it though!” you said in outrage. “I dont” he said casually. He walked towards you spun you around by your shoulder and pushed you in the fitting room. “Why are you being like this?” you asked in annoyance. “I dont want any other guy eye raping the shit out of you.” he paused. “ Unless you want me to get into a bloodied fight then go ahead” he smirked knowing that he got to you. You sighed in response and exited the store hand in hand with clothes of his choice. 


I hope both of you liked it!!

French (Snowbaz)

A/N: this was written for the prompt “it means go away in French” which the darling @iranau asked me to write!

Edit: I fixed all the French bits so it actually says what I was trying to say 😁

Simon

I stare at myself in the mirror, turning my head from left to right to make sure the wings of my eyeliner are even before heading out to get Agatha’s approval. Agatha and I have made up since the breakup and we’re much better as friends than we ever were as a couple. I’ve been hanging out with her a lot more recently (Penny’s busy studying for finals and hanging out with Agatha means avoiding Baz) and last night she insisted on doing my makeup, both of us laughing when I had blinked, smearing mascara all down my cheek. I liked the eyeliner though; so much that I decide to do it again today. I grin at my reflection in the mirror and ruffle my hair back a bit before giving up on that and leaving the bathroom. I find Agatha sprawled on her bed flipping through a magazine.

“How’s it look?”

Agatha looks up and a grin spreads across her face.

“Almost as good as if I’d done it.”

I smile at that.

“Now get out I need a shower.”

Agatha jumps off her bed and shuts the bathroom door so I slip out of her dorm room and sneak through Mummers House. It’s early so I can hear the sounds of other students waking and beginning their mornings but no one is out in the hallway yet.

I think about going to visit Ebb or find Penny but I know Penny will still be asleep and Ebb is probably somewhere way out in the fields so I’d be lucky to track her down. Instead I just head up to my room. Maybe I’ll try and do some homework or something. If anything I can at least see if Baz is up to anything sketchy and stop him.

The cloisters is even quieter than the girls’ dorm is when I sneak in. I shut the squeaky oak door behind me, pausing to listen for any noise before continuing up the stone steps to the very top.

I walk into my room and shut the door, loud enough to make Baz jump before turning on his desk chair to complain.

He freezes when he sees me, his mouth opening to say something as his sharp grey eyes rake my face. I freeze under the assault of his gaze, trying to prevent a blush and also smother the sense of pride at making Baz speechless. Finally he blinks, mumbling something that sounds like French before turning back to his desk.


Baz

Baise-moi,”

It slips out of my mouth before I can stop it and I’m lucky that Simon doesn’t know French. He’s standing there in the doorway, rumpled clothes and messy hair. The dark eyeliner brings out the intense blue of his eyes and a burning fire ignites in my stomach at the sight of him.

I watch him narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What’s that mean?”

I choke a bit, trying to think quickly. I’m not about to tell Simon I just told him to fuck me in French.

“Go away, Snow. It means go away.”

I sneer to add to the effect (and because I’m disgusted at myself for being so desperate.) It must have been believable despite besides my fluttering breath and hot cheeks because Simon rolls his eyes and stomps into the bathroom, slamming the door. I sink down in my chair and pull my shaking hands through my hair, sending all my thanks to Crowley that Simon can’t speak French. But finally saying something about my detestable crush on him lifts an immense weight off of my shoulders.

An idea rises in my head but I push it away with a shake of my head and turn back to finishing my homework.


A few days later I still can’t forget how it felt to tell Simon something true. Something honest. It was a rush of fear, but also relief at not hiding so much. The next time I pass him, I bump into him purposely.

Je veux t'embrasser,” I mutter in his ear. I want to kiss you.

I watch as Simon storms off, anger clouding in his eyes and can’t help the smirk that grows on my face.

I keep doing this every chance I get. The next time Simon accuses me of plotting I tell him he has beautiful eyes. When he wakes me up at an obscenely early hour because he’s being so loud, stomping around our dorm room in the mornings, I mumble about his golden hair. When he’s fast asleep and I’m sitting cross-legged on my bed eating salt and vinegar crisps I tell him how much I want to trace all of the moles on his body.

All in French of course.


Simon

Baz hasn’t quit it with the sinister French comments. He’s obviously plotting something. Anytime he sees me he starts muttering with his low, rich voice. I hate him. But the eyeliner seems to annoy him, which just gives me all the more reason to wear it all the time. Whenever he sees it he stares, openly, and his voice gets even more venomous.

