oh goodness his face

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - Winners and Losers Rehearsal

Kousuke and Shoutarou are tossing around a 4kg ball.  

Allen is filming, and going, “What is this?  WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?!?!”

10

Much Ado About Nothing - Dance of the Tennant Edition

Tom Holland x Reader: Apartment

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

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 7,132


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps that nice universe would only ever be a daydream


No. 4: the incident where the tables have turned

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

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

Maybe because you were the one seeing him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


No.5: the incident where everything becomes clear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bad Day - Sherlock x Reader

Imagine Sherlock having a bad day and ignoring you, but you’re having none of it.
Kind of based off a roleplay I once did (but then reader would be Clara Oswald).

Originally posted by sherlockjw


“Sherlock, please!” You yelled, covering your ears in defense against the screeching violin.

Sherlock ignored you, staring out the window as he ran the bow haphazardly over the strings. You stood up from the couch, closing your book and dropping it on the wooden floor with a loud slam. Still, Sherlock didn’t react.

You stormed over to him, reaching to grab his right hand, but Sherlock turned in one fluid motion away from you, still not looking at you. 

“Sherlock!” You cried in frustration, striding after him around the flat.

He continued striding around the flat, screeching on the violin, but when he accidentally turned towards you you noticed the flash of a smirk on his lips before it darted away.

This caused a smirk to appear on your own lips as you left the room to go to your bedroom. When you came back, Sherlock was sitting in his chair, pondering.

“Sherlock?” You asked, taking a tentative step towards him. He ignored you, forcing an exasperated sigh from you. 

“Sherlock!” You said again, crouching on the floor in front of him and resting a hand on each of his knees. His lips twitched slightly but his eyes remained firmly shut.

You pushed yourself up, standing behind his chair now, you placed your hands on either side of his face. You gently tilted his chin back so, if his eyes were open, he would be looking at you. 
“Sherlock.” You whispered. Pressing the tip of your nose to his. Sherlock’s muscles twitched, and a smile crept on your lips.

“Mr Holmes!” You called in a sing song voice, releasing him you walked to be on the side of him. Softly, you pressed your nose to his cheek so your eyelashes tickled his cheekbones and your words brushed his skin.
“Mr Holmes I require your assistance for I am bored.” You whispered.

Still, Sherlock kept up ignoring you, but the corners of his lips twitched, hinting at a smile.

“Oh Mr Holmes!” You cried, dramatically pressing a hand to your forehead you fell backwards onto his lap from the side so you lay across him, “I do believe my condition is fatal.”

Sherlock gave up, and the smile bloomed fully on his lips and face, “Oh good. Perhaps now I can think in peace.”

You frowned, looking up his grin.

“You are a bully, Mr Holmes.”

“And you,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders, “Are a childish nuisance, but I have become rather fond of you.” He pecked your nose with a kiss, causing you to scrunch up your nose and close your eyes.

“Really?” You tilted your head, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Sherlock chuckled, “You should be more observant.”


MASTERLIST

Hardworking Diligent af Garrison Student Keith: The Fanfic That Got Too Long

Keith waits for the rest of the class to clear out before approaching the teacher, “Commander Iverson?”

Iverson turns around, “Yes? What is it, Cadet?”

Keith straightens his posture, “Sir, if at all possible, could I have a physical copy of the lessons’ subjects? I know paper isn’t the way it’s done most days, but I find it’s easier to work with when I’m studying.”

Iverson hums, “You think it’ll help you study?”

Keith nods, “Yes, sir.”

Iverson shrugs, “Well, it’s not like anyone else has started asking for assistance on the tests,” His eyes twitches in irritation, “even though there are a good portion of the class failing.”

Keith takes a hesitant step forward, “So I may have a physical copy of the lessons’ subjects?”

Iverson nods, “I’ll get it printed for you and have you stay behind to collect it in your next class.”

Keith nods and gives a short bow, “Thank you, Commander.” He heads for the door, “I’m going to find the other instructors to ask the same question. Any idea where I might find them?”

