if i had a british accent i would never shut up


An anon asked for a Reid fic where the reader is British and he gets turned on by her accent.  The team teases him for it and he eventually has to explain to the reader why he gets so weird whenever she talks.  I love this request, I really hope you like it!  Added in here a classic Spencer Reid Quote, shout out to anyone who can find it!

It gets smutty!  Some fluff ensues at the end, it’s super cute!

UnBeta’d so sorry for any errors, also flood warning!

Originally posted by toyboxboy

“As soon as Agent Y/L/N gets here, we are going to start the briefing,” Hotch said to the team, who were all still sitting around at their desks before disappearing into his office.

“Ready for the new team member, pretty boy?” Derek teased from his seat with a smirk.

“What?” Spencer asked nonchalantly.  He knew Y/N was British.  She’d been in for numerous interviews and when she was in the training field, all the other trainees were talking about the ‘British Bombshell’ that was joining the BAU team.  

“You know what,” Derek replied.

“Does Reid have a thing for accents?” Prentiss asked.  She looked at the genius with playful eyes.

“No, he has a thing for British accents,” JJ said, shaking her head.

“I see,” Emily said with a smirk similar to Derek’s.

“I don’t know if I like the looks on your faces,” Rossi said as he walked up.  After inspecting the teasing smiles of the three agents, he clocked the blush on Reid’s face.  “What’s wrong with you, coffee catching up to you this morning?”

Keep reading

Family [Tom Holland]

Summary: Toms daughter calls you mom for the first time (fluff)

Words: 756

“Y/N, Can I stir them please?” Rosie asks, her fingers already covered in cookie dough and the slight outline of chocolate around her lips.

You watched her little brown curls bounce around as she moved, a trait she got from her father as well as the deep brown eyes and slight british accent.

“Sure sweetie! No licking your fingers until you’re done, okay?” Rosie nods and You pass her the mixing spoon and she immediately sticks it into the dough, stirring it together as fast as her little 5 year old hands can mix.

She wasn’t your daughter, she was your boyfriends. When Rosie’s mom found out she was pregnant she birthed the child, dumping her on Tom’s doorstep and leaving the world - famous 25 year old with a daughter he barely knew what to do with, but Tom made it work.

You’d been dating Tom for almost a year now, Rosie adored you and being the closest thing to a Mom figure she had, she was practically attached to your hip when Tom wasn’t home.

You heard the front door open and shut, your heartbeat picked up slightly knowing Tom was home from work.

“There’s my two favourite girls! What’d you two get up to today?” Tom comes behind the counter and places a kiss on your lips before moving to Rosy and placing a kiss on her forehead, she grimaces and continues rolling the cookie dough into balls.

“I cleaned my room, then we baked” Rosie said, pointing to the row of pre baked chocolate chip cookies

“I may or may not have convinced Rose to clean her room with the promise of home baked cookies after” You say “How was work?”

“Stressful, they want me to go to comic con for a full month next month” Tom smiles at Rosie, who happened to be eating cookie dough off of her fingers and wraps his arms securely around your waist, pressing his face into your neck (in a non sexual way of course).

You sigh, leaning back into his arms. “You were gone all of last month, do you really have to go again?”  

Tom loved his job, being Spider Man was almost second nature to him now but most nights you missed his arms around you, back pressed into his chest.

“I told them i can’t, i havn’t got to spend much time with my girls lately and you know how much i hate being away for long periods of time, since Rosie came along, she comes first” You run your fingertips down Tom’s arm, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch.

For a moment you wonder how you got so lucky, seeing Tom be so affectionate and loving towards Rosie was enough to make your heart burst and even if she wasn’t your blood daughter, you loved her like one.

“You hear that Rose? Daddy’s going to be around for a lot longer this time” Rosie takes a break from licking the cookie-covered spoon to give you both a cheesy grin.

“Really?! Does that mean Mommy and Daddy can take me to school tomorrow? Lucy doesn’t believe that     my daddy’s Spider Man and i wanna show her she’s wrong”

You and Tom both freeze up. You always took Rosie to school, did she not want you anymore?

“Darling, i’ve talked to you about this, Mom isn’t here” Tom crouches down to Rosies level, taking one of her hands and speaking to her as gentle as possible.

Before you’d come along, Tom had told you that Rosie use to always ask where her mum was. “I’m sorry sweets, you know i am”

“She is, right Y/N? You’re my mom” Rosie removes her hand from Tom’s and points a finger at you, she has to look up to reach your eyes.

Tears well up in your eyes and Tom looks at you with a large grin on his features. In a whole 11 months Rosie had never called you mom, until now. You felt an abundance of emotions, all positive of course.

“I would be honoured to be your mom, only if that’s okay with your dad” Tom nods gleefully as if he’d been waiting for this moment, which he had.

You crouch down, looking the girl who looked so much like her father in the eyes and give her a hug.

“Lucy is going to be so jealous when she finds out my dad is spider man” Your 5 year old says with a smirk, making you and Tom laugh.

Originally posted by watchingtvandstuff


hello! i got this fic idea based off this post and IM SO PROUD OF THIS FIC OH MY GOD!! btw theyre 18 in current time, 16 in the flashback

thank u for reading and thank u anna for the idea and letting me write it.

summary: richie is the lead singer of a popular garage band in derry and eddie is his ex-best friend

pairing: richie x eddie

words: 1070

“Richie, we’re on in ten,” Stan yelled from across the backstage and Richie nodded, shoving the mic pack in his back pocket. Bill tossed him a mic, which he turned on and tested it quickly. It worked fine. He placed it on the mic stand, looking to see if everyone had their instruments set up. It looked great and they practiced all week long, but Richie was nervous as hell. It was their biggest gig, 100 people. It wasn’t a lot, but it was to their small band. They had built it up from nothing and they finally got somewhere, even if it was just popular in their hometown of Derry.
   The lights were making Richie sweat even more than he already had been. Less than a minute to go.
   “Five… four…” Richie’s heart was pounding, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on the microphone. “Three… two…” A drip of sweat fell down his face. “One…”
   The curtains pulled back and cheers erupted from the crowd. A smile broke out across Richie’s face, all of his nerves washing away somehow. “Hey, guys! How’s everyone doing?” His question got cheers in response. “We’ve got a couple songs for you tonight, all classics and requests from you guys, and I hope you enjoy.”
   The band played exceptionally and Richie’s vocals were phenomenal. Richie always got really into it. Headbanging, dancing, you name it. Richie had done it. Performing could arguably be his favorite thing in the world. It gave him a sense of pride knowing he could do something fantastic. They really were a great garage band, if you could even call them that anymore. “Alright everyone, that’s the last song for tonight. Our next gig is at the school dance, attend if you can. It’s free and I know everyone loves that.” Richie chuckled, gazing into the audience. As he did, his eyes landed on a familiar face that he hadn’t seen in nearly two years. Eddie Kaspbrak.
   A smile broke out across his face. He had to talk to him.
   “See you all later, goodnight!” The cheers faded as the curtains shut. Sweat was rolling off Richie’s face and his hair was soaked. His glasses would’ve been fogged, but for gigs, Richie wore contacts. They didn’t help him see as much as his glasses but it was enough for him to perform with.
   Richie hopped off the stage, going into the outgoing crowd in search of his former best friend. He spotted him, nearly walking out the door. “Eddie!” He called.
Eddie came to a stop and turned on his heel, seeing a waving Richie Tozier. He debated on whether or not to keep walking but missing his four-eyed friend won out over reason. “Hey, Richie.” He spoke softly, his voice deeper than Richie remembered.
“How are ya?” Richie asked, smiling and leaning against a wall.
Eddie shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine. How are you?”
Richie grinned. “I’m fantastic. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, I know. I have to go-”
Before Eddie could fully turn around, Richie grabbed his arm. “I know you’re probably still pissed at me-”
“Of course I am, Richie! You dropped me for your stupidass band and more popular friends. I get that. I don’t need you trying to pity me.”
Richie was baffled. He knew he fucked up, but he did not choose popularity over Eddie. He’s his best friend.
Was. Eddie was Richie’s best friend.

“Are you nervous?” Eddie asked, gently nudging Richie in the side. Richie shook his head, throwing his arm over Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m too good to be nervous.” He replied, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.
Eddie rolled his eyes, shoving Richie away from him. “You’re arrogant.”
Richie waved his finger in Eddie’s face. “I do believe the accurate term is confident, darling.” He said proudly, faking a British accent.
“Beep beep, Richie.”
Just as Richie started to reply, Stan and Bill came around the corner. “Rich, we’re on in ten. Let’s go.”
Richie scoffed. “I’ll be there in a minute, calm your tits there Bill.”
Bill rolled his eyes and him and Stan walked off.
“I’ll see you after,” Richie said, pinching Eddie’s cheek and walking off. “See ya, Eds!”
Afterwards, however, Richie was nowhere to be found. Eddie searched for about ten minutes, before finding him talking to a group of popular kids from their school. He approached the group, gently tapping Richie on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be with you in a minute, Eddie.”
Eddie nodded in understanding. That minute turned into ten minutes, that turned into 20, then half an hour. He got tired of waiting for him and left. Eddie was pissed. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he couldn’t help but cry. He loved Richie, he just wished Richie loved him back.

“I didn’t choose popularity over you, Eds-”
“Yeah, you did. Every damn day you chose them over me and I’m done. I’m leaving.” Eddie grumbled, trying to pull his arm out of Richie’s grip, who hadn’t quite let go yet.
“Eddie, please,” Richie spoke softly. “Give the Trashmouth another chance.”
Eddie looked him up and down, trying to make a wise choice. He either A, accept this plea and possibly become friends again, which in turn would start up Eddie’s crush once more or B, walk away and never talk to Richie again. He searched Richie’s eyes for any sort of sign that he’d be lying, but all he got was regret and guilt. With a sigh, Eddie relented.
“Fine. But don’t fuck it up.”
Richie smiled, using his grip on Eddie’s forearm to his advantage. He pulled Eddie towards himself, wrapping his arms around his smaller frame in a hug. Eddie hesitated, but slowly wrapped his arms around the other boy.
Richie pulled away, running a hand through his still sweaty hair. “I’ll catch you around, yeah?”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah.” He turned to walk away and paused. “You look cuter with glasses on, by the way.” And with that, he walked off. A shit eating grin spread across Richie’s face as he walked backstage to meet up with Stan.


okay ik he didnt “Confess his love” because i wanted to do a part two!!!

so lemme know if y’all want that too???

also send me a message or an off anon ask to be on the taglist, much love 


ask to be on taglist/request a part dos

thank u so much for reading <3

up in the air - part 1

find the other parts on my masterlist!

pairing: tom holland x reader, featuring harrison osterfield

requested?: no

word count: 1462

summary: tom’s travelling back home to london with harrison, and he just so happens to be on the same flight as you. sometimes, you find love when you’re least expecting it.

author’s note: this is the first part of a series i’ve planned, and i’m so excited to get into it even more in part two! i hope you like this introduction :-) as always, feedback is greatly appreciated – please let me know what you think here!


outside the window, the sky was turning a dusty pink and the tiny yellow lights that outlined the airplanes and the tarmac were flickering to life. you could make out your reflection in the glass – messy hair and sleepy eyes, somehow already looking as rumpled and exhausted as if you’d already made the journey to london. you sighed, drawing away from the glass and moving to wedge yourself in a seat between a business man typing away on his laptop and an elderly woman wearing a sweater with a fat, ugly cat on its front.

the international terminal was packed at this time of evening, choked with passengers who had spilled over from other gates and flights incoming. there were suitcases perched on every surface, families camped out in corners and greasy mcdonald’s bags scrunched up and left on the floor.

you readjusted the backpack on your lap to tug your phone from the front but it was still slightly unzipped and a few of your things tumbled to the carpet. you reached for your tube of lip balm and charger but as you went to grab your book, one of the boys across the aisle got to it first.

he glanced briefly at the cover before handing it back, and you caught a flicker of recognition in his eyes. the book was chaos walking, a favourite of yours you’d read so much that the corners were fraying and the back cover was almost ripped in two. you had a sudden urge to talk to the boy about it but it was gone in a second and instead you smiled in acknowledgement and turned deliberately to the window, just in case he had also been thinking about striking up a conversation.

a few minutes later, the business man coughed loudly and slammed his laptop shut, making you jump. you stood up abruptly, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and glancing around the area. it was still teeming with people but you weren’t sure you could sit still for another three hours waiting for your flight. you stared down at your suitcase – you also didn’t want to have to drag it along through the crowd. pushing it closer to your seat so it looked like it was reserved, you turned to the old lady beside you.

