oh look at all that mud

It’s funny because my Hero of Ferelden romanced Zevran so when I did the War Table mission to find her it was like ‘sorry I’m super busy but hugs and kisses love Lady Aeducan and Zevran’ except there are War Table missions with Zevran (which means the Inquisition knew how to contact him) and it’s just like

Leliana

are you telling me we had to search high and low for this warden and Cassandra embarked on a whole frakking quest for her and she was just with Zevran this whole time? Did no one think to look there?!

Or, alternatively, has Zevran been burning the Hero of Ferelden’s mail like ‘I’m sorry my love but they said they don’t want your help to deal with the giant hole in the sky I suppose they feel as if you’ve done enough for your stupid mud pile of a country after all those darkspawn you killed no I agree it is strange but what can you do oh look a bird’ *fireplace flares as half a ton of paper is suddenly dropped into it*

Tom Holland x Reader: Apartment

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

Warnings: cursing

Word count: 7,132


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps that nice universe would only ever be a daydream


No. 4: the incident where the tables have turned

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

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

Maybe because you were the one seeing him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


No.5: the incident where everything becomes clear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

anonymous asked:

If it hasn't already been done (I know I haven't read them all yet) could you do 71 with matt and niel? I can't ever get enough of their friendship

71: “There’s a thunderstorm outside and you want to do what?” 

The court is soup, stirring and humid, and Matt stares straight up at the ceiling, trying to catch a proper breath. He’s aware of Dan folded almost in half by the benches, holding a stitch in her side like something’s about to pop out. 

Nicky’s starfished a metre away from Matt, gasping dramatically with both arms criss-cross flung over his eyes. The rest of the team is hunched or stretched like roman statues, twisted in grotesque shapes to take the pressure off of their overworked ankles and lungs.

Inevitably, Neil is utterly solid on his feet, chest still heaving with exertion but eyes focused. Andrew passes him an unscrewed water bottle and they make eye contact for five whole seconds too long. Matt snorts, rolling away onto his front and grimacing at the sweaty peeling sound his uniform makes.

“Neil,” he calls, holding his own flushed cheeks. “Any ETA on when we can scrape ourselves off the court?”

“What?” he asks sharply.

“We just want to whither and die in our own homes,” Nicky moans.

“We have a half hour left in our regular practice plus we’re a month away from semifinals,” Neil says, incredulous. “We should be working harder than ever.”

“A month,” Allison repeats. “As in one month. As in what— over forty practices to go?”

Matt sneaks a glance and Neil has his arms crossed, his mouth sour. “The ravens will be—“

“Nope,” Allison interrupts,  “I’m sick of hearing about what Edgar Allan’s demonic fucking automatons would do. They don’t play by the same rules as us. That’s sort of the point.”

“We’ll be better fresh, Neil,” Dan says, still panting a little from her last lap. “You know what pushing too hard looks like.”

“And I know what not pushing hard enough looks like,” Neil snaps, harsh and echoey in their plexiglass cage. He swallows a couple of times, maybe trying to get the taste of his outburst out of his mouth, and then he looks away. “Some of you meet resistance and stop pushing.”

“I mean If I know anything about Q-tips, that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Nicky says.

“Your body resists for a reason.” Aaron grimaces, apparently upset to be agreeing with his cousin.

“Neil’s right,” Kevin says, and everyone groans. His eyes narrow, and he taps his racquet on the floor like he’s calling order to a courtroom. “We’re not improving. We’re stagnant, and we’re taking the extra bulk of the newbies for granted. More bodies doesn’t guarantee a win, we know this. We have to switch things up.”

“Switch things up,” Allison repeats, leaning back on her hands. “What would you propose, Queenie? You want us to switch jersey’s? Play on a basketball court?”

“The jersey thing sounds fun,” Matt says, sly. “Dibs on Dan’s.”

“Switch things up,” Neil echoes, and Matt watches helplessly as a bad idea dawns on him. 