I’m drawing it on right now, looking at myself in Penny’s bathroom mirror while she studies for her linguistics class.

She’s on her bed, the brightly colored quilt bunched up around her legs where her textbook is balanced. Her fingers are wrapped around a mug of tea and have brightly colored polish on them, spelled to change with her mood. Right now they’re yellow. Happy, I think. She sips her tea while I apply my eyeliner. Agatha finally just gave me some. She was tired of me borrowing hers all the time.

I trace around my eyes carefully and stare at the mirror. Satisfied, I go and sit next to Penny, bouncing onto the bed and disturbing her careful setup.

“Simon!” Penny squeals, holding her tea up carefully, “you almost made me spill my tea!”

“Sorry Pen,” I say, reaching for her tea to take a sip. “Got enough sugar in this?” I ask, cringing a bit. It’s startlingly sweet.

Penny huffs and reaches for the mug, her skirt riding up to her thighs.

“Got enough eyeliner on?” she replies.

I roll my eyes.

Baise-moi,” I say, mimicking Baz’s pronunciation.

Penny chokes and starts coughing, spluttering tea down her jumper.

“What did you just say to me Simon?” she says.

Baise-moi?” I say, a little unsure. Maybe I’m saying it wrong. “It means go away in French,” I explain.

Penny raises her eyebrows.

“Who told you that?”

“Um,” I run my hands through my hair, a little embarrassed to say it was Baz. “No one. I just heard it somewhere.”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay well whoever told you that’s what it means was lying to you Simon. You just said ‘fuck me’ in French not ‘go away.’”

It’s my turn to cough and splutter, because no way did he say that to me. Baz hates me.

Penny doesn’t lie though. She’s not like that. I believe that even if I can’t believe Baz would say that that to me. Even if I can’t believe that has would like me.

This truth sinks into my body, a weight I can feel, sending hot waves through me like a spell.

Baz hadn’t told me to go away, he’d seen me in my eyeliner and said fuck me. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?

“I- I gotta go Penny.” I say, getting up from the bed.

I have to find Baz.

Baz

I’m slammed into a wall as soon as I enter my room. It’s Simon of course.

“Yes, Snow?” I sneer.

His fists are curled around my football jersey and he’s close, so close I can hear his breathing.

“I’m onto you,” he says.

“Really? You’ve figured it out then? See, I was planning to take a shower when I came in here, not to be rudely slammed into a wall. So if you could let me go-”

Baise-moi,” he says, eyes darting across my face.

I try not to react. I really do. But I can’t help it. My lifelong crush just slammed me into a wall and told me to fuck him. How can I not react?

Heat rises to my cheeks and I hate myself for stopping to feed in the catacombs before heading up here.

“Penny told me what it really means,” he says.

Panic rises in my chest, fluttering and angry. Blood rushes in my ears. I can’t help but notices how close his face is to mine. I could easily lean down and kiss him right now. Put my hands on his cheeks and pull him to me.

I push that thought away. I’m so distracted that I don’t hear his next question, or even realize he’s asked one until I see he’s waiting for a reply.

“Sorry?” I say.

“How do you say kiss me in French?”

It feels as if everything’s suddenly gone quiet. Nothing in the air but quiet breathless hope. I study his face. His blue blue eyes lined in dark kohl, staring at my lips. His freckled cheeks, blushed red. His mouth, parted in question.

Embrasse-moi,” I say finally.

And then he kisses me.

Looks like Georgie here thinks that was especially brilliant!

Pairing: George x Reader

Request: Hey can you write a george x reader when they have DA training ang George is looking at Y/N all the time and boys tease him about it?

A/N: I’m super mega pissed because all of my notes got wiped so aaaaall the requests I save and aaaall the Imagines I was writing have now completely gone! Terrific! 

Squicks: I think I said a naughty word, rhymes with brother trucker :)


You were a fairly quiet girl: generally keeping to yourself and close friends and not really doing much to step out of your comfort zone, but you figured that that needed to change, especially if you were ever going ever to get the attention of George Weasley.

[George’s POV]

I signed up to join Harry’s little group that he and his friends organised, designed to teach Defence Against The Dark Arts while Umbridge was in power; they called it Dumbledore’s Army.