Iverson blinks, “Uhh, faculty office is your best bet.”

Keith nods and leaves the room. Iverson allows a small smile and goes back to work on his grading.

Keith sits on his bed, a note pad in his lap and one of the physical copies of his lessons laid in front of him. Off to the side he has a 20 minute hour-glass timer trickling away as he reads and rereads the physical copies, then summaries and shortens them in his note pad.

Who cares what people say about the pen and the paper? Who cares that it’s pretty out-dated now? It can’t be hacked, unlike a computer and it’s a limited resource, which makes you more careful of what you write on it.

Or at least, that’s how Keith sees it.

A knock on the door.

Keith blinks and puts the hour-glass on it’s side, turning to the door, “Come in?”

In walks Shiro, one of the older Garrison students. Keith flushes a little as he gives him a smile.

“Hey Keith,” Shiro greets, chuckling as he observes the bed, “I see you’ve been working hard.”

Keith shakes his head, “I’ve got a lot to do, I can’t stop or slow down. I need these notes ready and memorized long before the exams.”

Shiro blinks, “But you’ve still got two months before the exams start.”

Keith nods and goes back to his notes, “I know, but that’s typically the best time to start studying for me. Besides, with all the exams I’m facing, I’ll need all the time I can get.”

Shiro smiles and puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder that was holding the notepad; Keith shivers and almost misses Shiro talking, “Just don’t push too hard, okay? You won’t be able to do anything if you’re sick.”

Keith nods, “Don’t worry, I got this.”

Keith says into his phone’s microphone, “The first person in space was Yuri Ga-gar-in. The date was 1961, April the 12th. He made a 108-minute orbital flight in his Vos-tok 1 spacecraft.”

He ends the recording as it’s the last of that section in the book and sighs, taking a deep breath.

“Keith.” His roommate grumbles.

Keith turns and blinks at him, “Yeah?”

“It’s 12 fucking 30 in the night. Go to sleep.” The roommate growls.

Keith blinks, “Seriously? That late already?”

His roommate sits up, “What do you mean, already? You’ve been working on those bloody recordings since school hours ended! You didn’t even stop for dinner!”

Keith’s stomach growls right on time, “I guess that would explain the hunger. You think there’ll be anything left in the cafeteria?”

His roommate gives him a death glare, “No because they don’t have the wannabe Hermione Granger for a roommate. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Keith tilts his head, “No idea who that is, but okay. I’ll start getting ready for bed.”

Keith starts taking off his school uniform, folding it neatly.

His roommate scoffs, “Golden boys.”

Keith walks into the classroom with his headphones on. He starts setting up his desk as the teacher walks up to him and scowls.

“Mr Kogane.”

Keith twiddles on his phone and takes one of the headphones out, “What is it?”

The teacher narrows his eyes, “Can you tell me why you’re wearing headphones in my lesson?”

Keith blinks, “I was studying, sir.”

The teacher scoffs, “Oh really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I take this-” he grabs Keith’s phone, making the headphones snap out and leaving Keith in shock, “to play for the whole class to hear? Ya know, to help out your fellow pupils.”

Keith flushes with anger, “Sir, I told you what it was, there’s no need to yank my headphones out.”

The teacher fakes a gasp, “Such back talk! I wonder if you talk like that when you’re ‘studying’ Kogane.” He plugs Keith’s phone into the classroom speakers, “Let’s found out.”

The teacher presses play.

“-calculating a ship’s flight capabilities is easily done! It only requires-”

Everyone begins laughing.

“You sound like a nerd!” Someone in the class barks.

Keith flushes with embarrassment.

“Or a robot.” Someone howls.

Keith narrows his eyes and turns to the teacher, “There, you’ve proven I was simply studying, may I have my phone back now?”

The teacher gives him a death glare, “Cadet Kogane, you know any technology that isn’t Garrison made isn’t to be used in class. Therefore, I’ll be confiscating it for the day.”

Keith squawks, “What?! That’s my main method of studying, I need to use it between lessons!”