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ghost emoji review

this is important to me

i dont.. i dont know about this one. the eyes are so lopsided and weird…why are their arms like that??? this is an unhealthy ghost and they look like theyre made of plastic 1/5 i dont trust them

this is a ghoul i can get behind!! they are a nice shade too you dont see a ghost this colour too often, very spooky too they are really doing me a scare! 5/5 good job!

hmmmmmmm.. this ghost is very friendly and kind and i like their haircut but what is that in their mouth?? is it a tongue or have they found a piece of meat??? do they want me to have it??? 4/5 no thank you…

a very nice and small ghost, i would pet them.. why do they look so tired?? wait a goddamn second that’s no ghost. they are an impostor!!! they arent a real!!!!!! 0/5 i am not a fool!!!!!!!

this is a nice happy ghost!! look at them.. they are just here to float around and say hi.. why is their head dirty though?? it is like.. kind of brown?? where has this ghost been??? did they fall into the mud or something what happened.. 4/5  i think they need to have a bath

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.. this ghost is VERY geometric and a bit too happy, certainly the least spooky of them all.. they are very stylized and it doesnt work, unless they are supposed to look like a logo.. 3/5 are they real or made of paper…

what did this ghost do?????????? they look like they did something!!!!!!!!!! i want them to stop smiling at me like that!!!! they are too cute it is unsettling this ghost is scaring me!!! -3/5 go!! begone!!

oh nooooo!!! why do they look so sad and scared!! who is this!! they are so pure and nice what did you do to them…. did they give you permission to take their photo!! why are you so mean to this ghost!! 7/5 dont do this to them leave them alone!!!

STOP STOP STOP!!! this ghost looks like they are melting or doing some kind of dance to make me nauseous!!!! this is the scariest one they are like one of those weird popsicles you get from ice cream trucks but worse!!! -5/5 stop stop aaaah

this is a very small and innocent ghost, they have the weird eyes but it works better than the other ones… i dont know just a really good ghost, spooky as heck too 4/5 i like them they are good

wow this one is colourful!! very glowy and green, extra good at spooking, kind of wonky, their hands look like they are trying to grab me but i feel like if i let them grab me i will catch their cold.. 3/5 stay home ghost get better eat soup

OH MY GOODNESS!!! LOOK AT THIS ONE!!! this is the kind of ghost i would like to see in my emoji wow!!! this is an extremely spooky phantom and so cute and handsome!!! i love and support this ghoul very very much!!!! 10/5 look at them!!!!!

the art of being a gentleman

because who doesn’t want a muggle au? 

James should be thinking about several things.

He should be thinking about his history course work due in two days or his match on Saturday. He should be thinking about the prefect timetable he has yet to organise and he definitely should be thinking about the niggling pain in the back of his knee and if he should mention it to his coach. What he categorically shouldn’t be thinking about is the pretty redhead at his bus stop and how he wants to kiss the colour out of her lips and hold it in his chest.

She’s wearing those bloody jeans again, the same as the week before, that hug her legs and around her waist (and other areas James definitely isn’t looking at). The streetlamps have already clicked on, her skin is woven gold under the amber light.

He can’t look away, won’t look away as she wanders up and down the bus stop, her fingers tapping at her phone screen and her mouth lifting into a lazy smile as she reads a text. Thunderous grey clouds hang heavy in the sky and he wonders if he is going mad, standing in the cold about to be soaked when with one call he could have a car pick him up with complimentary tea and biscuits.

The girl smiles again and he knows he’s going mad because his heart is pumping in his throat and flowers are growing through his ribs. His phones rings and he lifts it to his ear, noticing there is still a smear of blood across his bruised knuckles.

“We need your help,” Sirius tells him. James can hear what he thinks is Pete trying to move a bed. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the bus stop, I need to nip to the flat to grab something.” James tells him, craning his neck to see if the bus is coming. The girl glances at him, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth. James flashes her a grin and blood burns up the neck he so desperately wants to press his lips against.

“I thought that’s what you were doing last week?” Sirius replies.

“Yeah, I just need something else.” James winces at the silence that follows. There’s another crash and Pete is violently swearing.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that redhead who was on the bus last week, would it?”