My main reason for joining was because I wanted to practice and actually learn some defensive spells (and that wasn’t gong to happen with Umbridge running the joint), but also because the word of mouth was that Y/N would be signing up too.

Today was the first official meeting of the DA. Harry had discovered a secret room in the castle, known as the Room of Requirement. Harry started off the lesson by going over the basics, the first spell being Expelliarmus.

Harry went through what exactly the disarming charm did, while Y/N listened tentatively, giving a small nod every now and then of understanding, her arms crossed and giving her full attention.

“Got your eye on Y/N, have you?” Fred nudged me and said quietly, his voice dripping with amusement,

“Shut up,” I retort… There was no point lying to him, he was my twin brother after all, there’s no fooling him.

—————

By the next DA meeting, it seems as though Freddie had let slip of my attraction towards Y/N, since I received a lot of nudges and whistles when Y/N walked in.

Today Harry had us focusing on the Stupefy charm, and we all found a partner that we would be duelling with.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not partnered with Y/N, much to Fred and Lee’s disappointment… Cho beat me to it.

Y/N and Cho stood opposite each other in the middle of the room, their wands drawn. Obviously I was staring at Y/N, and the boys found it hilarious.

“Stupefy!” Y/N’s voice echoed off the walls. She cast the spell perfectly, causing Cho to go flying backwards, Harry barely catching her.

I stared at Y/N in awe. The girls all applauded her, while Fred told me that maybe a photo would last longer.

“Looks like Georgie here thinks that was especially brilliant!” one of the dickheads, Zachariahs called out, while his group of shits laughed.

Y/N of course heard, and was now looking at me, her cheeks a slight rosy colour.

“Yeah, I do,” I agree, which he didn’t expect at all, “And I reckon you couldn’t cast any spell half as good as that one, and it was only her first go!”

Zacharias stuttered for a bit, looking remarkably similar to a fish out of water opening and closing his ginormous mouth. The girls around Y/N all giggled, while she gave me a glowing smile, which I returned, even though Fred and Lee were rather off-putting with their snickering and elbow jabs.

Once the meeting was officially over, Y/N was the one who came up to me.

“Hey George, that was really sweet what you said earlier”.

Fred and Lee gave each other a look, before both of them walked on, surprisingly without saying another word.

“Get in, Georgie!” Knew it was too good to be true.

Y/N giggled while I put my face in my hands and groaned. Still laughing, she put her hand on my shoulder out of pity, which was enough encouragement to look up at her. Her eyes looked like they were laughing too, they were shining brightly and full of happiness to match her contagious smile.

“I meant it, you know, you’re quite amazing at spells, and in general I guess too but more of that later,” I admit, which she clearly seemed to enjoy by her overly enthusiastic laugh, probably an attempt to hide the blush that was evidently creeping onto her cheeks.

“No no, feel free to go on about my general greatness, I wouldn’t mind,” she flirted back,

“Well I mean, I wouldn’t want you to get a big head or anything, so maybe I should space the compliments out a bit, shall we say tomorrow evening for the next few? I can assure you that I have a lot,”

While Y/N giggled and the colour in her cheeks deepened, I marvelled in the fact that I am literally the smoothest motherfucker in this whole damn school.

“I think that could work,” she smiled cheekily, stepping in a bit and looking up at me, her hands resting on my shoulders,

“Wonderful…” I whispered, as I cupped her jaw in my hands and leant down. My lips delicately met with hers, and she instantly kissed me back, her arms wrapping around the back of my neck.

Whilst it was only a short kiss, it was deep and passionate. I knew that there’d be a lot more where that came from, starting tomorrow night.

coming home ✧

Pairings: tom holland x reader

Warning(s)?: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, 18+

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Tom finally comes home after being away for so long, and you and him finally reconnect in an intimate manner that only you and him share.

A/N: this is my first tom smut EVER so go easy on a girl ok ??? also no one is forcing u to read this so if ur uncomfortable read NO further!! listen to groupie love by lana del rey ft a$ap rocky

——————————————————————————————-

Your room door opened slowly as you were resting on your bed, using the remote control to navigate through the channels. As you turned your head, your eyes met the deep brown ones that you’d been longing to see for too long before you practically hopped off your bed and collided your body with Tom’s. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his slid around your waist as you took in the scent of his strong cologne, breathing into his shoulder heavily.