“excuse me, would you mind watching my bag for a minute?”

the woman looked up at you with a condescending look, frowning.

“you’re not supposed to leave your baggage unattended,” she replied pointedly.

“it’s just for a minute or two,” you explained, but the old woman just shook her head and turned away.

“i can watch it.”

the same boy from across the aisle leant forward and you looked at him – properly, this time. his deep brown hair was tinged with a little bit of auburn, like a burnt sunrise. it was curly and mussed up, and his navy long-sleeved t-shirt was a bit wrinkled but there was something striking about him. maybe it was the accent, which you were pretty sure was british, or the twitch of his mouth as he tried to keep from smiling. but your heart dipped unexpectedly when he looked straight back at you, his eyes skipping from your face back to the old woman, who still glared crankily at your suitcase as if it was a piece of rubbish that needed to be thrown in the trash.

“it’s against the law,” the lady muttered, her eyes shifting over to where two security guards were leaning up against the wall just outside the food court.

you glanced at the boy again but he was zipping up his own bag. his blue-eyed friend offered you a sympathetic smile.

“never mind,” you exhaled, “i’ll just take it. thanks anyway.”

you gathered your things, tucking your book under your arm and moving your backpack up onto the other shoulder. the old woman barely pulled her feet back to let you manoeuvre the suitcase past. you pulled it along to the end of the waiting area and dragged it up onto the linoleum of the corridor with a bump, accidentally letting the book slip from under your arm again.

you’ve got to be kidding me.

tucking a strand of hair between your ear, you bent down and grabbed it, letting go of your suitcase to push the book back into your bag again. but by the time you’d collected yourself and reached for your luggage, it was gone. you whipped around, starting to panic, but came face to face with the two boys from across the aisle. the one with brown hair was standing beside you, his own duffle bag slung over one shoulder effortlessly. your eyes travelled down to where he was gripping the handle of your suitcase.

“what are you doing?”

you blinked at them and the blue-eyed one looked expectantly over at his mate, waiting for him to answer for them both.

“you looked like you might need some help.”

you just stared back at him.

“and this way it’s perfectly legal,” the boy said with a grin.

you raised your eyebrows and he straightened up, looking less sure of himself. it occurred to you that they might be planning to steal your bag, but if that was the case, it wasn’t a very well-planned robbery and there wasn’t anything worth taking in there anyway. unless they liked to wear sundresses and were your exact shoe size, which you highly doubted.

you stood there for a moment as the crowd of airport travellers continued to surge around the three of you. your backpack felt heavy on your shoulders, and you felt the brown-haired boy’s eyes searching your own. you sighed.

“are you sure you don’t mind?”

“no, it’s fine. i’d be happy to,” he assured you with a shrug, and his friend smiled at you.

“we were getting bored sitting down for so long anyway.”

“okay?” the brown-haired boy questioned, and you gave in.


you nodded and he tipped the suitcase forward onto its wheels, prompting the three of you to start walking. after a few minutes of marching down the main corridor, the brown-haired boy ran his spare hand through his hair, messing it up a bit even more. he was wearing grey sweatpants and after he was done with the impromptu style session, he dug his hand back into his pocket.

“so, we didn’t even ask where you’re going.”

his friend turned his blue eyes on you and you bit your lip.


they both laughed.

“no, i mean now. like, where are we actually headed?”

“oh,” you rubbed your forehead, “i don’t know actually. to get dinner, maybe? i just didn’t want to sit in the terminal forever.”

actually, you’d planned to go to the bathroom but you couldn’t bring yourself to tell the boys that. the thought of two cute guys waiting politely just outside of the restrooms while you stood in the queue for the toilet was probably more than you could bear at the moment.

“okay,” the brown-haired boy replied, a small cowlick of hair falling across his forehead as he smiled down at you sweetly. walking under the terminal lights, you noticed his left eyebrow sort of quirked up in the middle, like a bird’s wing, and there was something about it that made him seem endearingly off-balance.

“where to, then?”

you looked around, eventually pointing to a deli a few gates down, and the boy nodded and headed off in that direction obligingly, still tugging your suitcase behind him. his friend hung back next to you as you followed.

“this is definitely a good idea,” he chuckled, matching his steps with yours, and you looked up at him questioningly.

“the plane food will be rubbish,” he explained.


there was a pause before you asked him a question.

“where are you guys headed?”

“oh, we’re both going to london as well.”

“really? what seat?”

he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a ticket, unfolding it as you both reached the deli and found your way to the counter where the brown-haired boy was already waiting in line.

“uhhh – 25C, economy.”

“i’m 25A,” you sighed, and he smiled.

“just missed.”

“what about your friend?”

the boy looked uncertain for a second, eyes ducking down to the floor.

“he flies in first class, sorry.”

you pushed away your disappointment, shrugging and motioning towards the garment bags slung over his shoulder and his fingers, hooked around two hangers.

“going to a wedding?”

he hesitated, blinking his blue eyes before jerking his chin up in a nod and smiling.

“yeah, something like that.”

the two of you joined the brown-haired boy, who beamed as you approached.

“i didn’t realise how hungry i was until i saw the food they’ve got here! do you guys know what you’d like?”

“give us a second, tom. we haven’t even seen the menu yet,” his friend laughed, but you weren’t really listening.

tom, you thought. his name is tom.



see my masterlist or tell me what you thought?

13 Reasons Why (Tape 2)

Characters: sister!reader, Dean, Sam, Crowley, mention of John, readers mom

Warnings: blood, angst, death, swearing, blackmail

Word count: 4775

Summary: Dean listens to tape two and learns the truth about what happened to your mother. His suspicion grows as he finds out more about who is and who isn’t part of the reasons why.

A/N: sorry I’ve left you waiting for so long but part two is finally here!

Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You ran inside your old house, it felt strange to be home. But that’s where this place was… Home. Your place with John was never a home, it was just a motel; a room with four walls. That’s not what a home meant to you, it was a person more than a place. That person to you was your mom and you needed her now more than ever.

When you opened up the door you had expected her to be on the couch watching a movie or something. The TV was on, however she wasn’t there. Your mom would never have left the TV on and gone to bed, so where the hell was she? You shut the door behind you and checked in the living room once more.

Heading up the stairs you heard the noise of the TV from her room. Why would the upstairs and downstairs TV be on?

“Mom?” You called out, but there was no answer. “Mom, it’s me, Y/N… I’m sorry, things didn’t work out with John.”

You walked into her room and saw her foot hanging off the end of the bed. You figured she must have fallen asleep while watching TV. You smiled as you thought of her peacefully laying there and not having to worry about anything. You wanted to cover her with a blanket but as soon as you walked in, you saw something you weren’t prepared for.

Everything stopped for a moment, you couldn’t move or breathe. Not a single sound came from your mouth, you just stood there and stared at her lifeless body covered in blood. “No.” The short word just about escaped your lips. Your throat was dry and you still couldn’t move. You weren’t sure if it was fear or shock doing this to you but it was as if you had been frozen on the outside yet your mind was screaming on the inside.

Then the smell hit you. That smell your brothers and father had told you was an instant alert of demons. Sulphur.

“Fuck. No, fuck fuck fuck,” you finally screamed now that your body finally let you move. “Mom?” You sobbed as you moved forward and held her body close to you. You didn’t care that you were getting blood all over your clothes, all you were desperate for was to bring your mother back. “Please wake up!”

You laid her back down on the bed and looked down at her. She looked so… Peaceful. That’s not how someone should look when they’re dead, should they? Before you could even begin to think of a way to fix this somehow, a voice spoke.

You jumped and turned around to see a man in a black suit, an evil grin plastered on his face. “Hello, love,” he spoke in a British accent.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you a demon?” You snapped as you stood away from your mom. “Did you do this to her? I swear I’ll-”

“Yes, I know. You swear you’ll kill me and bleed me out and blah blah blah blah,” he interrupted. “And I’m not just some demon, little Winchester. I am the king of hell.”

* * *

“Crowley. Welcome to your tape,” you revealed.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had no idea that Crowley was the demon that killed your mother. Now that Dean recalled it he realised that you never really gave details on who killed your mother. But why?

“Not only did you destroy my life by taking my mother away from me, but you also made sure I could never tell anyone it was you because you knew my secret. You held that secret over me to make sure that my family never came after you for hurting my mom… I kept you safe to keep myself safe,” you explained. Dean fidgeted in anger and anticipation. “But now I’m gone, I’m dead and I don’t have to keep my secret anymore… Now I can let it out on this tape that you are the one that murdered an innocent woman. But when people know your motive, well, that’s the real twist in this story.”

Dean had so many questions about this. He had mixed emotions: he was confused, angry and intrigued. Crowley being the one that murdered your mother wasn’t the twist of his story? What the hell could his motive have been? What could you or your mother had done to make him want to hurt you so badly? But if Dean needed answers, that’s what the tapes were for.

“So, Crowley,” you said in a sassy voice, a voice that Dean missed so much. “Let’s begin with my secret.”

* * *

“I know who you are, Y/N,” he smiled. “We just need to have a chat, my names Crowley.”

“I don’t fucking care who you are,” you spoke dangerously low through gritted teeth. Tears of anger and sadness slid down your cheek as you talked to him. “I wanna know what the hell you’re doing here, what happened to my mother?”

“All in good time, darling,” he smiled evilly. As much as you wanted to just jump forward and kill him, you needed answers. The fact that you had just lost your mom failed to sink in, the mixture of rage and sadness was more towards the fact that something bad happened and it was out of your control. Right now, talking to Crowley was the only way to take control of the situation.

“We shouldn’t talk here,” Crowley insisted. With a snap of his fingers you were gone from your mothers bedroom; you appeared in a humid room full of people with black eyes. Crowley simply raised his hand as a motion for them to leave and they did it right away, no questions asked.

So maybe this guy really was the King of Hell, he had such a power over everyone. He walked over to a large, black throne and took a seat where you stood a few feet away from him. It felt like he was your King and you were bowing down to him but there was no way you would ever bow down to this asshole.

“Why did you bring me here?” You demanded.

“We need to discuss things. There are reasons I killed your mother, and there are reasons you can never tell your brothers or your father. They would kill me,” he explained.

“That’s exactly what I want,” you spat through gritted teeth. “There’s nothing you can say that will stop me from telling my brothers that you are the one that killed my mom.”

Now, now,“ he spoke confidently. “There’s a little more to it than that, Y/N. I know things… Things you wouldn’t want your family to know about you.”

“And that is?” You questioned, you had no idea what it could have been but there were so many options. You had a lot of secrets and a lot of bad history. How would Crowley know about any of them?

“Do you remember-” he stood up from his throne, walked down the step and towards you, “-that night you were drunk, we spoke in the bar.”

Now you started to remember him. You were so drunk that night you didn’t even think about who you spoke to. He circled around you as he continued to explain the story. “Drunk girls really like to open up about their feelings, especially the feelings about their daddy’s that leave them.”

What the hell did you say about John? What was Crowley talking about?

“I remember you,” you said with a shaky voice. “But, I didn’t talk about John. You just helped me out of the bar and back to my motel room, then you left. That was it.”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” He asked with excitement in his voice.

You stayed still in your place as Crowley continued to walk around you in a circle, time and time again. “I do- I don’t- I don’t remember.”

“You really don’t remember the fact that you wanted to kill John Winchester?” He questioned and now it all hit you. You remembered the whole night. You remembered that you told Crowley about hunting, thankfully he already knew about it or you would have revealed it to someone who might then start telling everyone. You thought back to sitting in the bar and telling Crowley your whole life story; how you father left you; how your mother was all you had; the fact that you were bullied for questioning your sexuality all through school; the amount of times you had sex with countless people just because you wanted to feel something other that hurt. He knew everything.

* * *

“You knew everything about me, didn’t you? You made sure you did your research before hurting my family so that you could cover your back. When we met in that bar… I thought you were kind. I guess I always made judgements too quickly.”

Once again, Dean paused the tape. Instantly, Crowley was a dead man walking. There was no chance that Dean would let this dick get away with it. But then he remembered the message at the beginning of tape one, you said there is someone making sure they always listen to the whole thing. Maybe this person watching is also making sure Dean or whoever is listening can’t react by hurting the others.

Dean stepped out of his room. He left the tape in the player but put the rest back inside the box so he could find them easily for the time he listened to them.

John, Mary and Sam were all in the library and looking for a case. “Hey,” Sam said as he noticed Dean. “I think we found us a case.”

“It was Crowley?” Dean snapped, changing the subject of the conversation completely.

“You’re only on the second tape?” Mary demanded. “What’s taking you so long?”

“It’s hard to listen to,” Dean replied.