James can’t stop his eyes flickering to where she stands, leaning against a lamppost, her silhouette cut from the shadows. “Err- potentially- anyway why did you need me?”

“We’re trying to find Moony’s philosophy notes, he’s hidden them.”

He runs his hand through his hair, it needs a wash to get rid of the remnants of mud. “Obviously, last time you used them you spilt gin all over them.”

“That wasn’t my fau- oh you utter bastard you know where they are don’t you?”

James laughs and leans against the crumbling brick wall behind him. “Look, Pads, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tonight.”

There’s more crashing and what sounds like ‘James you fucker’ before James can press end call. The girl is staring at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. He pockets his phone with a sheepish grin at her. He’s about to ask her something, anything. Words are climbing up his throat and dancing across his tongue, a ballet of letters held between his teeth.

Then the sky opens.

The rain isn’t particularly heavy but it’s the sort that seeps under the skin and lingers in the blood, James’s hair is already damp by the time he gets his hood up. The girl is shivering, her thin jumper soaked through. James’s legs start moving before his brain does, his hands unzipping his rugby bag and fishing out his school hoodie. The girl looks confused, James must too because he’s not really sure what he’s doing.

“Here, it’ll stop you freezing to death.” He says, offering it to her. She reaches for it, uncertainty spilling out of her eyes. “I’m James, by the way.”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she asks once she’s tugged it over her head. He almost misses the question, thinking too much about how she would look in nothing but his rugby shirt.

She’s staring at him expectantly, her brow crinkled ever so slightly.

“Only on Thursdays, you should be safe.”

She laughs, sunlight falling from her lips, her fingers tucking strands of copper hair under the hood. “I’m Lily,” she says. Lily. He nods, it settles in his stomach like it’s always been there, Lily. The rain keeps up it’s symphony on the pavement.

“So how posh are you, on a scale of Eddie Redmayne to Prince William?” she asks. Her eyes are alight, her voice bubbling like cheap champagne. He thinks he might be already drunk.

He raises an eyebrow, pretends to look offended, drinks in the light that’s pouring out of her. “Me, posh? Never.” Her phone beeps but her hands stay tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he lets a drop of warmth creep into his bones.

“Seriously though, I hear your school fees are insane.”

He glances at the crest stitched into his jacket, into the hoodie, into his skin. Red and gold and laughter and adrenaline and home. “I’m not that posh. Sirius, he’s a lord, but I’m nothing special.”

He knows the weight the name carries, knows the looks in the street, the eyes noting the tie and blazer, the polished shoes and tailored trousers. He knows what they think of, arrogance smirks and burnt fifty pound notes, wrecked cars and opportunities thrown about like paper in a classroom. They’re not all like that, he’s not like that.

“A lord, huh?” she says, “Can you get me his number?”

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Glastonbury

JILY CHALLENGE | @elanev91 vs @anxiouspotter

Theme: Summer Tropes

Prompt: we’re at a music festival and you crawled into my tent when drunk and fell asleep, now you’ve woken up bewildered and to be honest I should be more annoyed but you’re just so good looking

Word Count: 9033

This, uh… got a bit out of hand (#onbrand). Also, a bit of smut ahead Enjoy friends!

Read it on FF or AO3


‘Why in the bloomin’ fuck did we let you convince us that this was going to be a good idea, Sirius?’

James, about twenty back in the queue for the nastiest toilet cubicles to exist on planet Earth, shot Sirius a look that probably would have struck anyone else down immediately. Sirius grinned, grabbed James by the shoulders and shook, 'The music! The energy! The adventure!’

James smacked Sirius’ hands from his shoulders, 'No fucking part of this reads “adventure,” mate.’

Granted, they’d only been at the festival for a few hours, had only set up their tents and gone to see a few of the afternoon acts, but James was confident that the rest of the weekend would prove as non-adventurey as the first few hours.

Sirius rounded on Remus, 'What say you, love? Are you in the Glastonbury spirit yet?’

Remus sighed, 'I’m saying that you’re lucky you’re fit, because I also really want to kill you right now.’