“Hey baby,” he said with a chuckle as your heart melted at his words. You hadn’t heard them in person in a while, so you couldn’t help the thumping of your heart as they left his lips.

You pulled away from the hug just to look into his eyes, “Don’t ever leave me for that long ever again, okay?”

Before you could even take in his features again, his lips were on top of yours. His movements were soft and sweet, your lips moving effortlessly against his as the kiss intensified. Fireworks erupted in the pit of your stomach; this feeling was unlike anything you’d ever experienced with Tom before. He’d been gone, but never for this long. You had this almost aching pain for him in your bones, and now that he was in your arms, you wanted to take advantage of the opportunity and make up for lost time.

He slightly lifted you off of the ground, stumbling off his shoes as your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and he carried you back to your bed. His lips never left yours until you reached the bed as he laid you down gently and hovered over you at the head of your bed. It was your turn to initiate the kiss so you closed the small gap between Tom and you when you lifted your lips to his, your hands resting on the sides of his neck as you pulled him closer to you.

His lips were tender and light; almost too delicate compared to the adrenaline that was running through your veins now that Tom was with you. You became almost frustrated with the lack of energy coming from him, so you took it upon yourself to slide out from underneath Tom, and as he turned his body around confusingly, your legs found themselves on each side of him, straddling him as he lied beneath you on the bed. You brought your face down to his, locking eyes and stopping right before your lips touched.

“Tom. Kiss the hell out of me. Please.” you say before your lips meet his again, and this time he’s finally catching the drift. His lips move against yours fiercely, almost in a battle as his hands start to make their way up from your hips. He slips his cold hands underneath the fabric of your shirt, gliding along your hips as you get chills, causing you to moan. He takes this as the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, sending tingles up your spine.

Keep reading

bad omen | C5 | sweet pea

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four 

“Can you attempt to pay attention?” I hissed in annoyance, swatting SP’s hand away from the rip in my jeans for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. Mr Birdy shot his eyes in warning over to where we sat; Sweet Pea straightened up in  his seat, offering the teacher an innocent smile. When all eyes returned to the front, he leaned down into my ear again.

Keep reading

Charles Xavier x reader (yes, another one)

Originally posted by julee-art

“Y/N, could you please come to my office for a second?” You heard Charles’s voice ring in your head.

“What is it Charles? Can’t you tell me now?” You asked turning pages in the book you were reading.

“I would prefer you coming here darlin’. It’s important.” You sighed and put the book down.

“Alright professor. I’m coming.”

“Thank you dear.” You walked up the stairs of the busy school. It was filled with children of all ages. From afar you could see Hank desperately trying to rush some of them into a classroom but that didn’t seem to work very well. You giggled and walked down the corridor to the professor’s office. You knocked twice and entered the room.

Keep reading

The Ex

Francis x Reader

Warnings: Mature themes and strongish language


“Go away Ajax.” You snapped as he sat at the bar and smiled at you.

“Easy darling, just checking in.” He frowned when he spotted a picture of you and your new boyfriend hugging, tapped to the wall behind the bar.

“Don’t you even dare…” You threatened as he held his hands up.

Keep reading

A Little Help

Hi guys! I wrote this on my phone and I haven’t been to sleep in forever, so I’m pretty positive this is just some rambly words about Tom and the reader wanting to be in a relationship, but being too shy to actually tell the other. So, instead, they just do small things to help each other out. P. S., Harrison ships it. I hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by spiderholland

A Little Help

“You need help, let me grab that for you,” Tom said, reaching up to plunk the novel from the shelf. “Which one do you want?” Tom asked, bringing a hand to rest upon her waist to readjust her position to point out the book she’d been trying to obtain.

    She stood up on her tiptoes, eyes desperately seeking to survey the shelf clearer, “I actually don’t have one particular in mind, would it be a bother to just take everything by Pablo Neruda down?”

    “Course not,” Tom said and easily picked all the Neruda’s out for her. “Who is he?”

    Her eyes widened and she smiled, happy to tell Tom everything she knew about Pablo Neruda. “He’s a famous Chilean poet, I mean, he eventually went into the political field, but I mostly know him from his poetry. When I was in high school, my best friend and I were obsessed with a poem he wrote called, ‘My Ugly Love.’”