“I listened to it in one night the first time,” Mary revealed. The first time? She listened to it more than once?

“We need to have a life outside of these tapes, okay?” John intervened. “Look, Sam has found us a case and we haven’t been on a hunt in weeks. I say we go check it out.”

“Not all of us need to go,” Sam said as he held his laptop in his hands and looked at the case. “You two can just go, I can tell you’re eager for a hunt. I can find another one for me and Dean.”

“Sure, we’ll take this one,” Mary agreed. “I’ll go get some stuff for the road,” she told John before walking off.

Sam walked away with Mary and said it was to help her pack things but Dean was sure it was so they could talk about the tapes. He looked over at his dad who was slouched in the chair; he must have been drunk again.

“Why are you all so fine with these tapes?” Dean demanded. “Why have you all listened to them and never brought them up? Why aren’t they affecting you?!“

“Dean, they did affect us. And no one on these tapes could tell anyone anything, Y/N said it was part of her legacy to be the one to tell everyone how they ruined her life,” John explained as he stood from his chair. He pushed himself up by leaning his hands on the table. He was barely fit to drive, Dean had no idea how he was going to hunt.

“We’re family,” Dean snapped. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything!”

“We used to the first time around. But since your mother and I came back, things have been different.” John shook his head as he walked past Dean to go and find Mary.

Dean shouted before John could leave, “what about Sam?”

“He’s not even on the tapes!” John hissed. “He was the first one to listen to them and now he’s making sure all of us do too.”

Dean was taken aback by what John had revealed. Sam isn’t on the tapes. Sam is the one that you talked about on the tapes when you said the people listening are always being watched. But how did Sam know what to do? Did he know that you were going to kill yourself and not stop it?

Dean had too many questions running through his head. He wanted to ask John about it but if he tried to speak a jumble of words would just pour out like vomit. He waited to speak to Sam, he wanted answers right from the source rather that trying to get more out of John.

Once your dad and Mary had headed off for the hunt, the boys were left alone in the library which gave Dean the perfect opportunity to ask questions.

“Dad told me that you’re not even on the tapes,” Dean revealed.

Sam was shaken by what Dean said. He knew he would eventually find out, but never this early. He hated that he would have to explain this all. “I can explain.”

“Did you know?” Dean questioned which left Sam a little confused.

Sam stared at his brother with furrowed brows, “did I know what?”

Dean had to take a second to realise what he was accusing him of. Him and Sam had done some terrible things over the years, but suggesting that he knew you were going to kill yourself and letting it happen wasn’t something he would do. Never. His eyes darted to the floor, he was trying to think of what to say but it didn’t matter; Sam figured out what he was implying.

“No,” Sam shook his head. “No, you can’t accuse me of that, Dean. Of course I didn’t know she was going to kill herself, do you really think I wouldn’t have done everything I could go stop her?”

“I know,” Dean agreed. “But that doesn’t explain anything, Sammy. You’re not on the tapes, but you were the first person to listen to them.”

“Y/N left me the box with a note on the inside,” Sam began to explain.

* * *

The box was sealed and ready. You made sure Sam busy in the kitchen before hiding in the drawer in his room. He wouldn’t need to go in there until tomorrow when he changed his clothes which meant he wouldn’t find the tapes until you were already dead… He wouldn’t find them before it was too late.

It was hidden under a few of his shirts to be sure that if he did go in the drawer to put something away he wouldn’t be able to see it. When you left his room, you had a quick thought, something changed inside of you and you started to believe that maybe you could beat this.

You pushed past it. You couldn’t let that get in the way of everything.

* * *

“A few days after she… Took her life,” he stuttered as he looked down at his hands. He tapped them against the table nervously. “I found the tapes in my drawer. Inside was a note, she explained about the tapes and that I needed to listen to them and make sure everyone on the tapes heard them. She wanted me to make sure that no one could hurt each other until everyone on there had heard them. I have the note here if you wanna read it.”

Sam pulled out his wallet and dug out the note. He held it and looked at it for a few seconds before passing it to his brother.

Dean took the crumpled, folded piece of paper and held it in his hands. “I don’t know if I can. Not yet. Can I keep it for a while?”

“Sure,” Sam nodded. “As long as you need.”

“This note is instructions on what to do?” Dean asked.

“She said it’s her only legacy…” Sam replied. “She wanted me to pass it on for her.”

“Why are you?” Dean questioned. “Why not just kill everyone on the tapes?”

“Because there are people on there that I care about. And Y/N begged me to not do anything until everyone had heard the tapes… I owe it to her to make her mark,” Sam explained. He stopped tapping on the table and moved his hand to his mouth where he nervously bit his nails. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, he felt awkward and weird. He finally just folded his arms over his chest and stood still.

“People you care about are on there? What about Crowley?” Dean snapped.

“We can do something about Crowley when you finish the tapes. You’re the last one on there,” Sam told him.

“The last one? So everyone else on there has heard them?” Dean asked but he already knew the answer.

Sam nodded. He didn’t want to answer anymore questions because what you wanted was for people to know your story through the tapes.

“I just have one more question. Just one more,” Dean promised.

Sam looked up from the floor and back over at Dean; he noticed how serious his face was. Sam knew he wouldn’t be prepared for whatever question was going to follow, but he never knew those words would leave Dean’s mouth.

“Did I kill Y/N?” His hands shook as he asked the question. He knew he would have to listen to his tape, but he would have to wait through everyone else’s first.

“We all killed her,” Sam replied, avoiding the real answer.

“That’s not what I asked,” Dean spat. “Sammy,” he spoke in a sad voice, “after listening to these tapes, and knowing what you know now, answer me that. Did I kill our little sister?”

Sam paused as he stared at his older brother. Dean had never looked so broken or damaged. There was no point in lying because Sam was a terrible liar. Dean knew what the answer was.. But he just needed to hear it. “Sam..”

“Yes,” Sam finally said. “Yes… You did.”

Dean just nodded. He heard what he needed to hear, that one simple word summed it all up for him. He was at the end because he was the final reason.

“But Dean, it doesn’t mean you did it on purpose.” Sam tried to convince him that somehow this wasn’t his fault. “It was just what happened, there was nothing you did or could’ve done… It was just the final straw that drove her to the edge.”

“She’s dead because of me,” Dean concluded.

“Dean!” Sam shouted because his brother wasn’t listening to him. “I already told you. We all killed her.”

There was no reply. He just walked off and went back to his room to listen to the tapes. Dean knew it wasn’t just his fault, but the fact that he even had a part to play in this all was something he would never forgive himself for.

Back in his room, he picked up the tape player on his bed, put the headphones back on and played the tape again. It was like an endless cycle. He felt like all he was doing was listening, leaving his room, listening, leaving his room. Maybe after this tape he should go on a hunt… Even if it’s just a hunt for Crowley. Dean is the last guy on the tapes, Sam said so himself. So if Dean went after Crowley it wouldn’t stop your story from being passed on.

He held it in his hands and once again pressed play.

“So now you know, Crowley, that the people on these tapes will find out that I did want to kill my own father. Everyone knows my secret, now it’s time they knew yours. You do remember why you killed my mother, right?”

* * *

“Why did you do it?” You cried. “What did she do to you?”

“Your mother had a lot of secrets,” Crowley revealed as he stood still in front of you. “There were a lot of things about her that you didn’t know, love. It’s even one of the reasons she wanted you to go live with daddy.”

“No,” you shook your head. “She sent me to live with him because she wanted me to know my father. She always said that a girl should think well of her father.”

“Not that you ever did, considering you wanted to kill him,“ he replied sarcastically.

“You’re still not answering my question,” you hissed. “What the hell could my mother have done to make you do this?”

“Your mother,” he said with power in his voice, “was a hunter.”

“What?” You demanded. “No! She had no idea about hunting, she would never have sent me to live with John if-”

“She sent you to live with John because she wanted you to have knowledge of the life,” Crowley interrupted. “And the reason she couldn’t be the one to teach you was because she was going to do the trials.”

“The trials? You mean like- like the ones that Sam-” you stuttered. “Like when Sam was going to close the gates of hell?”

“Exactly,” he nodded before walking back to his throne and sitting down. “She was going to destroy this place, I couldn’t let my kingdom go down.”

“It wouldn’t go down it would just be closed meaning demons can’t get out! You hate earth anyway, why would you want to stay? You had no good reason to kill her!” You screamed as you stepped closer to to him. You swore that for a minute you put the fear of God in him. “You fucking asshole!”

“I did what I had to do!“ He shouted back. “Your mother became a hunter when John left you because she wanted to protect you from demons.”

“Exactly, she wanted to protect me!” You screeched through tears of anger. “She was a kind woman who wanted to help the world and you killed her so you could feel powerful… You did it so that everyone in hell didn’t know that you are weak, Crowley.”

He knew that everything you were saying was true, but he couldn’t put up with it. Not if he wanted to keep up his image as this big, scary King that ruled hell. He pushed his hand out and as if by magic you flew back into one of the pillars. When you stood up he was standing directly in front of you with a knife pressed against your face. It dug into your skin and cut along your cheek, causing you to whimper.

“If you speak a word of this to any of the Winchesters, and I mean any of them, I will feed them to my hell hounds and make sure you’re the last one and that you suffer. And even before that your secret will get out and they may even try to kill you themselves. It’s not like you ever fit in with them anyway,” he growled. “Do not try me, Y/N. I’ve already killed someone you love, you weren’t there to stop it. Don’t let it happen again.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and you were back in your mothers bedroom. The warm blood was dripping from your cheek and onto the floor. Your moms body was gone, the only thing to show that she was once there was the pool of blood on her sheet. He must have taken her to hell when he sent you back home.

Now you just felt numb. Nothing could happen to change your mood right now. Someone could literally come running at you with a knife and you would just let them. You didn’t care at all because at least you would be feeling something.

The only thing you had left now was going back to live with John. You didn’t want to; the only plus side was that you would get to live with your brothers again. You didn’t really know what to feel about Mary yet, you hadn’t known her long enough but you had a strong feeling that she didn’t like you.

You rummaged through your backpack and found your phone. You called the only person you thought you could trust right now. Sam.

You clicked on his name and waited. After three rings, he finally picked up. “Hey, Y/N. Look, I’m sorry about what dad did to you, I know that he regrets-”

“Sam,” you spoke. Your voice was at a low tone, the kind that if someone spoke in that way anyone would know something was up. “Sa- Sammy.”

“Y/N? What’s-”

“It’s my mom,” you sobbed. “She’s, she’s dead.”

“Y/N, where are you? Stay right where you are I’m coming to get you. Dean!” He shouted to his brother. You heard a door open, Sam must have stepped outside when you called. “Get the keys we need to go get Y/N.”

“Sam,” you cried. “I- I don’t know what happened. It smells like sulphur so it must have been a demon… But I don’t know who.”

“Did you see the demon?” Sam asked as you heard the Impala door shut and the engine roar. They were on their way. “What did it look like?”

“I don’t remember… It cut across my cheek with a knife but everything just happened too quickly,” you lied. “I just, I need you to come here and get me.”

Sam stayed on the phone to you until they arrived. Once they were there they broke the door down and ran upstairs to find you in your mothers room. “The demon took her,” you told them as they came in.

Dean held Ruby’s knife in his hand firmly as he moved around her room to see if anyone was still there. He then walked out of the bedroom and went to look around the rest of the house. You weren’t paying attention to what Sam was doing until you felt his body weigh down the bed next to you.

You both sat next to each other on your moms bed in silence. Anything he said wouldn’t have been enough, so he wrapped his arms around you from the side and held you close. That’s all he could do and the comfort was what you needed. Sam and Dean were the only people left that you considered as family.

It felt like all you could do was cry in the arms of you big brother and hope that his comfort would be enough to not only help you through losing your mother, but help you forget that you have to lie for the man that murdered her.

“This is all my fault,” you whispered.

“No, Y/N don’t say that,” Sam replied as he kept his arms around you. “This isn’t your fault. I promise you are going to get through this. We love you.”

You simply shook your head. “I don’t deserve to be loved.”

* * *

“You ruined my life Crowley,” you concluded. “Have you ever heard that saying, ‘keep your mouth shut and your eyes open’? Well, that’s what I did all those years. I thought my brothers would figure it out, because sometimes silence speaks more than words. But they never did… So now that I’m dead I don’t have to keep my mouth shut. And my eyes may not be open anymore but I’m glad that I can open everyone else’s to what you really are. I can open yours to what you really are. A monster and a coward.”

And that was it. That was the end of tape two. Dean knew what Crowley had done to hurt you and he had never been more angry. Rage took over his body as he thought about that accent in a black suit destroying your life and forcing you to lie to your family. Crowley didn’t just break your family, he broke your trust which meant you never felt safe with trusting someone ever again.