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All Is Fair in Love and War

                                     *pictures and gifs are not mine*

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean

Author: @oppsiwrotemorefanfic

Summary/Request: @geek-girl-67 Oh could you do one where sam dean and the reader are in the middle of a prank war, and dean knows sam and the reader like each other, so while the reader is trying to pull a prank on sam in his room or something, dean handcuffs the reader to bed frame runs out the room urgently calls sam then shoves him in locks the door and obnoxiously yells out that they aren’t getting out until they confess their love or whatever and it all builds up to them having sex and Dom!sam coming out to play. 

Word Count: 2227

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Dom!Sam, a little fluff

*I’ve never written smut before so this was an interesting challenge. Sorry it got so long, I just got really into the story. Feedback is welcome!*

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the PERKYGOTH manifesto

Right! Here we go! It seems, that in these passing times, it has become fashionable, nay, perhaps even *scoff!* required of goths very much like ourselves that they reflect upon life itself with the most cynical and morose of countenances. We, the Perkygoths of the world, stand in the face of this, and reclaim our heritage as follows!

1 » We realize, and perhaps even declare publicly, the simple fact our attire and decorative tastes and downright silly, yet in the face of this impractical and sometimes even inconvenient nature of things, we LAUGH! Yes, all those skirts make the boys have to piss like girls, but hey! it contributes toward greater understanding between the sexes!

2 » There is no “standard” behaviour or code of any sort for member of the so-called “underground”, you silly gits! Why, who ever thought of anything so bleeding preposterous?! If i want to skip across the dance floor to see a friend, well damn it all, i’m going to! And about that smile i was wearing last week at the club, yes, it was mine! No, my mother did not make me wear it!

3 » Um, just cause i look like a goth right this very instant does not preclude me not looking like a goth sometime tomorrow, after the shock and horror of this realization passes by, you will note that it’s actually quite fun to inject a little variety into things.

4 » On that note, neither are we required to listen solely to goth, death rock, or darkwave. We are, however, allowed to physically assault the next person who scowls at us for slapping that p-funk, hard techno, or riot grrrl record on the turntable immediately after playing the sisters or somesuch.

4.5 » And while i’m thinking about it, we’re also allowed to clobber anyone at a club who whines about the dj playing too much goth and not enough deathrock or something of that ilk.

5 » But, if there’s one thing we mustn’t ever do, under any circumstances, it is lord our knowledge over that of others. If there is a sin, dear Perkygoths, it is self-righteousness and pomposity. We simply mustn’t go out and wave all that nifty info we just read out of good old Mr. Mercer’s handy-dandy goth guide as if we had known it all along. Cause face it, most of us weren’t even there when half of that stuff happened. (There are exceptions, of course, but they aren’t allowed to lord their knowledge either, nor are they suppose to reflect in a nostalgic and whiny manner).

6 » Oh! Right! Back to Perky! Um, stomping in mud puddles is perfectly acceptable. Dancing and realizing that you look like a complete idiot is heartily encouraged. Continuing to dance, no matter how many other people are also noting that you look like an idiot, is even more heartily encouraged. Remember kids, the look or the lifestyle? The lifestyle, of course, you’re a Perkygoth. Don’t just look like a looney, act like one! It’s much more fulfilling than primping in a mirror all night.

7 » Um, i forgot the rest. Probably didn’t even think of them to begin with. i’ve prolly lied about everything so far. Uh, am i getting paid to do this? What was i saying?

7.5 » Just remember, fun is your middle name, or at least it;s somewhere in your vocabulary. Whatever you’re doing, think to yourself: “am i having FUN?” If no, time to do something else. A short attention span means you don’t have time to get bored and mope!

let this be our rallying cry!

“DO NOT STAND IN OUR WAY! WE WILL WALK AROUND YOU!”

me @ dan: who’s a good boy? you’re a good boy. look at you. oh you’re muddy! oh you’re getting mud on me! oh you’re getting mud on all of my possessions! but that’s okay cuz you’re still a good boy and everything you do is valid mr. howell so you just dribble on me and you get me muddy and that’s okay because i live to serve

DannyMay Day Seven: Language/Weather

…He wanted to go out. Why would Mommy be so mean. It’s not gonna hurt him. She knows that. He knows that. He just wants to play outside. All the other boys and girls get to play so why can’t he?