She was starting to ramble and she knew that Tom probably couldn’t give two shits about the ugly love spoken about in the poem, but she was so close to him and he smelled good, and his chest was firm when she leaned into him, so it would be a fair statement to say that she was beyond distracted. “It starts out-”

Tom didn’t remove his hand from her waist, figuring that if she didn’t like it, she’d step back from him. His gaze flickered from her lips, to the rosy flush gliding across her cheeks, and then up to her eyes. Tom drank in her words about Pablo Neruda, still not quite registering who he was, but still completely absorbed by her words.

As he listened to her, still holding an assortment of novels in his hands, he accidentally cut her off completely. “Wait, do you have it memorized?”

She was nearly positive that her entire body was tinged pink, “Yeah, I won’t bore you with the details, I just like the poem because it’s different.”

“No, no, tell me. I wanna hear about it. I just got,” Tom searched for an appropriate word. “Excited?” Truly, Tom had cut her off because she looked so endearing that he thought that he would physically blow up if he didn’t kiss her.

He loved it when she talked about stuff like this, he could tell it was one of the few times that she actually felt confident in voicing her opinions.

“My ugly love, you’re a messy chestnut.

My beauty, you are pretty as the wind.

Ugly: your mouth is big enough for two mouths.

Beauty: your kisses are fresh as new melons.

Ugly: where did you hide your breasts?

They’re meager, two little scoops of wheat.

I’d much rather see two moons across your chest,

two huge proud towers.

Ugly: not even the sea contains things like your toenails.

Beauty: flower by flower, star by star, wave by wave,

Love, I’ve made an inventory of your body.

My ugly one, I love you for your waist of gold.

my beauty, for the wrinkle on your forehead.

My Love: I love you for your clarity, your dark.”

She finished and looked up to him with a smile on her face.

“So, what do you think?” She asked him, reaching up to sift through the books that Tom had gotten down for her.

“How do you know the best of everything?” Tom muttered, eyes widened, because, as usual, she was right. The poem was supremely different from any of the traditionally romantic sonnets that he’d read.

She smiled and unwound herself from his grasp and wandered down the next aisle, in search for her friend and Harrison, who’d accompanied them to the bookstore.

Tom, still leaned up against the shelf was slow to notice Harrison’s approaching figure.

“Dude, you need to ask her out. It’s getting ridiculous. Everybody, even strangers, already think you’re together, so why not make it real? Not as if she’s going to say no.” Harrison urged.

Shrugging his shoulders and racking his brain for an adequate response, Tom eventually stuttered out, “you never know, she could just want to be friends, and then if I ask her out, then she won’t even wanna be that.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, “Well then, mate, better wipe that drool off your chin.”

The next morning, in a haste to open the door for her, Tom had accidentally whacked himself in the face with it. Now, he not only sported a bloody nose, but also a split lip. Still, he wasn’t complaining.

She’d freaked out when she saw the blood drip from his nose and the bruises already forming on his jaw and had rushed him home. She stood in between Tom’s legs, while he perched on her kitchen table, and held up towels to stop the bleeding.

“Tom, literally what the hell?” She murmured, gliding her soft palm across his lower lip.

“I told you, I saw a bee and I didn’t want it to sting you,” Tom lied. Obviously, there hadn’t been a bee, but he refused to tell her that he’d nearly broken his face purely to hold the door open for her.

“But I never saw it? I didn’t even hear one, and besides, it wasn’t like there were flowers around. Why would a bee wander over here?” She mused, walking to the fridge to grab a bag of frozen vegetables.

“No, no,” Tom whined, “Those will be too cold, I don’t wanna put that on my face.”

She pouted, “Too bad, let me help you! I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Tom hesitated, and then opened his arms and pulled her close to him, keeping a gentle hand on the small of her back. “Fine, fine. Just do it.”

She smiled and rocked up onto her tippy toes and pressed her make-shift icepack to his face. He didn’t even shiver when the frost-covered package touched his bare skin, because when she was this close to him, he could see the multitude of colors swirling in her eyes.

A week later, it was time for Tom and Harrison to, once again, travel for the press tour. Tom was gutted. He couldn’t imagine leaving her without explaining to her that he wanted to be with her so badly, that the mere thought of leaving her made him physically ill.

Little did he know, that she felt the same way. All he knew, was that he was going over to her apartment to give her one last goodbye hug while Harrison waited in the car.