Those were issues that followed you until the day you died. You were hurt and alone and that was all the fault of Crowley. The worst thing Dean realised was that there were 11 tapes left of awful things that people had done to you.

He would have to sit through even more of these and know that people had hurt you and he didn’t do anything to stop it. He would have to listen to everyone else’s tapes.

But worst of all, at the end of it… He would have to listen to his.


@weirdrandomunknownperson @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @thegreatficmaster@jarpadobrien @thejulietfarciertlove @bluecookiesandbooks @little-miss-padfoot @thisnoticeisnotworthnoticing @catcherofdreams22 @fabulouslycassie@uchihababeee @lust-for-pan @chloemwinchester @mydarkxsoul @reyna-809 @it-is-too-hard @wolfshifter4life @uselesspotatonoodles @anonbyblog @the-freaks-struggle @novopsi @stop-it-ew @caitsymichelle13 @drbagels123 @craving-cas @herbscottie67 @alira100 @queenpammy13 @supernatural-fangirl13 @hayleighloatx @thelocalunicorn @ayleenw @little-castiel13 @girl-next-door-blog-blog @fandomtrasshftw @to-stars-and-back @musical-potterheadss @amazing-fandom-freak @peachyxiu @garnet–shadow @harleenq4life @fangirlpastel @hugs-and-star-wars @wayward-girl @spontaneousam @forevershadeddark @sonofabitch-spn @deanandsamsbitch @starshininginthedark @wheresthekillswitch @the-impala-to-my-dean @icesprintstring @justcallmemrsbarnes @newtthesalamander @midnighthunter13 @mikealsonlover @imincastielsarmy @jediviolet @fangirlingfanatic2442 @percussiongirl2017 @sandmanland @donnaintx @iwriteaboutdean @insane-hamilton-imagines @fanboyswhereare-you @highonpastries @annabethgranger123 @miss-miep @damiansbeloved @mandylove1000 @the-amaranthine @winchesters-favorite-girl @itsssmichelleee @notmoose45 @nieleben


Summary: AU. Your life changes the minute you meet Peggy Carter on the subway. What happens when she takes an interest in your personal life?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (+ a lot of friendship reader and Peggy)

Word Count: 7,000 (just for you Caro!)

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, mentions of Alzheimer’s, character death, awkwardness

A/N: This is long, and it’s a lot of reader and Peggy becoming friends with Bucky x reader woven in. Just a fair (spoilery) warning, it’s hella sad with a hopeful ending. I wrote this in one sitting, too, stupid JSD! This is my submission for @sanjariti‘s 7k Follower Celebration Challenge. Congrats!!! My prompt was “Is this seat taken?”

Originally posted by buckypupbarnes

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Ketch Her If You Can

Title:  Ketch Her If You Can

Summary:  Dean’s not happy when Ketch and the reader start flirting. Ketch seems interested in her, until the truth comes out, then he shows his true colors.

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Dean Winchester, Female Reader, Arthur Ketch, Sam Winchester

Word Count:  1795

Warnings:  canon typical violence

Author’s Notes: This was written for @supernatural-jackles Birthday Challenge. My prompt was the gif below. I decided to go a different route and not write demon!Dean. Also, this is smut free. Go figure.

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*Daveed Diggs x reader
*Word count: 1206

Summary: You and the rest of the original cast are hanging out at Daveed’s apartment for a little cast party when somehow, Oak gets the dumbest idea to play seven minutes in heaven, and now you’re stuck in a closet with Groff and Daveed doesn’t like that very much and basically iT GETS WILD K

A/N: Okay, so I’m ALMOST finished with part two of Broadway, but of course, I ended up getting writers block right in the middle of writing it and now I can’t seem to think of any good ideas for it and then this fic happened. Requests are open and I’ll try to get Broadway out sometime this week! Love you guys :)

Warnings: Um the usual ,,, cursing and love confessions whooP


Originally posted by wegotitmadeintheshade

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” You mutter as you take off your most precious possession, a diamond necklace your mother had given to you when you were younger, and put it into the beanie that Oak was holding out to you with a smug expression.

“Relax, Y/n/n,” Groff teases as he puts his watch into the beanie, using your childhood nickname that you despised. “Yeah,” Daveed snickered, sitting on the other side of you. “It’ll be fun.” You scoffed, blowing your hair out of your eyes as you turned to face Daveed and Groff with an incredulous expression. “Yeah, for you guys.” You huffed, crossing your arms and trying to ignore the blush that decided to make an appearance on your features when Daveed slung an arm across your shoulders.

Of course, that blush didn’t go unnoticed to Pippa and Lin, who simply looked at each other and smirked, before turning away and facing you two again.

Eventually, everyone had put an item into the basket and now Jazzy was drawing an item from the beanie, and when she finally pulled it out, everyone groaned when she pulled out Anthony’s bracelet, “no fun,” Renee complained, shaking her head before laughing a bit at the irony of Jasmine pulling out her boyfriend’s item.

“Whatever, let’s go,” Anthony laughed, leading Jasmine to the closet. “Don’t be too loud, you two! We’re still here!” Lin whooped, snickering a bit when you leaned across to smack him gently on the shoulder.

Seven minutes later, both Jasmine and Anthony walked out, Anthony with a smug expression and Jasmine with her cheeks tinted pink and disheveled hair. Oak whistled, winking playfully at the two.

“Alright, Groffsauce, it’s your turn.” Oak called out, handing the beanie to Groff so he could draw something from the beanie. He then pulled out your necklace, which made him immediately stand up and bow in your direction, using his fake British accent he used every night, “M’lady,” he teased, holding out his hand for you to take.

Of course, you didn’t notice Daveed tensing up when you took his hand and allowed him to lead you to the closet. “Don’t go crazy!” Anthony laughed, high fiving Lin and Oak, whereas Daveed just crossed his arms and muttered bitter words under his breath, which made everyone turn their attention to him and laugh.

“What? You don’t like it that your girlfriend is in the closet with Groff right now?” Lin cooed teasingly, pinching Daveed’s cheeks which made him groan and slap Lin’s hands away. “Shut up, she’s not my girlfriend,” he pouted, and it was obvious that he was upset.

“This is a stupid game anyway.” Daveed muttered, running a hand through his wild hair. “Chill out, D.” Renee rolled her eyes, “you’re acting like a child. You know they don’t like each other romantically and nothing’s gonna happen.” Daveed sighed, he knew it was true, but there was still this lingering feeling in him that wouldn’t go away.

After the seven minutes were up, you and Groff walked out, Groff sporting lipstick on his cheeks and forehead, which made everyone whistle playfully. “I’m never cleaning my face again, my love.” Groff sighed playfully, pretending to swoon as he took your hand and batted his eyes. You both sat down and you cupped his face, “I’ll love you forever, my dear.” You pretended, trying not to crack.

Daveed couldn’t take that and immediately stood up, muttering something about grabbing a drink and storming off, his fists clenched.

You frowned, removing your hand from Groff’s and looking at everyone, “what happened?” You wandered, making everyone shrug, yet you knew that from the expressions they all had, they knew. But you didn’t push and only sighed, getting up to go find the man and ask him what was wrong.

You found him, pouring some vodka into a shot glass and chugging it immediately, slamming the small glass cup onto the marble counter. “D?” You wandered, moving towards him and gently placing your hand  on his bicep, frowning up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes and muttered something, though you couldn’t understand.

This went on for a few more minutes before you got annoyed, pulling away from Daveed and glaring him. “Daveed, look at me right now.” He groaned, setting the glass he was ready to drink down and looked at you with a stone cold expression.

“What’s up with you? You were fine before me and Groff went into the closet.” You ranted slightly, “and now- now you’re acting like a child! And I don’t know how to help you!” You threw your hands in the air to make it a bit more dramatic, narrowing your eyes at him.

“God, it’s nothing, Y/n. Just leave it alone.” He growled, shaking his head.

“But it is something.” You argued back, stepping a bit closer to him which made him narrow his eyes as he took a shaky breath.

“Fine, you really want to know?” He cracked, making you nod your head. “I-I, I love you,” he laughed, no humor lacing his voice as he spoke. “This is so cheesy and stupid but when I saw Groff pull your stupid necklace out of that stupid beanie, it was the worst feeling in the world.” He continued. “And I know you would never date him and he doesn’t like you romantically but it’s still an awful feeling-”

“Daveed, shut up.”

He stopped, looking down at you with a hurt expression when you pulled his face down to meet yours, pressing your lips to his.

It took a few moments for him to reciprocate but he finally did, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up onto the counter, kissing you as if he stopped, you’d be gone.

You both eventually, and reluctantly, pulled away to catch your breath, smiling breathlessly at each other.

When you both went back, hand in hand, you were greeted with this scene~

“Who the hell put a deck of cards in the beanie?” Oak groaned, frowning at the deck in his hands which made Lin sheepishly raise his hand.

“What? Did you seriously think we would make out? Nuh uh. We’re gonna play Go Fish for the next seven minutes.”

“Why do you even carry a deck of cards with you?”

“You never know when you’ll need them.”

“You’re so weird.”

“I know.”

just like heaven (reddie)

Richie told Eddie he had something to show him.

Eddie didn’t know what to expect; when Richie had asked if he was free later, Eddie expected the question to come with a remark, a joke about his mother or about himself, but it never came. When there was a lack of jokes with Richie, Eddie had learned to take those situations seriously.

Eddie rode his bike over to Richie’s house, curiosity emerging from his questioning thoughts. Why does Richie want me over? He never invites me over. He never invites anyone over.

Maybe I’m not anyone.

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doarecords  asked:

Reddie prompt: The Losers walk in on Richie and Eddie in an embarrassing position.

okay !! disclaimer: i set every reddie fic to be when they’re 16/17ish just for my own comfort xx

“So, what’s the plan for tonight, Big Bill?” Richie obnoxiously bellowed in an accent Bev called an “English wanna be”.
The Losers stood in the parking lot of the school, Bev and Richie sharing a cigarette. Bill, Stan, Mike, Ben, and Bev would eventually all pile into Bill’s mini van after Bev decided the cigarette was cashed and threw it to the ground, stomping the last bits of life out of it while Richie protested all the while.
Eddie opened the passenger side door to Richie’s car. “C'mon Rich, I’m getting chilly and I do NOT want to catch a cold-” Richie cut him off by throwing his leather jacket over the top of Eddie with a thwunk.
“There, shweetheart, all cozied up now?”
Eddie tore the jacket off of his head and reluctantly put it on. “Suck my dick, Trashmouth!” He stuck his middle fingers proudly in Richie’s direction.
“That’s for later!” Richie snorted as he laughed and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Beep beep asshole!” Eddie shouted from inside the car.
Bev smirked at Richie with one eyebrow raised. He pretended not to notice her and turned back to Bill. “Anyway. What are we doing tonight?”
“Well, it’s Friday. So m-ma-movie night at my house?” Bill offered.
The Losers unanimously shook their heads in agreement. Bev flicked the cig onto the ground despite Richie’s dismay and slid into the passenger seat of Bill’s car, followed by the others. Richie slunk down into the driver’s seat and turned on the heater for Eddie, feeling if the vents were warm enough and pointed at Eddie correctly.
“See you at 7, Losers!” Bev sneered from her rolled down window as Bill peeled out of the parking lot.