“Kogane, detention!” The teacher barks.

Keith growls and sits in his seat.

Shiro knocks on the dorm room door, “Keith, it’s me, Shiro! I’m here to-”

“DON’T COME IN!”

Shiro blinks, startled, “Excuse me?”

“Dude, do not make him keep studying, he is driving me mental as it is, do not encourage him do it more! I can’t take it!”

Shiro raises an eyebrow, “Uhh, who are you?”

“I’m the roommate he keeps up all night because he’s too busy studying to notice time passing! He doesn’t eat dinner half the time because he didn’t notice his hunger! Don’t you fucking dare make him study more or I’ll kill him before the stress does! He’s so goddamn annoying, talking to himself and tap-tap-tapping his stupid pens on his stupid paper! I’ve had it!”

Shiro takes a step back, “Okay, but I’ve got a question; where is Keith now? He told me to meet him here at this time.”

“Told him you had to cancel because you had a hot date! He got pissed and ran out!”

Shiro gapes and resists groaning, “Thanks. I’ll leave you alone then.”

The guy on the other side of the door huffs.

Shiro turns around and gasps, “Keith!”

Keith stands there, actual books in his arms, a note-pad, a pencil case, headphones around his neck and his phone in his pocket. He’s got dark rings under his eyes and now that Shiro is paying attention, he notices Keith looks like he’s lost a little weight. His hair is looking a little greasy too.

It’s not a good look.

“Oh Shiro.” Keith greets, a flush on his face, “I thought you had a date?”

Shiro looks at Keith and sees how tired he is. How his face seems to be turning pink with a fever. How he’s holding the stuff in his arms like it’s a lifeline. He feels his heart bleed.

“Not a chance, but you don’t look like you can study anymore.” Shiro takes a hesitant step forwards, “I know you’re working really hard for these exams Keith, but you don’t have to endanger yourself like this.”

Keith frowns, “What are you talking about? I’m perfectly fine.”

Shiro looks at his face, “You look like you’re gonna drop. Keith, I think it’s really awesome that you’re willing to work this hard for your exams. I think you’re gonna do just fine on them. But you need to look after yourself, too. You can’t win a marathon if you don’t take the breaks for water.” He takes a step forward and slowly grabs for Keith’s books; he doesn’t fight him, “Please Keith? Take a break with me? I don’t get to relax often either and I find it a lot easier when someone I care about is with me.”

Keith stares at Shiro, as if about to argue a point.

Then he looks to the ground, sighs and raises his head, “Okay. But only because you need to have fun sometimes.”

Shiro smiles, “Thanks, but to tell you the truth,” He blushes a little as he watches Keith puts his studying material in the room, “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Keith turns around, blushing but smiling and he already looks a lot better, “Yeah, me too. I mean, you’re fun to hang out with and stuff.”

Shiro flushes a little more and offers Keith his hand, “Ready to chill out a little, then?”

Keith smiles and takes his hand, “Only if you are, oh Most Golden of the Golden Boys.”

Shiro laughs and starts walking, “Let’s go then.”

THIS WAS SO GOOD??? I CRIED LET MY GOLDEN BOYS REST

A Lazy Day Off With Harry (NSFW)

Or when Harry gets bored while watching tv and finds a way to keep busy…       

“(Y/N),” you feel another piece of trail mix hit your cheek and you sigh, making a point to ignore him. “(Y/N)”

        It’s your one day off from work this week and you want to make it count by truly relaxing and reading that book that’s been sitting on your bedside table for a month. You’re on page three. A peanut hits your forehead. “Yes, Harold?”

        “I’m bored,” he whines, crawling across the massive plush sofa and letting his head fall back into your lap, effectively knocking the book out of your hands, you slide a finger between the pages to hold your place.

        “What about the film you were watching?” your hand instinctively fall into his hair, combing through his curls as he adjusts into a more comfortable position in your lap.