He grumpily stared out the window.

It had been raining all day. Not too hard but enough to make big puddles. He wanted to go splash in them so bad. But Mommy said he couldn’t go. She said she was too busy to watch him and he was too little to go out all alone. He wasn’t too little! He was three and a half! That’s almost a big kid!

Jazz could go out by herself. It wasn’t fair. Just cuz Jazz was two years older. He pouts and crosses his little arms. Mommy and Daddy are always too busy when he wants to play. He looks over his shoulder at the couch where Jazz is sitting. She’s reading a book with big words in them. He pouts some more and plops down on the floor.

He can tell that Jazz is looking at him. Good! Cuz he’s gonna be mad forever until he can go play in the rain. He hears Jazz close the book.

“Danny, you ok?”

“I wanna play outside”

“Danny, Mommy said no”

“But I wanna go! It’s not fair!”

Jazz sighs. He turns to look at her. She puts her book down and walks down to the lab. Fine! He’ll just sit here all alone and be mad. He glares at the window. Watching as the rain made little drops on the glass. He sighs sadly, tracing shapes in the foggy window for what feels like hours.

“Danny! Danny!”

Jazz yells all happy. He remembers to be mad and puts on his best angry face. He turns around. Jazz is wearing her raincoat and boots. He feels so betrayed. She’s gonna go play in the backyard without him…oh…wait. Jazz grinning from ear to ear pulls out from behind her back Danny’s raincoat and boots. He gasps.

“Mommy said that if I go with you and we stay in the backyard then you can play in the rain.”

Danny smiles so hard his face hurts. He bounces up and runs over to Jazz and hugs her real tight. He has to get on his tippy-toes just to reach her waist.

“Jazzy, you’re the best big sis ever!”

Screaming thank you at her he lets go and dashes down to the lab. Mommy and Daddy turn to look at him and he hugs them one by one yelling thank you and I love you.

Running back up he finds Jazz giggling. He grins at her and puts on his rain gear in record time. His first time playing in the rain is finally going to happen! He grabs her hand and starts pulling.

“C'mon Jazzy! Hurry!”

“Ok, ok, slow down Danny”

He’s bouncing with anticipation. He can’t reach the doorknob so Jazz has to open the door for him. It feels like an eternity before the door is finally open he dashes out the door and down the stairs, forgetting that they’re wet and slippery. He flipped over the stairs and landed face first in the grass. Jazz screeches.

“DANNY! OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK?”

He slowly gets up on his hands and knees. Already wet and covered in mud. Jazz crouches beside him scrambling asking if it hurts, checking him all over. He slowly looks up at her and she stops all actions. His eyes are sparkling.

“THAT WAS AWESOME!”

Jazz sighs as he starts giggling. He gets up and jumps into a big puddle. The resulting splash is out of this world. It was the single most amazing moment of his entire life. The sun came out and shone upon him. Rays of heavenly light touching his skin. He can almost hear a choir of angels singing. He faintly hears Jazz trying-and failing-not to laugh.

He spent the whole day splashing around. He even got Jazz to play with him. They were jumping in puddles, dancing around, playing tag, you name it. By the time the sun was setting they were super tired. Happy but tired. Mommy caught them coming back in. She snorts.

“Did you two have fun today?”

“Yeah! It was great! Jazzy played with me too!”

“I can see that”

Mommy looks at them. They’re all covered in mud and soaked to the bone. But he wouldn’t change a thing. His first time playing in the rain and it was awesome. He smiles up at mommy feeling like the king of the world. She picks him up and grabs Jazz’s hand.

“Ok you two, now it’s bath time”

“Awwwww!”

Handprints (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: You almost hit Bucky Barnes with your car, leaving an impressive handprint on your hood. If only you knew then what else those hands would do.