“Richie, will you just pick a goddamn outfit so we can go?” Eddie asked impatiently, pretty much stamping his foot in the most adorably irritating way.
“Yeah yeah, give me a sec.” He muttered, glancing in the mirror one last time before turning back to Eddie. “Let’s get jiggy with it, Eds!” He exclaimed, throwing his arm around Eddie and making his freckled face hot and red.
He led Eddie out of his house and into his car, opening the passenger side door for him. “In you go, dearest!” Richie helped him into the car jokingly and Eddie crinkled his nose in disgust. But it wasn’t really disgust. It never was with Richie; but he would never give Trashmouth Tozier the satisfaction of knowing that.
The short car ride to Bill’s house had Eddie fearing for his life, as he always did when Richie drove. He wondered why he even let Richie drive him anywhere.
Richie’s car lurched to a stop in front of Bill’s house and Eddie clutched his stomach dramatically. “I’m gonna puke, Rich!”
“Oh shut up, Kaspbrak.” Richie rolled his eyes and walked over to the other side of the car and opened the door for Eddie, which had become a habit at this point.
Eddie sat still as stone in his seat, arms crossed and staring straight ahead through the windshield.
Richie sighed dejectedly. “C'mon, Eds.” He murmured, lightly pulling at his arm.
“Give me a minute so I don’t throw up!”
Richie chuckled and Eddie saw a glint of mischief in his eye, a look Eddie knew all too well. He quickly pinned Eddie to the seat by straddling him. “Oh, sorry. Does this make it worse?” Richie grinned down at Eddie struggling to get up from under him.
“Richie! It’s not funny! Stop it!” He screamed, wiggling under Richie’s weight. Although he was pretty skinny, Richie was taller than him and his lanky arms had a little fiery fight in them.
“Take a joke Eds!” He laughed hysterically, beginning to tickle him mercilessly.
He screamed. “Stooooop!” He yelled through hearty shrieking giggles.
Richie finally stopped, stretching his arms out onto the seat behind Eddie, trapping him still.
They paused. Their noses were almost touching and for a moment, Eddie saw something different in his eyes. He couldn’t place it. All he knew is he felt butterflies more than he’s ever felt in his life.
Richie’s eyes bore into his as their breathing shallowed. It felt like for a second, time stopped. Everything around them suddenly didn’t matter. It never mattered; not right now.
“R-Richie…” Eddie trailed off quietly.
Richie took a deep gulp of air, like he was about to go underwater, then collided his lips into Eddie’s.
Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise as his best friend kissed him, before eventually shutting as he leaned in to the kiss.
Soon, the forceful kiss became millions of other kisses. Eddie didn’t know what was happening exactly, and Richie didn’t really know either, but he did know that he’d been dreaming about that moment since he was 13.
“G-guys?” Bill’s voice called out in shock from across the road.
They quickly tore away from each other and Richie shot up and out of the car.
The other Losers trailed behind Bill on the front porch, eyes wide and mouths shut.
Eddie stood up, slamming the car door behind him. “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asked casually, his face redder than a ripe tomato, trying as hard as he could to pretend that his friends didn’t just witness their little encounter.
Bev tried to stifle a laugh and didn’t succeed. “The exorcist,” She choked out, trying not to crack up out of pure shock.
“Alright my good chaps, what are we all standing around for?” Richie put on his half-hearted british guy voice. “Pip pip and tally ho friends!” He swung his arm around Eddie and skipped inside along with the other Losers. Richie had a knack for making awkward moments into eye-rolling moments, making the Losers forget about everything for maybe just a few seconds.
But that moment… Eddie would never forget. Richie either. Just thinking about Richie made Eddie’s insides toss and turn, but in a good way. A way Eddie Kaspbrak has never felt before; not about a person.
When he cried in 6th grade because his mom screamed at his P.E. coach that Eddie was just too “fragile” for it, in front of the entire class, he was mortified. And Richie had held him in his arms while he cried into his chest, running his fingers through his hair gently. He had felt it then. Or when Richie spit in Henry Bowers’ face, which resulted in a black eye, when he called Eddie a fag. He had felt it then too. Or when Richie wrote out Eddie’s notes for him every day when he broke his arm, making sure they were nice and neat like Richie’s were. Stan would have been proud.
So, he guessed he had always felt it. But only for Richie. Which made him feel… uneasy? He didn’t know. Maybe he liked Richie; you know, in that way.
Are you fucking crazy, Eddie? He thought. No, of course he could never have a crush on Richie. His best friend. How cliché could he get?
Eddie snuck a quick glance at Richie, contently watching the girl on screen writhe and speak in tongues. Maybe he did like Richie. And maybe he’d have to learn to live with that, or at least try.
Richie turned to Eddie unexpectedly, making Eddie gasp in a sharp breath.
What are you staring at, asswipe?“ Richie snickered to himself while the other Losers ignored him.
Nothing.” He shot back.
But it wasn’t nothing. It was never nothing.

SORRY it was so long guys! what do you think, should i make this into a multi chapter fic? lemme know please! constructive criticism is so welcome❤️

kaysno  asked:

ot6 where Jeremy goes back to art college know that he has the funds but everybody thinks that the hot men picking Jeremy up from school are actually his sugar daddies?

now for something a little more lighthearted.

Word Count: 1700+

“Seriously,” Jeremy insisted. “You don’t have to do this.” He was clutching his art bag close to his chest, dreading the moment when Geoff would pull up alongside the curb and let Jeremy out.

It was one thing to be twenty-five and going back to fulfill his dream of earning his fine arts degree, but it was an entirely other thing for your more or less partners to drop you off personally like they were taking their kid to school.

“Nonsense,” said Geoff, waving off his concern. “Besides, we want to share this experience with you! Now you go out there and show these people what an artist you are.” He parked the car. They were right in front of the main building.

Jeremy slipped out of the car, slamming it quickly but not before Geoff said, “Have a good day!”

Keep reading

Request: Hi, I love your writing and I was wondering if you could write an imagine where you’re from Ireland and you meet Fionn through Cillian? Thank you so much xxxx

A/N: thank you darling 💕


“Uncle Cillian!” You shouted happily, spotting the man you had been searching for.

It had been awhile since you had seen your favorite uncle, he had been super busy with filming.

The two of you had a very close relationship. Your parents were both workaholics, so often you would go to Cillian with your problems. You were like a daughter to him.

Since you were a little girl in pigtails you would visit him on set. Because Cillian worked with Christopher Nolan so often, you had met the man many times. Chris absolutely adores you, he never could deny any of your requests.

Which is why he had arranged for you to stay on set for the duration of your winter break at Uni.

Cillian spun around at the call of his name, barely catching you as you flung yourself at him. You were vaguely aware of others watching you, but you didn’t care as you clung to the uncle you had missed dearly.

“Y/N, is tha you?” Cillian asked as he pulled away from you slightly. When he caught a glimpse of your cheerful face, he pulled you tightly to his chest. “It’s been so long sweetheart. You seem so grown up.”

“Seems tha Uni does tha to ya.” You told him happily, pulling away from him. He ruffled your hair affectionately, making you huff in annoyance.

“I’ve missed ya.” He smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “But wha are ya doin’ here?” He asked curiously, glancing down at you.

“Chris told me tha you guys were talkin’ about me the other day. He said ya really missed me, so he asked me to fly out for break.” You told him, causing him to smile brightly. “But let’s all be honest here. I really only came for Tom.”

A loud laugh sounded from behind you, making you glance over your shoulder. As soon as you saw Tom Hardy standing there, you moved out of Cillian’s arms and launched into Tom’s.

“How are you little love?” He asked, using the nickname he had given you back during the filming for Inception.

“I’m brilliant! Finished off me first semester o’ Uni with top marks.” You told him, pulling away to smile at him.

“Atta girl.” He said, ruffling your hair just like Cillian had moments before.

“Blimey. I’m not 12 anymore. Ya both can stop treatin’ me like it.” You glowered in annoyance, fixing your hair once again.

“Nonsense. You’ll always be 12.” Cillian spoke, making you roll your eyes.

“I’d have to disagree. She definitely doesn’t look 12 to me.” A voice sounded in a smooth British accent, making you look towards the source.

There was a boy, right around your age, standing there and staring at you. His eyes roamed your body briefly, before locking eyes with yours and sending you a cheeky smile.

“And who might you be?” You asked, taking a step in his direction. You noticed that there were 3 other men there, but your eyes were locked on the dark haired stranger.

“My name is Fionn, love. And I gathered you’re Y/N?” He asked, offering his hand towards you.

“You’d be correct.” You told him, taking his hand with a smile. Instead of shaking your hand like you expected, he pulled your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

Internally swooning, you smiled shyly at the boy, hand dropping to your side.

“It’s a pleasure to meet ya Fionn.” You told him, eyes staying locked with his.

“Trust me, the pleasures all mine.” He answered, his eyes growing intense as he continued to look at you. You could feel a flush begin to take over your cheeks, but you quickly batted it back.

“I’m Jack.” Someone spoke, but you found yourself unable to move under Fionns gaze. “Not that you seem to care at the moment.” There were a couple laughs from the other men, but you hardly even noticed.

“No! Nope, absolutely not!” Cillian suddenly said, startling you out of your eye contact with Fionn.

“Wha?” You asked, glancing at your uncle in confusion.

“Don’ ‘what’ me lassy. I know tha look. Under no circumstances am I allowing ya to be with a boy. No boys until you’re 30, remember?” He said seriously, sending a glare at Fionn. All of the other boys were holding back laughs, obvious amusement in their eyes.

“Uncle Cillian, you’re bein’ ridiculous.” You whined, rolling your eyes.

“Head back to me trailer, I’m gonna have a little chat with Fionn here.” Cillian said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“No.” You told him, holding back the urge to stomp your foot.

“Tom.” He simply spoke, making you confused. Moments later you were airborne, finding yourself placed over a strong shoulder.

“Oh you’ve got ta be kiddin’ me.” You groaned, slapping Tom’s back slightly. “Don’ tell me you’re on his side! Put me down Tom!”

“Sorry little love, I don’t really like the way you and Fionn were looking at each other either.” Tom responded, laughing slightly as you squirmed.

“Ya both are actin’ nutters! So wha if Fionn and I are attracted to each other? I’m in university! I can make me own decisions!” You groaned in annoyance, giving up on trying to get down.

“Wipe tha smirk off your face Fionn.” Cillian growled, making you laugh slightly. “Go on Tom.”

“I swear ta god, if ya don’ put me down righ’ now…” You continued to utter threats to Tom the entire way to the trailer, making the boys laugh behind you.

“I wish I had some popcorn on me. This is some modern Romeo and Juliet stuff right here.”

“Shut up Harry.”

Sparks Fly

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson



Imagine: In 1919, while looking for ripper Stefan, who went missing nearly a year ago, you have a very pleasant meeting with one the oldest vampires in existence: Klaus Mikaelson. 

Warnings: slight smut, bad words and, oh, well, it’s a vampire imagine, there’s gotta be a little blood. haha

N/A - Not quite as you requested, but I hope you like the same way, anon. :) Also, you guys could read this while listening to Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift. I heard it repeatedly when I was writing this one. 

Word Count: 2326 

Dear Damon,

I am aware of the promise I made to sent you a letter every month, so you know that I’m alive, but things have been a bit messy lately. Moving from one place to another has not given me much time to write; actually, my only true focus is finding our brother and getting him back to his oldself. Perhaps I’ll be able to do that here in New Orleans, which, by the way, is a wonderful city. You should be here to see the night lights and cheerful dances.

Oh, shucks! That reminded me I have got to meet up with my friend Lexi in twenty minutes at this famous pub. Apparently, the Original family is here (yes, the one who created all other vampires) and goes there every evening, she thought it would be a cool way to blow off some steam while we don’t find Stefan.

She might have a solid point.

Well, I will not extend myself, for I have to leave, however, don’t worry about me, everything is fine and I got the feeling this it. So, soon enough, we’ll be joining you in Paris.

I miss like crazy those cold winter days…

Anyway, kisses and hugs to you from your loving sister

                                                                                                    Love you,


You dropped the exquisite pen on the table and sighed, thinking that what you were telling him was more than enough. Sure Damon would be pleased to hear you were still breathing, because, in his mind, chasing emotionless Stefan was dead end job. Not that he was wrong, but you were never the kind of girl who would leave someone behind, especially if that someone was your own flash and blood.

“Y/N Salvatore!” A voice cut through the silence of your house. “I can’t believe you’re not ready yet.”

“Hey, Lexi.” You smiled and stood up, moving smoothly towards the majestic mahogany wood wardrobe. “I completely forgot we were supposed to go out tonight! That’s why I’m not…”

“Don’t make excuses!”

“I’m not making any.” This time an angry huff slipped, as you diverted your eyes to the well hung dresses, not being sure which one you were going to pick.

The blonde woman, who was with arms crossed against the wall next to your door’s bedroom, rolled her eyes and cave in, as usual, approaching to help you get dressed. She always had a good eye for those stuff, making anyone advised by her look hauntinly fabulous.

A short time later, after your friend decided what was suitable for the place, you stared yourself in the mirror, feeling ready to steal any man’s heart because the baby pink gown you had on highlighted your every curve, also giving an insinuating gleam to your once innocent traits. Absolutely perfect to a girls night out.

“We should go.” Lexi blurted out, after checking on the huge clock placed in one corner. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m sure that doesn’t matter” Your reply was gentle, as you worked on your Y/H/C wild curls. “But if it means that much to you, we can go now. And, maybe, we’ll find Stefan there, or at least a lead on his whereabouts.”

“Oh no.” The girl rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “We’re shutting off the ‘get my baby brother back’ thing for a night.”


“Shush. Don’t argue with me.” Now her index finger was pointed sharply on your face. “And listen: I know you love him and that he is very important. However, not everything is about Stefan. Or Damon. You are your own person, so live a bit and enjoy the pleasures of life.”