Keep reading

Hey Boss

Title: Hey Boss

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,650

Warning: It’s demon!Dean smut

Summary: You’re a demon in Hell that wants to serve one of the most legendary badasses you’ve ever heard of; Dean Winchester. The famed hunter, who wore the Mark of Cain, only to be turned into a demon. All this pent up rage and lack of fucks to give, Dean is more than happy to have a willing demon hanging on his every word.


“Run that by me again?” Dean slowly turned to you, swirling his glass of whiskey.

“Well, sir, I just know that a man of your power…you need a loyal servant.”

Dean just stared at you for a moment. His eyes never moved, but you could see the wheels turning in his head. Slowly sipping his whiskey, he let the warm heat rise in his body before he answered.

“Let me get this straight. You want to…serve me?”

“Yes.”

Keep reading

Familiar


Pairing: Nalu

Rating: K+

Genre: Friendship and romance

Summary: The tiny stuffed toy was her treasure - a little demon that had helped her through good times and bad. And suddenly there he was, breathing, walking, talking, emoting. And asking for a kiss. 

Notes: This drabble poured out as soon as I laid eyes on <<this>> wonderful art by @liku-bears!

It was probably the only really meaningful gift from her father in recent times. It wasn’t much — just a tiny little demon plushie. It could have easily been lost in thousands of other dresses and jewellery that he had also sponsored for her.

Had it not been for the fact the toy was a small reminder of happier times. And of her parents’ love.

One of her fondest childhood memories were of when they would all cuddle together in bed while her mother told stories. In particular, one of a tiny demon that saved lost little kids, only to be misunderstood by the children’s parents when they saw him with them. Her father would supply the dialogues for the angry people, while her mother would do those for the little children and the demon.

Lucy felt for the demon, and protested, insisting that she would have done her best to protect it had she had the chance. Her mother had been so pleased with the suggestion, that she would weave a Lucy into the story to do just that - and she would get to do her own dialogues. And they would go on and on until Jude reminded them of it being past bedtime.

Storytime had been her favourite way to spend time with her family - it was the one time her father and mother could take a break from their royal duties and spend time with her.

Her mother’s sudden loss had been very hard on her and her father, and his subsequent attempts to cope had really dented their relationship. Lucy, now at sixteen years, still couldn’t remember the last time she and her father had really spoken.

The plushie, gifted to her on her tenth birthday, two years after losing her mother, was a small reminder that despite all the evidence that went against it, her father really did care.

She had taken extremely good care of the soft toy ever since. It had a special place beside her pillow at night-time and was the last thing she saw when she went to bed and the first when she woke up. She would talk to it every day — share tales of her day, people she met, things she learnt. She would laugh with it and cry holding it. It was her closest friend, and had been for years now.

Even if it never had it replied back.

Not till right now anyway.

Lucy, the ever graceful celestial princess of Magnolia, fell rather clumsily on her bum when it — he — suddenly spoke.

“Woah, there! You okay?” came the tiny voice again, as the now animated toy (person?) leaned over the bed to ensure she was okay.

“Y-y-you’re talking!”

“Hell yeah I am!” he grinned. “Finally.”

“B-b-but you’re a toy!”

“Oi, I’m a demon!“ His face tilted to one side. "And you’ve always told me you’re a polite person. Lies!”

Lucy blinked disbelievingly, as the little toy crossed his arms and huffed.

She crawled on her knees back to the edge of her bed to peek at the toy, see for herself if he really was…real.

And while the demon kept his back to her, pouting sulkily, she brought a finger to poke him in the side.

“Hey,” he warned.

Poke.

“Hey!” His back still faced her.

Poke.

“Would you— ” he got cut off as Lucy — in a bid to try and confirm once more that felt had indeed given way to flesh — unintentionally began tickling him.

“S-sorry,” she said, not really that sorry. His laughter was heart-warming.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay,” he said, once he’d caught his breath.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Lucy challenged.

He pouted again and Lucy couldn’t help but giggle.

“I didn’t intend to tickle you, if that helps,” she added.

“You’re mean, Luce,” he grumbled.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Luce?”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’ve always called you,” he said, rolling away to make room for Lucy to climb and sit on her bed.