From inside her apartment, she spritzed on Tom’s favorite perfume. Whenever she wore it, he always leaned into her more while they were in conversation, or fiddled with her hair more and didn’t pull away from her when they hugged.

She had done her best to conceal her nighttime tears with makeup and sheprayed that Tom wouldn’t notice them as she opened the door.

Tom stepped in quickly and before she even shut the door, Tom surged towards her. Bending down to her height, Tom threw his arms around her, ignoring that his phone had fallen to the floor.

“Are you alright Tom?” She questioned, hands stiff at her sides.

“Just gonna miss you loads and loads and loads.” His voice was muffled by her sweater.

Her arms wound around him, “You know I’ll miss you too.”

“I don’t want to leave you yet.” Tom pulled away and his gaze bore into her floor.

Taking him by the hand, she pulled him to sit down on her sofa. “I made you something to help.”

Tom curled an arm around her frame as she sat a heavy box down in front of him, “Darling, what is it? You shouldn’t have gotten me anything, I didn’t know-”

She cut him off by pressing a hand over his lips. “Promise to look at it on the plane?”

She looked to cute and eager and shy that Tom had agreed, and now, after finally boarding the plane, Tom opened the box.

Inside were all the Pablo Neruda books that she’d bought the day she read him ‘My Ugly Love,’ and a note.

The note read,

Hi Tom,

I’m just going to assume that you followed my directions and now you’re flying safely through the air, but if you’re not, and I find out, may Mother Earth save your soul.

All of these books were mine before yours because I wanted to give you something that would remind you of me. I wrote you little notes on all the pages, so it’ll be like we’re talking about them. I highlighted my favorite ones for you in pink.

Please don’t forget about me.

Tom scoffed, as if he could ever forget her. He opened the first book and quickly spotted the swirls of her delicate handwriting on the bottom corner of the page. It read,

Don’t freak out, some of the poems are in Spanish, but I made sure to help translate them for you in the margins.

Tom smiled and began to leaf through the poems, blown away by not only the words of Pablo Neruda, but also by her tiny love poems for him written so softly in the captivity of the margins that he could barely tell that they were there.

When he landed, he would make sure to send her some of his own.

have yall ever even looked at an up close pic of a spiders face thats not one of those anime-eyed supposedly cute jumping spiders because check it out and really look into those eyes and i guarantee you will see straight into hell and feel demons clawing at your brain with 8 legs

our trailer - sweet pea

can they just make a spin-off with sweet pea, already? he is low-key the reason i’m actually watching season two :)  

y/n knew being sweet pea’s girlfriend held a lot of responsibilities, but not like these. they had decided when they first got together that they would keep it a secret, but now, 7 months later, she doesn’t like the idea as much. she has tried to distance herself from the boy several times, thinking he would fall out of love, but he always manages to bring her back to his trailer somehow. 

y/n was kicked out of her dad’s house a little after she met sweet pea, her mum was long gone on the path of drugs, and she didn’t manage to keep it a secret for more than a couple of weeks. sweet pea had followed her one day, finding her behaviour strange, and had his jaw hit the floor seeing the state of her house. it was even worse than his family’s one, and that’s when he started to worry. easy to say, she didn’t get to stay there often.

“y/n, open the door,” sweet pea calls out, his voice laced with annoyance, but also worry. he knows his girlfriend is in there, and that she can hear him all clear. he also knows well that she’s ignoring him once again, and hits the door in anger before stepping away slightly. “you know i will climb the window, y/n!”

he awaits for the door to open, knowing it will get to her at one point. she hates it when he puts himself in danger, making their relationship somewhat ironic. as he is about to give up hope, he can hear the lock turning, revealing a mess of a girlfriend. however, even with only her underwear on and her hair everywhere, he finds her incredibly beautiful. 

“what you doing here? i was peacefully sleeping,” y/n comments, ignoring his gaze as he snickers. he crosses his arms as she hides her body behind the door, even when she knows no one will be walking past the house. he ignores the urge to embrace her, wanting to mirror her stubbornness. “so?”

“put on some clothes, y/n, we’re going home,” sweet pea answers, walking past her and into the excuse of a house. she sighs as she closes the door, looking around the living room for a shirt to put on. she has already made up her mind, however, and this time she’s not coming back to his. “and no excuses, i am not letting you fall sick because of this hell of a house!”