Somehow, you were not able to shout out a rude response. Instead, after a couple of minutes, you exhaled tiredly and nodded, agreeing that she was right. Lexi squeezed the nude skin of your shoulder and you glanced at her, finding her so sweet and so comforting brown eyes.

“Can we please have some fun now?”

“Sure, blondie.”

“Now that’s the Y/N I know.”

You two shared a quick laugh and left the cosy pension room, going to your natural habitat: the darkness.

Keep reading

Harrison Osterfield Imagine - Late Night Loving (smut)

request: Can I get an Harrison Osterfield imagine (smut) where it’s the Spider-Man hoco premier after party and there both wasted and they have a one. Igor stand and they don’t see each other for a few months after words and some how they hit it off in the end and start dating or like it ends in pure fluff??

a/n: i guess this is open for a part 2? maybe

word count: 1842

masterlist: (x)

Harrison was a lot of things when he was drunk; he was confident and cocky; he was a terrible dancer and he sung along loudly to the music, even when he didn’t know the words; he was unsteady on his feet and spent most of the night clinging onto the bar so he didn’t fall over - but above all, Harrison was awfully flirty.

Handing you the drink he just bought for you, he moved fractionally closer to you so that his knee brushed yours every now and then. Politely thanking him, you took a sip of your cocktail, maintaining his eye contact as you sucked on the plastic straw.

Keep reading

bad at love - part four

pairings : reddie

words : 1.7K

warings : FLUFF.

Hiya, my dudes! Just wanna thank you all for all the positive feedback I’ve received from this fic. This is the longest chapter yet bc I wanted to make it super fluffy, bc Im a sucker for that shit.

Eddie sat, brick wall hard against his back glaring at the faded beat up car parked across the parking lot. Wondering how it had gotten so late in the evening so quickly, with his red eyes and dried tears laying themselves upon his cheeks. He had hoped Richie were to come running after him and confess his undying love for the boy and profusely apologise for being a dick. And then they would share a passionate kiss and ride off into the sunset.

But, when did Eddie ever get what he wanted? For one, the sun? Completely faded into oblivion, from finishing yet another exhaust filled day only to go, start another one for the other side of the globe. He let out a sigh, and watched his breath turn to fog in front of his face. It was an unusually chilling night, and the boy sat in a short sleeve t-shirt and shorts out in the open air. Mentally cursing himself for not listening to this Mother this morning when she told him to take a jacket to school.

A loud noise distracted Eddie from his thoughts, looking around the area he saw nothing out of the usual. Glancing around to the tinted doors of the arcade, he squinted as he heard a familiar groan behind the door.

Richie could never just do anything right, now could he? Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the wall, walking over to the door. Placing his hand over the metal he braced himself to push the door forward but was met with quiet a surprise when the door came right back at him, hitting him straight in the face. He let out a groan and the small boy stepped back, doubling over while holding his noise with his left hand. “What the fuck, Richie!”  

“Eddie?” He heard the boy question as the door swung open yet again, this time slightly faster than the last. Eddie was grateful he had moved out of the way beforehand. “Shit! Dude.” Richie paused, taking Eddie’s face in his own hands. Eddie letting him. He examined Eddie’s face over before doubling back and checking again before saying “Why’d you do that now Ed’s?”

“Me?” Eddie exclaimed in shock. “I didn’t do anything, this,” he gestures to his face, blood running down from his nose. “was all you!” He let out a loud sigh, “And, don’t call me that!” He tilted his head back to try and prevent any more blood from dripping down his face. Richie hadn’t moved from his position in front of Eddie, so when he felt the taller boy’s hands on his hips it only took him by surprise. A few moments later, the sound of a zipper was heard opening and shutting. A piece of tissue was brought to Eddie’s attention, as Richie handed him the ply.

It must have been the first time Eddie had properly looked at Richie since inside the arcade because as he removed the ply from Richie’s pale hand he noticed the boy sporting a slowly forming black eye. Eddie rolled his eyes as he placed the tissue to his nose. “Why’d you run into the door you idiot?” Richie glanced to Eddie with a glint of mischief in his eyes, his mouth forming an ‘o.’

“I wanted to be your knight in shining armour.” Richie stood, forcing his shoulders back in an unnatural position, arms rested stiff by his sides and his head held back. Eddie scoffed.

“Well, that worked out so swell for you, then didn’t it? I thought those ugly ass glasses were supposed to help you see not making you even more blind.” Eddie heard Richie scoffed as he walked to the nearest bin, Richie hot on his tail. Throwing away his blood covered tissue. There was a heavy pause between the two boys, their gazes locking from what seemed like the twentieth time that night.

“ah, yes.” Richie said, breaking eye contact. Posture never reducing but now with the addition of a goddamn awful British accent. “Would the kind sir like to accompany me on a drive around our fine establishment this evening?” Eddie watched Richie take a step back and gesture to his beat-up car. “Our chariot awaits.” Richie watched as Eddie rolled his eyes but nevertheless walked toward the passage set.

Richie could hardly contain his excitement. He knew the Eddie liked him back and he was trying his damn hardest to not show how happy he really was, not wanting to scare Eddie away again. The car was silent the only sound other than the roar of the engine was the tapping of Richie’s fingers against the steering wheel to the imaginary beat. Eddie slightly relaxed against the seat, he watched the trees fly past the window a shiver descending his spine every other moment due to the cold weather outside. “Eddie.” Richie turned to face the smaller boy, watching the way his legs were brought up to his chest and his head laid against the window. Keeping one hand on the wheel Richie reached around into the backseat of the car, producing a large dark coloured sweater. He knew he would never be able to do that if Eddie were paying attention but instead using the moment to his advantage. Richie throw the sweater on top of Eddie’s legs immediately watching the smaller boy pull it over his head. The materialistic object was too big for Richie so in no way was it ever going to successfully fit Eddie. The boy hummed in response to Richie after settling into the material. “You know I Love you more than I love your Mom, right?”

The air in the car seemed to come to a standstill. “Richie.” Eddie glanced over at the boy, he watched Richie pull the car over to the side of the road sensing the severity of the conversation he was about to endure but once he car had come to a complete stop the words never came. Richie had taken his hands away from the steering wheel when he heard Eddie take a deep shuttering breathe. In the skip of a heart beat the smaller boy was settled on the top of Richie’s thighs, hands on his face and lips to his lips. Richie was stunned and not at all prepared for this, so surprised by the action he had yet to replicate any movement. Eddie’s lips felt soft against his own, his fingertips perfectly moisturized as the laid in their spot on his cheeks. Richie begin to feel Eddie pull back, but no. That’s one thing Richie did not want. Richie’s hands slide around Eddie’s waist, gripping at the back of his own sweat shirt. He admired how easy it was to hold him as Richie entwined his lips with Eddie’s own once more.

This was Eddie’s first ever real kiss. Of course, he had kissed Richie in that past but never to this extent. The amount of love that Eddie could feel Richie pour into this kiss made his heart skip a beat and a warmth in his belly that had seemed to permanently settle hoping that Richie could feel the same thing in return (he could). He couldn’t imagine having it any other way. He felt Richie’s hot mouth against his own, his lips caressing Eddie’s softer than he could have ever imagined. Richie had come a long way since kissing Eddie at the age of fifteen. But Eddie didn’t know why he had ever wanted to stop. Richie’s lips were chapped there was no doubt about that, but that all seemingly disappeared when he felt his own lips, open slightly due to the feeling of the tentative touch from the other boy’s tongue. Eddie knew how little the other boy cared about personal hygiene and yet that still did not deter him. He thought about the eighty million or so germs they were both swapping but he couldn’t bring himself to think about sharing germs with anyone else.

As soon as it begins, Eddie can feel Richie pulling back from the kiss. Eyes still closed as he hears the shallow breaths from the boy resting his forehead on his own. “Sorry, Ed’s. I could do that for the rest of eternity but I didn’t want you running out of oxygen and dying on me.” Eddie huffs at him, releasing his grip on Richie’s face and settling for wrapping his arms around his neck. Richie tightens his grip around Eddie’s waist, slipping his hands underneath the fabric. Richie uses his nose to nudge Eddie’s upward, Eddie follows suit looking into the others eyes; cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen. Richie couldn’t get enough. A small smile played on his lips. “It’s always been you, baby boy.” Richie pressed a chaste kiss onto Eddie’s lips. “You shouldn’t ever feel the need to be jealous over your fat Mom.”

Eddie snorted, as he played with the curls on the base of Richie’s neck. “Am I still the only person who can call you daddy?”

Richie’s eyes widen, and Eddie thought the boy would have gotten whiplash if he moved any faster. “W-w-what the- what the fuck.” A smile played on Eddie’s mouth, as he counted the freckles that doted Richie’s nose, which for the recorded wasn’t many due to the shitty car interior light.

“Hey Rich,” Richie hummed, still getting over the shock from the previous topic. “I love you.” Eddie bite his lip, and Richie felt Eddie’s hands slide down from the back of his neck to the front of his shirt. Both hands resting beneath his collar.

Richie smiled, “Yeah I love you too I guess.” Eddie let out an amused scoff and slapped Richie on the chest.

“Oh shut it, Trashmouth.”

Hey everyone! Thankyou all for reading!! I hope iv'e brought the end of the series to a good point and you are all happy with me :’) I really didn’t want this to end but I didn’t want to drag it on and just keep bullshitting a storyline so I needed to stop while it was at a high (if this didn’t make sense, think about why Gerard ended mcr) anywho, I would be happy to write more stuff continuing this if any of ya’ll wanna collaborate on ideas?? bc Im totally down with that

but   yeah    tell  me what you thnk and if you hve any ideas hit me up. even if its to just write lil scenes of like a date or telling the test  of the gang etc etc.

taglist : @rupkin  @tastes-like-cherry-coke  @simply-another-stranger  @croke-park-princess @scienceyyy @irwinxbmth @dauntless-demigod23  @funkymonkey021 @80srichie @kalikalooed @buckynatlarry @cealestials @im-not-psychotic @blockops2 @prkrptr @strawberry-cake456 @i-am-copper-and-tellurium  @colinmorgan @bitch-its-youknowwho @its-ya-girl-mercy @netzoflix @ladycataztrophe @thesouleater435 @thatdarksomething @rapturescouture @dies4u @delirious-trash @letgoofmygreggo @wrongsmakethewordscometolife @lugnut-pacifier @richietoziersglasses @kingkaspbrak @reddies-spaghetti @enchantedjen @avikaplanperfection @basic-internet-trash @wolfhardcereal  @tqny-stark @costecou @arianamayy @allison0609 @multishippinghoe  @protecteddiekaspbrak @dustyvistran @br0ntiide @danisnotonthisaccount @ineedcafffeine @regretful-requiem @kallililly  @fabulousthemegabitch @acourtofbooks @whalefromdenver @umbrellaholland  @whoisjjacob @richietoaster  @ringo-starr-is-a-star @lilyridehalgh2

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The Preschool Teacher - Chapter One

And the winner is…..

The Preschool Teacher! Yes, you voted and, with 36.5% of the vote, this is the next chaptered story! If this is not the story you wanted and you did not vote…vote next time. :) If you did vote for a different prompt, I am keeping the results and that is the order I will write future chaptered stories in, unless a new idea pops into this head of mine first.

All of the prompts I gave you to vote on were from novel imagines I’ve already written or started. This one I created in March and have yet to finish, although I story-mapped it a few days ago to keep me on track.

My inspiration for this story was a voice…the voice of Harry’s son. I kept hearing it in my head, and actually searched for two hours to figure out where I had heard it, because I knew it was the voice of Harry’s son in my head. I’ve pinned it down to being similar to the voice of Peppa Pig (the young Harley Bird, when her voice was still scratchy and raspy and she talked a bit slow like Harry does sometimes)…don’t judge me, I work with young children for a living. If you want to hear the voice before you read the story, youtube Harley or Peppa when she was younger (Harley is 15 now), and listen. That was my inspiration for the entire novel.

I have had huge anxiety about posting another chaptered story! This chapter has been finished for a couple of days, but I’ve had to continually convince myself to post it. I’m nervous, I think because For The Love Of Harry did so well, maybe you won’t like another chaptered story I write. Beginning chapters can sometimes be more informative, but I hope I don’t bore you in the build-up.

So, without further delay, I hope you enjoy this first chapter of “The Preschool Teacher”! If you do, please like and reblog, and I promise to have chapter two available very soon!

Much love to you all! xo



Keep reading

Mr. Darcy- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: While undercover at a school in New York, Tom falls for the pretty valedictorian and his partner for an English project.