“You were listening the whole time?” she asked in wonder.

“Yup,” he replied.

Keep reading

Harry Styles - #SoloHarry Interview Imagine


[I too am in love with shy, bumbling Harry. I’m in love with any and all Harry’s there are, though honestly. Enjoy!]

Keep reading

Massage (Jack Maynard Smut)

AN: sorry if this sucks, I haven’t written in so long, let me know what you think! Requests are always open!

Warnings: NSFW, unprotected sex, dirty talk


————

“Con?” I whined as I walked through his and jacks apartment door.

“He’s not here, out with Ollie.” Jack turned around to face me from the kitchen counter.

“Ughhh!” I huffed as I stormed over into their living room, plopping down face first into the couch.

“Why do you need him?” Jack asked following me.

“My back kills from work and I wanted him to massage it.” I spoke into the couch cushion.

“I could do it, I was the one who taught him how anyway,” Jack rolled his eyes, I turned my head to look at him.

“Really? You’d do that for me?” I smiled.

“Of course, YN.” He rolled his eyes.

“But I’m wearing a dress..”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, babe.” He chuckled as I blushed.

Jack and I were best friends, and of course best friends do crazy shit, like skinny dip together or even sometimes accidentally see each other change.

“Alright, but no funny shit.” He laughed and nodded before straddling my legs.

I felt my dress being slowly pulled up to my shoulders, exposing my bare ass.

His hands started putting pressure on my sore spots and they instantly started to feel better.

“That feels so damn good.” I hummed into the cushion.

Jack started adding my pressure on my sore spots, earning my moans from me.

“Fuck Jack,” I moaned, his grip on my waist got tighter and I swear I felt his dick rub against my ass.

His hands slowly started to linger lower to my ass but I was in too much ecstasy to say anything.

“Jack, what are you doing?” I moaned as I felt his big hands start to massage my thighs, close to my center.

“Don’t worry, just relax.” He shushed me, my eyes fluttered shut listening to his soothing voice.

I felt his finger tips ghost over my clit before they dipped into my panties pushing them to the side.

“So wet, so pretty.” He spoke, mostly to himself.

His fingers slid against my wet slit before pushing into my core. My back instantly arched.

“Jack?” I questioned him.

“Just stop thinking YN, we’re gonna massage all the way to your core.” He shushed me.

“Fuck jack,” I moaned out, trying to push my pussy closer to his fingers. His other hand gripped my waist and held me down so I couldn’t move.

“You feel so tight, baby.” He hummed, slowly dragging his fingers in and out of me.

“Jack, I need more.” I barley breathed out.

“What do you want, baby?” He circled his thumb against my clit, teasing me.

“I need you, please.” I arched my back trying to get closer to him.

“What do you need, YN, come on baby, beg for my cock.”

“Please, please fuck me Jack, I can’t take it anymore.” I whined loudly.

“Good girl,” he hummed removing his fingers from me.

I whined at the loss of contact, Jack chuckled and I heard his belt unbuckling behind me.

I felt the couch dip as he got up and dropped his pants and boxers on the ground and then got back behind me.

He dragged my panties down my legs before sliding his between my folds.

“You’re so hot.” Jack groaned as he pulled my hips up so we were in doggy style position.

I felt his cock slowly slide into me, we both let out a moan at the same time.

“Holy shit,” I cried out, my face burying into the couch cushion.

His large hands gripped my hips pulling me into his thrust every time.

He felt amazing, his cock knew all the right places to hit, I could feel every inch of him being buried inside of me.

“Jack! Fuck me harder” His gripped got tighter, I swear I’ll have bruises there in the morning, he complied with my command and thrusted harder and harder into me.

“Jack..I’m no gonna last long.” I groaned, his hands left my hips and gripped onto my hair.

“Fuck Yn, me either.” He pulled my hair so I was pulled up against his body.

He quickly connected our lips and I immediately kissed back. He reached his hand around to my front, while we were still kissing, and started to circle my clit again.