 Words: 1,308

 Warnings: blood, bruising, near-death action stuff, swearing, smut,

 A/N: I really wanted to experiment with my writing style for this one, I tried to make it feel more like a poem or stylized prose while taking a kind of minimalist approach, but I didn’t really stick to that as strictly as I would have liked. I’d love to hear what ya’ll think about the style (and anything else- i’m always open to constructive criticism)

HUGE shout-out to the amazing @lowkeybuckytrash for proofreading this for me and being an all around wonderful person <3 <3


Your hand searches blindly for the ringing phone in your bag. You’re trying to keep your eyes on the road. Finally, you find it in the depths of your bag and answer the call without looking. “Talk to me.” You pull up to a red light and roll to a stop.

“Hey, this is Hill. Are you on your way to the tower? There’s been a development in the case, we need you here for the mission brief, ASAP.”

The light turns green, you rush forward.

“Yeah, I’m already on my way, just a few blocks out. What happened that it’s suddenly so urgent?”

“Another scientist has gone missing, this is more serious than we thought.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a-SHIT!”

You slam the brakes.

A hand! The screeching of tires and the sound of crunching metal. A metal hand crashes into the hood of your car, forcing you to a stop. You look up, shaken; bright blue eyes glare at you through the windshield. The lights had changed, you hadn’t noticed.

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3

For: Anon

Imagine: Getting caught in the rain with Dallas Winston.

“Dally, you two should go, you really don’t need to walk me home,” You tell one of your closest friends, Dallas Winston.  You were at Buck’s place for a party, Dally was walking Sylvia home, and he was insisting on taking you with him since your house was on the way to hers.

“Ya wanna get jumped again Y/N?” Dally has always been so damn blunt, and to be completely honest you were a little afraid, not that you’d ever admit it.

“Dallas, let’s go!” Sylvia says rolling her eyes, this bitch was Dally’s stuck up girlfriend and she hated you. She was constantly two-timing Dally, yet she couldn’t stand the fact that Dallas’ best friend was a girl.

“Alright Sylvia, Y/N will be coming along,” Dally responds, dragging you with him.

“Ugh, fine,” Sylvia says in pure disgust. You join the couple and the three of you head out. You instantly regret it as Sylvia practically throws herself on to Dally. Fuck this, just get me home already.

*Boom* You screech and jump at the sound of the booming thunder as Sylvia grips onto Dally, he chuckles slightly and rolls his eyes.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain, we should take a short-cut through the park,” Dally calls before making his way towards the grass.

You take off your heels and run after him, and Sylvia tiptoes through the grass trying to avoid getting her dress and shoes dirty. Suddenly you hear Dally cry out, “Fuck!”

You look around and see Dally lying on the ground in the mud, you burst into laughter, “What happened?”

“I slipped,” He says, forcing himself to look annoyed.

“Here,” You say giving him your hand, “Let me help you up Dal.”

Dally takes your hand and you pull him up half way before pushing him back into the mud, causing it to go splashing everywhere, he curses and you continue laughing, at this point you can’t tell if there’s tears streaming down your face or if its rain, “What the fuck Y/N?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Dal, here, give me your hand, I actually help you up this time,” He looks at you reluctantly, and tries to get up himself, but he slips again in the process, “I promise I won’t let go this time Dally, trust me.”

“Will you hurry the fuck up?!” Sylvia says, getting annoyed.

“Alright doll, I’ll trust ya,” Dally takes your hand, and just as you’re about to pull him up, he pulls you down instead, you cry out as you fall on top of him. He takes advantage of your shock, and rolls you over so that you’re in the mud and he’s on top of you, “But you shouldn’t trust me.”

“DALLY!” You squeal as the mud surrounds you. You reach to the side and grab a handful of it, quickly splashing it up into Dallas’ face.

“You little bitch,” He growls playfully, before smearing some on you.

“You think you’re real strong huh Dal?”

“I know I am doll,” He smirks as you struggle under his grasp.

“Asshole,” You say as Dally leans in, before you know what’s happening, Dally’s lips are a meer inch away from yours. It’s finally happening, I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. Your happiness is short lived as Sylvia coughs; you’d forgotten about her.