Word Count: 3070

A/N: 3000 and several months later, I finally published another one shot!!! Yay! I’m not dead yet!


“I can’t believe it- I’m literally going back to high school.” Tom muttered angrily before biting into his toast for breakfast.

“Hey, you wanted to play Spiderman.” Harrison said, taking a sip of his tea.

“I know, but I didn’t think Marvel would legitimately send me to an American high school.”

As Harrison went to respond, his phone lit up, “Well, I got to go. Have fun at school, Stanley Osterfield.” He ruffled Tom’s hair playfully before leaving the room to answer his phone. Tom let out another huff of annoyance as he finished his meal. He fixed his hair in the bathroom mirror and grabbed his backpack, before heading out the door to his first day at an American high school.


Your AP Physics C instructor droned on about how magnetic fields are created as you drifted off into space. Just as your eyes were beginning to shut, the door squeaked open and a brown-haired boy walked in.

“I’m sorry. I got lost.” He said, handing Mr. Smith a pass. The teacher glanced down at him, then peered back up at the teenager.

“Transfer, eh?” Mr. Smith tossed the paper on the desk, “Take a seat in the back, next to Lucas.”

“Okay.” The boy said and began to walk to the back of the classroom. You, along with your classmates, stared at him as he walked; all of you wondering how-how he managed to get into the Bronx School of Science and Engineering at this point of the year. No one new had arrived since freshman year, so why suddenly in your senior year is someone knew arriving? He must be brilliant, in order to have bypassed all the tests and the waiting lists. You had a strange feeling about him. He looked all too familiar; when he passed by you and his brown eyes caught yours, you could’ve sworn you’d seen them before.

Your instructor continued with his lecture, acting as if he wasn’t questioning the arrival of a new student.


Four classes later, you saw him again. The new kid, Stan if you had heard the rumor properly, was in your physics class as well as your AP Literature and Composition class. This time, however, he wasn’t late, which seemed to please Ms. Hall.

“The AP Literature and Composition test is based upon your ability to analyze pieces of literature.” Ms. Hall spoke as she passed around a yellow sheet of paper with black printing on it, “For this project, you will be reading a classic novel and film a short movie based upon it. I will assign you a partner to work with on this project, as well as a book for it.” She then rattled off names in partners, calling you out last, “Y/N and Stanley, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.” You immediately looked over at the new boy. He simply pulled his beanie down lower and kept his head hidden in his arms.

Class continued as normal with no further discussion about the film project. After class, you went over to Ms. Hall’s desk to ask her about your partner.

“Y/N, are you here to ask why I partnered you with the new student?” She said before you managed to get a word out. You nodded sheepishly, “I did it because you are the valedictorian and my brightest student. I know you will do well on the project and I know that you will also manage to help him get comfortable in this school.”

“Okay. I think it will be fine. And, Ms. Hall, I am not valedictorian yet.”

“You’ve always been so modest. You will be valedictorian-I’m quite sure of it.” She smiled at you, “Have a good afternoon.”

“You too, Ms. Hall.” You replied, exiting the classroom. You headed straight for your locker to drop off your textbooks, so that you could head home.

“Excuse me, do you know where the library is?” You heard someone question. You turned around and were met with the eyes of Stanley.

“It’s on the other side of that building. You just walk down that hallway, through both sets of doors, and you’ll be there.” You explained.

“Right. Thank you.” When he turned to leave, you stopped him.

“You’re Stanley, right? The new student?” You said.

“Yes, that’s me.” He turned back around to face you.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, your partner for the English assignment.” You held your hand out for him to shake.

“Stanley Osterfield, but you can call me Stan.” He replied, shaking your hand with a smile.

“What are you off to the library for?”

“Textbooks-and also Pride and Prejudice.”

“If you give me a minute, I’ll walk with you. I need Pride and Prejudice as well.”

“Oh okay.” Stan said, waiting for you as you finished up at your locker.

“I have a copy of it, but I’m afraid my sister took it back to Florida, so I’ll most likely never get it back.”

“So you’ve read it before?” He asked as you both headed down the hallway towards the library.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites. I’ve always been a fan of classical literature, especially novels from the U.K.”

“Have you ever been?”

“To the U.K.?” You questioned and he nodded, “Never, but I’m hoping to study at University College London next year.”

“UCL? Isn’t it hard to get into?”

“I suppose, but I’m hopeful.”

“Well, you’ll love it there. I’ve been to the U.K. quite a few times and it’s great.”

“Do you have family there?” You asked and Tom laughed with a nod.

“Yes, yes I do.” He responded as he held the library door open for you.


“So, Stan, how was your first day of school?” Harrison asked when the front door of his shared apartment with Tom opened that afternoon. He had been sitting on the couch, watching TV while eating chips.

“Boring and long.” He stated, dropping his backpack and books off on the dining room table.

“Make any friends?”

“No; besides, I’m only here for a month.” He stole the bag of chips from Harrison on his way to his room.

“What are all the numbers on your hand then?” Harrison called after Tom.

“Homework.” He responded as he shut the door between them. Tom looked down at his hand where the numbers were written. He hadn’t meant to make friends, but he somehow had become acquainted with you on his first day. He didn’t refuse when you offered to give him your number, so that you could communicate for the project. He continued to tell himself that it was for a project and not for any sort of relationship.


A few weeks later:

“Stan, I’m serious. The project is due next week and we still have to film and edit it. When will you be open?” You questioned as the two of you walked down the school hallway. Tom kept joking around and you could see that he was far from taking this project seriously.

“I can do whenever. I haven’t got any plans this weekend.”

“Ok, so we’ll film at my place tomorrow. And then you are going to study for that physics test.”

“But physics is boring.” He whined as you opened your locker.

“Oh well. You need to pass this test.”

“But it’s so hard. I don’t understand anything.”

“I really have no clue how you got into this school. You don’t know a thing about science at all.”

“I know Newton’s three laws.”

“Stan, everyone knows that.” You laughed, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’m an idiot, but that’s why I have you-the smartest girl in school- to help me.” He smiled as the bell rang.

“I’ll see you in second period.”

“See you then.” He replied as he took off to make it to class. You sighed as you closed your locker. At least it was a Friday.


“Are we doing British accents or not?”

“I can work with British.” Tom said, switching into his normal accent, as you two carried on up a small hill, where you’d begin filming.

“You definitely have spent a lot of time in England for your accent to be that good. I don’t know many Americans who can talk like that.” You laughed.

“I’ve had practice. Your turn.”

“Yeah, I think we’re going to stay with normal American accents because my British accent is terrible.” You stated, setting up the camera on a tripod.

“Alright, we’ll do American accents. Might make it less legit.” Tom said, making you shrug.

“I just want to get this over with. Ready, Mr. Darcy?” You asked.

“Always, Miss Bennet.”

“Let’s start it then.” You pressed play on the camera and got into position in front of Tom.

“I couldn’t sleep.” You said.

“Nor I. My aunt-”

“Yes, she was here.”

“How could I ever make amends for such behavior?”

“After what you have done for Lydia and I suspect Jane also, it is I who should be making amends.” Tom stepped closer to you, prepared for Darcy’s speech.

“You must know, surely you must know, it was all for you. You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I’d scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.” He stepped closer to you once more, “If, however, your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you. And I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” He delivered the lines with such ease and fluidity that you stood frozen, staring into his big brown eyes, completing forgetting about the rest of the world.

“Y/N.” He mumbled, causing you to snap out of your trance.

“Right! My line!”

“Were you distracted?” Tom teased as you went to stop the camera.

“No, what makes you say that?”

“You just kind of zoned out staring at me. Does that mean I’m a good Darcy?” He asked and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Let’s run it again.”

“Can you handle that?”

“I’m fine. I just forgot my line. That’s all.”

You ran through the scene a few more times and each time you were amazed by Tom. As you were packing up you camera, your stomach growled at you.

“Are you hungry? We can go get something to eat.” Tom asked, putting on his sunglasses, despite it being overcast.

“Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“I know this amazing taco place not too far from here.”

“Sounds good to me.” You shrugged, zipping up your camera bag. Tom took your hand, leading you through the park to the taco place, which turned out to be a taco truck.

“When you said amazing, I was thinking fancy restaurant.” You laughed, taking a bite of your taco.

“Is this not fancy?” Tom asked, accidentally slipping into his British accent.

“I still can’t believe you can speak with a good British accent.” You stated.

“I’ll have to take you there someday.”

“Take me where?”


“I can’t afford a spontaneous trip to England, Stan.”

“True, because you’ll be going there next year.”

“I haven’t gotten my acceptance letter yet. I’m starting to get worried.”

“If you don’t get in to UCL, that’s okay. You’ve got a handful of other brilliant colleges waiting for you.”

“I know, but UCL has always been my dream.”

“You’ll be fine. I believe in you.” He encouraged as your phone went off.

“Sorry, Stan, I have to go. My mom wants me home.” You stated, standing up to leave

“I’ll walk you home.” He replied, following your actions. Tom walked beside you the entire walk home as you two continued your chat.

“Well, this is me.” You said, “Thank you fro tonight, Stan. I had fun.”

“Me too.” He replied. You both awkwardly stood there for a moment, waiting for the other to make a move. You turned towards the door.

“I should go.”

“Wait.” He called out and you turned back around to him. “I really like you, Y/N.”

“I like you too, Stan.”

“No,” he said, getting closer to you, “I really like you.” He repeated, leaning in to kiss you.


“How was filming?” Your sister asked you when you walked in the door.

“It was great.” You smiled, “We got everything done.”

“Seems like something more happened.” She said.

“Nothing happened. What are you watching?” You asked, looking at the TV.

“Captain America: Civil War.”

“Is Thor in it?” You asked. You’re not one to be big on superheroes, but you did have a soft spot for the God of thunder.

“No, but Spiderman and Black Panther are in it.”

“I didn’t think Spiderman was an Avenger.”

“It’s a long story. He’s about to pop up, wanna watch?”

“For a few, but I’ve got chores.” You said, sitting beside her on the couch as she played it. “Queens” was shown in big, bold letters as a song began to play.

“How was school today?” A woman off-screen asked as the camera focused on the back of a teenage boy.

“Okay. This crazy car parked outside-” he cut himself short as he saw whatever was behind the camera. You didn’t care about the plot-you cared about the character.


“What?” Your sister asked.

“That’s Stan.” You said in disbelief.

“Stan? Stan who?”

“Stanley Osterfield. He’s new to my school and we’re partners for an English project.”

“That’s Tom Holland-not Stanley Osterfield.”

“They look the same and speak the same.” You pulled out your phone and searched up the unknown actor. “I don’t believe this.”


“They are literally the same person. He’s faking it. He’s British and he’s 20.”

“Hey, Y/N, look what came today?” Your mom said, showing you an envelope with the letters UCL in bold.

“It came!” You shrieked, discarding your phone to grab the letter. You opened it with shaking hands and began to read it.

“I got in! I got in! UCL accepted me!” You exclaimed eagerly.


“Hey, Y/N.” Tom said Monday morning when he stopped by your locker, following his routine. You stayed silent, deciding to ignore him.

“I heard you got into UCL. Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks.” You said flatly, slamming your locker shut and beginning to walk away.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, chasing after you. When you remained silent, he questioned you more, “Is this about Saturday?”

“What are you doing here?” You replied, halting and turning to him.

“What do you mean?”

“What are you doing here? At the Bronx School of Science and Engineering? You’re not looking for a career in science or engineering. You’ve already got a career, don’t you, Tom?”

“Y/N, I have no clue what you’re talking ab-”

“I don’t want to hear it. I know you’re not Stanley Osterfield and I know you’re not even American. You’ve been lying to me-all this time.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“This far? You’re the one who kissed me the other night.” You were furious at ho he remained calm.

“I know. I’m really sorry, just please understand I never meant to hurt you. I wasn’t lying to you when I told you how I felt about you. My name and my accent was all I ever lied about. Please, believe me.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I need time. Please, St-Tom, just leave me alone for a little bit.”

“I will, but please just know two things: first, tomorrow, I am going back to London and my time here will be up; and second, I love you and, as cheesy as it is, I never wish to be parted from you. I’ll leave you alone now. Goodbye, Y/N.” Tom walked away in defeat as you stood there trying to compose yourself.


The next morning, you received a text message from an unknown number, reading: ‘Y/N, you don’t know me, but I am Harrison Osterfield and, as Tom’s best friend, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve known Tom for many years and he’s not one to easily fall in love, but, somehow, he fell in love with you quickly. His intentions were originally to witness a New York high school first hand; then that all changed with you, on the very first day. I just wanted you to know that Tom loves everything about you. Our flight to London leaves at 9, but below is our flat address here in New York, in case you wanted to say goodbye to him.’