“the house is perfect as it is,” y/n mutters, watching sweets rolling his eyes at her words. he ignores her words as he grabs her bag, starting to throw the clothes laying around in it. he is tired of her doing this, it is time to have her live at his officially. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“bringing you,” he turns towards her, pointing at her as he speaks, “home.”

“this is my home, sweet pea.”

“it is not, stop being such a pain, y/n.” he has fallen impatient with her, having been excited all day to find his girlfriend in his bed after school, but was met with an empty trailer. having her denying his request is only making him more annoyed. “this is not a home, okay? you can’t live here, i love you too much to leave you in this hell hole. it’s not safe at all,”

“how is it not safe, sweets?”

“it is way too close to the ghoulies’ territory, alright? also, who knows who owns this house, what if they come here and find you in their house, what trouble that would be, huh?” 

“that won’t happen, you know the ghoulies wouldn’t touch me! also, where am i supposed to go when you have your friends over, then? you going to throw me into your closet?” that’s when sweet pea stops, furrowing his brows at his girlfriend. he chuckles lightly as she blushes, knowing well enough she has been well ridiculous the last five minutes. however, when sweet pea is about to embrace her, she still stands her ground as she steps back. he smirks at her antics, letting her continue this game of hers. “i think you should go,”

“and take you with me? i think so as well.”

“no, you can leave my home,”

“i already have, silly! does it look like i’m in my trailer?” y/n groans, seeing sweet pea having successfully put all her belongings in her bag. he throws her a pair of tights and socks, motioning her to put them on. she stares him down, letting the annoyance in her eyes speak for itself. “come on, put them on,”

“i’m not coming with you! but, i’m still putting them on, though, it’s freezing,” she mutters the last part, ignoring the smirk on sweet pea’s lips as she does as told. as she finishes the last foot, she looks up to find sweet pea wrapping his jacket around her shoulders, pulling her into an embrace at last. 

“come on, babes, just come back to mine, ours.”

“fine.”

[ image description: A screen shot of a post that reads “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” Someone has crossed this out with a big grey X and underneath added “No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they’re worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.” End of descripton ]

I hate this post, I hate it so much. And let me tell you why.

At first it seems like a pretty good post, right? You should love people and do things for them because you want to or because it’s nice, or just because you love them, not because you expect something in return. Yeah. We learn that as kids. But listen. Listen to me. It is not that simple. Yes you should do nice things for people. Carry in your grandmother’s grocerys even if she forgets to say thank you. Sure. But you should never, never, pour yourself into someone who does not give back to you.

Doing everything for someone who gives you nothing in return is not love.

A friend of mine worded it really well “The point of the original post was to emphasise that your own mental/physical health is more important than someone’s selfish needs.” It’s not romantic to run yourself into the ground for someone who can’t even be bothered to care about you. And not only is it not romantic, it’s unhealthy.

I have, on more than one occasion, “crossed oceans” for people who I do believe loved me, but who didn’t even come close to crossing them for me. And do you know what I got out of that? The first one I lost 10 pounds because I was so miserable I could barely eat and I was throwing up what I did eat. And I was still doing whatever I could to be with them, and make them happy, even though they didn’t seem to be willing to put any work in themself. Why bother, I was always there. The second one I ran my own mental health so thin that that literally could not do anything for him, all I could do is sit in the bathtub and think about how I coudln’t feel anything. But I still refused to turn my phone off and ignore his messages. I still made myself avaible to him because he “needed me.”

There was nothing romantic about either of those situations (note: only one was a romantic relationship but the idea of giving and giving and giving when you’re gettin nothing back is romanticized whether it’s in a romantic or platonic relationship.) There was nothing beautiful or selfless about it. It was miserable. I was miserable. I can remember one of my friends telling me he missed me because all I could talk about was the person I had allowed to become my whole life.

And in the end, both of them stopped talking to me.

Don’t believe anyone when they say the second part of that post. It’s bullshit and I’m really tired of seeing it romanticized. It tells people (especailly young girls) that this is an okay way for a relationship to be, that this is what they should be doing. 

There is nothing selfish about demanding that your emotional labour be reciprocated. That’s what makes a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) healthy. That’s what love is. Both people giving. Both people supportin each other. Not one person giving until they have nothing left for themself.