“I’d hate to interrupt, but this is disgusting and I’m leaving Dallas, if you want to you can join me,” She says, before tiptoeing away.

Dallas grunts and pushes himself off you before helping you up, “Let’s go Y/N.”

“Dal, go after Sylvia she’s your girl, besides my house is close by, I’ll get there,” You say, looking down. You’ve liked Dally for years, you’re one of the few people who, unlike his girlfriend, can actually see the good in him, he’s not just a sex tool for you, but of course, you’ve never had to guts to tell him.

“Fuck it, I’m gonna drop you off first, she always does this,” He says rolling his eyes.

The two of you continue to walk in silence, the only sound that can be heard is the sound of your shivering and a few sneezes here and there. You hear a rustling next to you and suddenly Dallas wraps his jacket around you, you look at him and raise an eyebrow, “Look at you being a gentleman.”

“Do you want the fucking jacket or not,” You stick out your tongue and the two of you continue walking, trying to break the silence from time to time. You finally get home only to realize that you are missing your keys, you mentally curse at yourself, and spend the night at your neighbours’ house, the Curtis brothers.

“Alright Y/N, I’m gonna go now, g’night doll,” He leans in once again, before he realizes what he’s doing, he saves himself by just going for an awkward hug. You hold on for just a moment too long, taking in Dally’s scent. He eventually pulls away, and walks off, leaving you in the Curtis’ yard.

You walk in and see the brothers along with Johnny and Two-Bit sitting in the living room, “Mind if I crash here boys?”

They all look at you as if you’re crazy, you look down and realize that you’re soaking wet, covered in mud, and wearing Dally’s jacket, “Oh this? Let’s just say there was a mishap on my way home.”

“Is that Dal’s jacket?” Two-Bit questions.

“Yeah,” You say nonchalantly.

“Dally never gives anyone his jacket,” Johnny says, smiling a little, this kid has always been trying to set the two of you up.

“So?” You say before walking into the bathroom, you shut the door and finally let your smile break out, as you cuddle yourself in Dally’s jacket. Maybe he does care about me!

A/N: *Please read* Finally another post!! K I know the reader asked for a fluffy Dally imagine so I tried to make it as fluffy as possible while staying true to Dally’s character, I obviously didn’t want to make him seem soft or anything. Also DISCLAIMER, I never really liked Sylvia’s character so I made her sound like a little bitch, but if you guys actually liked her, don’t hate, just change up her name for the sake of this imagine and pretend it’s about a different girl. ILSYM and I hope you liked it!

Masterlist // Rules List // To-Do List

Days Of Summer

A/N; HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE SHITPOST

jk, but it is on the lighter side! The ever loved rock camp au, insipred by the masterpiece that was Camp Rock. Idk if you have me to blame or @hannah-nobody, but you are all welcome either way. 

This here is the collab her and I have been talking about for forever, and now we’re posting it in an attempt to make ourselves actually fucking finish it, but there is no motivator like disappointment.

Have Hannah’s made up reviews!

  • a beautiful coming of age story - ny times 
  • one giant shit post - person

Quick notes - Every chapter will have a set of songs to go along with it, all being added to this spotify playlist with each chapter! All genres are used, and we hope it will be as cringey as possible!

Summer has arrived, and with it the start of the two month long music camp; Fairy Tail! Full of new songs, friends, and adventures, the campers learn things they never knew about themselves and one another. And just how easy it is to sneak booze and a full sized karaoke machine out into the middle of the woods.

Camp Rock!AU

Pairing: Nalu, Gajevy, Gruiva, others mentioned; Fairy Tail

Words: 5631

Rating: T

Parts: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter ThreeChapter Four


Chapter One: The Start of Something New

Now who’d have ever thought that

we’d both be here tonight?

Oh yeah

And the world looks so much brighter

with you by my side

The music pounded through Natsu’s veins as the last notes of the song faded away and the crowd erupted into a series of screams. The band members on stage smiled as they tossed various mementos to their mud-splattered fans; picks, drumsticks, water bottles. Hands groped desperately at the air, his own among them.