You sat still for a minute, deciding if you wanted to go see him off or not. Looking over at your bedside table, you saw your UCL acceptance letter sitting on top of Pride and Prejudice.

“How are you holding up, Y/N?” Your mom asked, walking into your room.

“I don’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I’m utterly clueless. I’m upset that he didn’t tell me the truth, but I think I love him, mom.”

“Elizabeth Bennet gave Mr. Darcy another chance. Maybe Tom is your Mr. Darcy.”

“His flight is leaving soon, but I’ve got school.” You told her.

“Quit making excuses and go. Go find your Darcy.” She said and you smiled, racing out of the house.

You arrived at the complex and breathlessly knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened to a surprised Tom.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” He asked.

“I came to stop my Darcy from leaving me.” You said, causing a silly smile to form on his face.

“Your Darcy?”

“If you’ll still accept me as your Elizabeth, that is.”

“Your affections and wishes have changed?”

“Very much so.” You said, taking his hands in yours, “You’re hands are cold.” He laughed in reply.

“Are you two going to continue being nerds or are you going to kiss?”

“That’s Harrison.”

“I know.” You laughed, “And he’s right. We should kiss.”

“Yes we should.” Tom said, before giving you a kiss.

I Got You Part 1

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Summary:  Sam and Dean rescue reader from captivity.  Who held her captive?  Why?

Word Count:  1484

Warnings:  Violence (alluded to)

As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated.  Tags are at the bottom. There’s still room on my Forever Tags.  Add yourself here.

Originally posted by frozen-delight

I Got You Part 1

The room is dank and musty, the mattress stained. It’s hard as a rock and has a distinct, yet unidentifiable odor, but it’s infinitely better than the floor. It’s been difficult to keep track of time in this cell, but it’s a fruitless endeavor with no windows and no regular meals to help you chart the beginning and end of a day.  

Your stomach rumbles in protest, it’s been empty for what seems like an eternity. Meals were coming at least once a day as far as you could tell, but nothing today. You ration the small amount of water that you’ve been given carefully. It seems as if maybe you’ve been abandoned or forgotten, but most likely the deprivation is a new form of torture.

The dim light bulb that flickers intermittently overhead illuminates the bruises that speckle your body. The oldest marks have faded from purplish-blue to a mottled green. The colors of your skin map a timeline of sorts, the older bruises indicating that it’s been a week at least in the hellish prison. There’s a particularly gnarly gash along your calf from a dull blade and at least two of your ribs are broken. Walking your fingers along your jawline, you touch the tender skin. Your lower lip has been split open and hurts like a bitch. Honestly, you’ve been worse, all things considered.

Still, you don’t know why you’re here. Monsters - monsters you can deal with. It’s humans that are fucking scary.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I know requests are closed but could you possible do a little blurb where y/n is Harry's current gf and she gets a little jealous that Carolina is about someone else and Harry's wondering why she doesn't like the song cause every time he asked her about it she shuts down and they fight and h gets mad cause y/n is "hindering his creativity" and they fight but then make up? Thanks love id really appreciate it

I hated that I’d become this person.  Jealousy was not in my repertoire.  I knew the deal when I’d started dating Harry Styles.  He was committed to his art.  He wrote about experiences he’d had which could range from things he’d done to people he’d hung out with.  I was lucky enough to become one of those experiences though he’d never written a song about it.

And maybe that’s where I was stuck.

We’d been dating for a year.  I resisted him at first, I didn’t want the spotlight that came with dating someone like him.  I’m not a girl who walks around in Gucci everywhere I go.  In fact, most weekends I look homeless while I run around LA in workout clothes and not a stitch of makeup.  But he’d persisted.  And he’d finally won me over.  A combination of his kindness and undeniable charm and I fell fast.  He told me daily that I was the one who inspired him.  I was his home.

But yet, he’d never written a song about me.

When he’d come home from Jamaica with new songs burning a hole in his pocket, I was almost as excited as he was to hear them.  We’d been apart for two months with limited communication at his request.  I understood, I didn’t get upset.  But I also wouldn’t say it had been easy.  Missing Harry, whether he was a thousand miles away or two miles away, was just part of my day now.  It went with the territory.

And I was blown away.  I was.  The songs were other worldly.  They were a perfect mix of every artist we listened to together.  They were Harry.  He gave me a little rundown of each song.  What had inspired him, what parts he’d written versus the parts other people had written, how the arrangement came about.  He knew I liked hearing about how the songs were built so he indulged me.  Just one more reason why I loved him so much.

He saved Carolina for last.  He said it was the song that got them out of their funk in the studio when they felt like everything they were coming up with was crap.  I liked it.  A lot.  It was fun and infectious and the kind of song I’d enjoy blasting while driving down the highway.

However, when he launched into the explanation for the song, my love for it dwindled until it was gone.

And that’s where I was stuck.

Keep reading

“You’ve moved on, I haven’t...yet.”

Originally posted by tomshollandss

Warnings: Sad Tom idk

Word count: 1649

A/N: Personally I think this one is better than the first one.

“Haz, I don’t think that this is a good idea. You know I’d love to come but-” “Well then, do so.” Harrison told you convincingly.

“But then I’ll have to bring Liam too.” You kept nursing the small vase that was standing in front of you with your fingers.

“Why?” “Because he’s going to want to know where I’ll be and then he will definitely annoy me until I let him come too.“

“Ugh, I still don’t like this guy. What do you want with him anyways.”

Distraction. Nothing more. You were telling yourself you loved Liam, but deep down you knew he was just a support helping you get over Tom.

You two broke up four months ago. And then you met Liam. He was a decent guy, though he had his moments where he would get unbelievably jealous.

Harrison and you still meet up and he had invited you to his birthday party that was coming up.

“Well then, bring the idiot.” Harrison gave in. “I don’t think that’s appropriate with Tom being there and all.” “Come on I really want you to come! Please.”

A questioning look took control over your face. “You would really do that to Tom?” “He will be fine! I promise you.” “Hmm…I’ll think about it, okay?”

Haz nodded satisfied before taking a sip of his coffee.

As you entered Harrison’s flat with your boyfriend there was no sign of Tom at first. And after a while the flat was very crowded and the party really got started.

You danced with Harrison and afterwards with your boyfriend as his jealousy issues came up again.

However you had managed to avoid Tom the whole evening. Or at least you just hadn’t seen him anywhere in the crowd or elsewhere, although you were pretty sure you caught a glimpse of him somewhere once.

“I’ll be in the kitchen!” You yelled to your boyfriend. Haz’ flat was big for a man his age. Poor neighbours,  you thought, though as far as Harrison could, he made the neighbours agree with such a party once a year.

“It’s awesome. I’m glad that you convinced me to come. I mean you’re still one of my best friends.”

“Yeah I know. Well, I’m really glad you’re here.” “You wouldn’t know where Tom is, would you?”

“Right now I don’t have the slightest clue. Maybe dancing or upstairs I don’t know.” He shook his head, a little surprised at your interest in the boy.

You were just about to make your way upstairs where actually no one was supposed to go, when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. “Where are you going?”

Turning around you noticed Liam standing behind you. “Just looking to grab something for Harrison.”

“Okay, make it quick! The girls are literally swarming around me and I need to show them that I’ve got you already.” You just wanted to roll your eyes at his stupid, overconfident comment but you let out a fake chuckle.

Quickly your feet took you upstairs, finding Tom already sitting around the corner in the hallway that leads to Harrison’s bedroom.

You stopped in your footsteps as his head shot up, glancing at you. He had his elbows resting on his knees while he was fidgeting around with his hands. The brunette seemed everything but fine.

Your gaze fell to the floor as you walked around the corner, standing in front of the on the floor sitting Tom.

“Um…uh, do you need to go somewhere? I, uh why are you even upstairs? No one is allowed up here.” The boy stumbled over his words still looking at his hands.

“Well, doesn’t this include you too then?” Your lips curved into a small smile but it had vanished as fast as it had appeared when you saw no change in his facial expression.

Clumsily you let yourself down next to Tom, leaning against the wall. Just like him you kept staring at your hands.

As you glanced at him again for a second you noticed his glassy eyes. “Tom?” “Hmm?” He looked up at you. “What is it? First I haven’t seen you since I arrived here and now you’re sitting here with tears in your eyes.”

“Those aren’t tears, what are you talking about.” Tom sniffed shortly. “Talk to me.” You tried to get out with as much voice as you had left. Seeing him like that always caused your voice to slightly fade out.

“Nothing.” He swallowed heavily, looking at the staircase. “Tommy.” “Don’t call me that.” He responded but you joined him in the sentence. You’ve heard that sentence so often. He would   always say that when you called him that.

His head shot up once again,  his eyes landed on you shortly before he stared at the floor under his legs.

“I mean I can’t blame you for coming here. And also not for coming here with your new boyfriend. I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t ask you to be careful in what you do so I won’t be any more hurt than I already am. But I also can’t do anything about the fact that I just can’t stand seeing you with him. Seeing you alone and not being able to just be with you is awful enough.”

“Tom I, I’m sorry? I, I don’t know what to say I-” Now you swallowed heavily. Everything about what he just said was like someone put a knife right through your heart.

The tears that had formed in his eyes started to silently roll down his cheeks. “It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t be. You’ve moved on, I haven’t…yet.” Sniffing he wiped the salty fluid from his face, though new tears followed already.

This whole time Tom hadn’t looked at your face. Now it was your turn to hold back the tears. You sniffed unintentionally. Without any further thoughts you placed both of your hands on his cheeks before pulling him into a deep kiss, taking Tom by surprise.

You breathed in sharply through your nose. Caressing his cheek with your thumb you relax into the kiss. “I haven’t either.” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Are you serious?! Why bring me when this was just an attempt to get back with your Spider-Man dude anyways?!” A well-known voice rang out from the top of the staircase behind you.

“Shit. Baby wait! No, Liam, wait!” You ran after him and out of Haz’ flat. Outside of the building you finally got him to stop. “Liam I’m sorry! This wasn’t planned I-”

“Just shut up okay? You’re just making it worse!” “I’m sorry okay? I can’t turn back time, I-” “Well I know you wouldn’t do anything differently. I know you, Y/N.”

Enraged he stormed off.

The next day someone rang your doorbell at 10 in the morning, dragging you out of the light and little sleep you got that night.

Not quite awake yet you sluggishly made your way to the door of your flat. In front of it, Tom, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Ugh. Boys. I hate boys.” You let out before slamming the door, but before it could close he blocked it with his nervous foot.

Rubbing your eyes you walked back into the open kitchen, hearing him follow you and closing the door behind him.

“Sooo…” Tom seemed to be expecting something. “Don’t ask, I don’t know, I’m confused, I just woke up, you woke me up, I am hungry.” That came out less careful as it was supposed to. “I’m sorry.”

You apologized softly, standing in front of the fridge before getting out some stuff for scrambled eggs.

“One question.” Tom stated. “Hmm?” He walked closer to you. “I’ve got one question.” He explained.

“Do I love him?” You took it away before he could ask it. “How do you know?” “I know you Tom. Also given the situation that was pretty predictable.” “Well, and?”

You looked at him, slightly turning around. Silently you turn to the bowl again, continuing to make your breakfast. You didn’t know what to answer. You probably did know you just wouldn’t admit it. You let out a faint sigh.

All of a sudden you felt two hands wrap around your waist from behind.

Tom used to that every time you made breakfast for you two when you lived with him in his flat. You sharply inhaled while closing your eyes at his touch.

“Tom don’t do that.” “What am I doing?” A quiet moan mixed with a chuckle escaped your mouth. The brunette played innocent, whispering in your ear with his cute British accent. You’re pace of breathing increased slowly as his strong chest pressed against yours.

“Stop it.” You pushed his hands from your waist. His hands quickly found their way back there as he hugged you tightly from behind.

“Tohooom!” You whined playfully. He started placing small kisses onto your neck and your shoulder. “Hmm…I love you, Tom.” It just slipped out of your mouth. Quickly you turned around.

You were afraid your heart would pound out of your chest. “Son of a bitch.”  “Well, played.” You added.

“I know right?” He laughed before getting serious again. Tom took your hands in his. “I still love you. And I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon, no matter for how long you’ll try to avoid me.”

Suddenly Liam entered your flat with the key you gave him, seeing you two standing there. “Well I would be mad but since I was going to come by to end it anyways I’ll just leave it there. I can’t believe you two.” Shaking his head he left again.

“Is it bad that I have to laugh? It probably is but I mean, it was never that serious anyways.” You rambled on and on but Tom interrupted you with his so kissable, pink lips on yours.