“Jack,” I whispered out of breath, he nodded, assuming what I was thinking.

He pulled out of me and I climbed off the couch.

“Take your dress off.” He commanded as he pulled his shirt off too.

“No bra? You dirty girl.” He smirked watching me.

He sat down on the couch and I straddled his lap.

“You’re so beautiful.” Jack smiled as I blushed.

I took Jacks length in my hand and started to stroke it. I started slowly rocking my body, against his cock, sliding it between my folds.

He starting kissing my neck, trailing little kisses and love bites down my collar bones and boobs.

I lined him up at my entrance and sunk down onto him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled on his hair as he stretched me out.

“Fuck jack, you feel so good.” He groaned as I tugged on the hair by the nape of his neck.

His hands flew to my hips to help guide me. All you could hear was the sound of skin slapping and our moans.

“Jack, I’m so close.” I whined. My head fell into the crook of his neck. I started leaving love bites all over his neck, marking him up for everyone to see.

“Fuck YN, me too.” He breathed out, tilting his head back so I have more access.

I grinder my hips down harder as I felt the familiar knot in my stomach start to build up.

“Jack, fuck I’m cumming!” I groaned out. He smirked at me and bit my neck as I came. I kept riding him, trying to make him spill over the edge.

“Fuck YN, you gotta get off before I cum inside of you.” He tried to compose himself.

“Just do it baby, I’m on the pill.” His eyes lit up and he quickly picked me up and flipped us into missionary position.

His hips drilled so fast into me I was starting to see stars.

“Holy shit jack!” I was so sensitive.

“Fuck baby, cum again, you can do it.” His thumb flew to my clit and started to attack it.

“Jack! Jack! Fuck!” My back arched my eyes screwed shut, and my toes started to curl as he thruster harder into me. I felt myself being pushed over the edge again and I let myself go.

“Fuck that was so hot.” He threw his head back as I felt him cum inside of me. He kept thrusting, riding out our highs.

He kept himself inside of me as he pulled me up and sat back down so we were in the riding position again.

“That was amazing.” He smirked as he kissed me roughly.

“I was waiting to do that forever.” Jack groaned against my lips.

“Hey Jac- holy shit guys! About time!” Conor covered his eyes.

“Fuck off Con! Get outta here!” Jack pulled me against him so Conor couldn’t see anything.

“It’s my house too, prick.” Conor laughed as he walked down the hall into his room.

“He’s never gonna let me live this down.” I groaned burying my face into his neck.

“Oh well, something this good shouldn’t be forgotten.” Jack smirked, quickly winking at me.

2


Words: 5,136
Cas x Reader
Warnings: BEWARE OF THE FLUFF
Requested by: anonymous
A/N: I hope this gives you all the best kinds of feelings.


Your name: submit What is this?

”Dean?” Cas arrived just inside the motel door to find the room dark except for a dim floor lamp off in a corner. Glancing around at first the room seemed empty, but he noticed on further inspection that there was a huddled silhouette collapsed on the table at the far end of the room. “Sam?” he ventured again.

Cas took a few hesitant steps farther in and quickly realized it was neither Sam nor Dean hunched over the piles of papers and books on the table.

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and time goes on.

summary: Lin is a single father and Y/N is a single mother. They quickly become friends and then more but as time goes on things begin to happen, things begin to fall apart.

a/n: lin is the loml; 4.2k words babes.


He wasn’t the one to complain. He took things as is, so when his wife left him and left their son with him, he didn’t complain. He looked for the positive. He looked for someone who would love him even with his busy schedule and his young son. He waited years for someone just right to come into his life and change it for the better.

He was waiting for you.

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A Boy Named Dean

Originally posted by jensenfans

Summary: Dean is cursed by a witch which leads to some hard times around the bunker…

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,300ish

Warnings: language

A/N: Funny-ish, angsty-ish, implied smutty-ish, this baby’s got it all…written for @jalove-wecallhimdean ‘s SuperBusters Challenge! My quote was, “Are you sure you’re using that thing correctly?”…


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