He wasn’t really paying attention. His own voice joined in with the noise as he let go of all the energy the atmosphere of the festival has stirred within him. His head tipped back and he squeezed his eyes shut as he cheered.

When the band finally left the stage, Natsu looked around. He stood on his tip toes, trying to find Gajeel’s unruly mane of black hair in the sea of sweat-soaked festival-goers. When Natsu couldn’t spot him, he decided to head back to the tent.

Still on high from the previous band’s performance, Natsu made his way almost absently through the crowd. Most people lingered, waiting eagerly for the next act to come on, leading him to gently push a few people out of his way. Some people decided to sit during the break, not caring about the mud beneath them. Others remained on the shoulders of their friends, basking in the heat of the sun that had come and gone for most of the weekend.

One of the shoulder-riding music lovers caught his attention.

She was perched on someone a few people in front of him, and she was stunning. He altered his route in order to take in more of her. She was screaming as though the band were still on stage, making rock signs with her fists as she waved her arms in the air. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, but strands fell loosely on her sunburned shoulders.  A pink crop-top exposed her stomach, where someone had painted a peace sign in neon green paint around her belly button.

He grinned as she wobbled on a dark-haired boys shoulders, but the blonde’s own expression turned from laughter to panic as she lost her balance.

Instinctively, Natsu pushed through the crowd and got to her just in time to soften her fall with his own body. The two of them fell to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

“Oooooowwww,” The blonde groaned from on top of him.

She raised her head, and a splotch of mud had somehow made its way onto her cheek. Natsu stared at her in bewilderment as she looked at him, eyes wide, then giggled.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he became aware of her body pressed against his. He’d thrown his tattered shirt away long ago, and surprisingly he didn’t feel self-conscious going shirtless among the energetic crowd. Especially not now that the pretty blondes’ hands roamed over his bare chest. Natsu quickly sat up before he became too absorbed with her wandering hands, tightening the scarf around his neck before helping her up and sheepishly apologising.

“No, no, no,” She smiled at him, “Don’t be sorry! It was Gray’s fault. He’s so meeeean.“

The girl pouted and Natsu felt a smirk pulling at his lips. He had no idea who Gray was, but he was very glad that they’d chosen to shrug her off their shoulders, for whatever reason.

Seeing his smirk, the girl’s laughter died off and she bit her lip in thought. She stepped closer, invading his personal space. His breath hitched when she placed a hand back on his chest.

“Thanks,” She told him, her voice low, before leaning up on her tip-toes and placing a light kiss on his cheek.

Her lips were sticky with pink lip gloss, and he found himself wondering what they tasted like when she drew back.

Her hand remained on his chest.

“Y’know, you’re pretty cute,“ She mused aloud.

“Erm…” He had no idea what to reply. He’d never been called cute before.

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Do You Think I'm Ok?

Originally posted by daddyvibe

Request: Yo, how’s it going?? I read you wanted requests and I got oone✌🏻!! :D could you do like a teamiplier x fem!reader thing, where the reader comes back from vacay and their car breaks down half way home, nobody’s picking up their phones (+she has no cash) and it’s raining like crazy? Reader is pissed, gets home and everyone is scared/confused as why Reader is completely soaked but then smbdy makes a sassy remark and they all laugh? This is so specific Aah sorry Love your fics ❤️

Summary: Fem!Reader gets stranded because her car just craps out on her so she walks home in the rain and fights the whole squad.

A/N: Hello!  Wrote this at like 3am last night and I feel ok with it. As always anything italicized is the inner thought of reader or any other character (except for the part about the voicemails obviously)! Not much to say about this one except it was so difficult to find a gif of the entire team. This is the best I could find and Kathryn is barely visible :( Seriously though why is the teamiplier tag so empty when it comes to gifs? Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Wordcount:1232, not too long I guess

Request some more! I don’t have class unil later tonight so I have plenty of free time and hope to post a couple more times today! Then after today spraaang breeeak sah dude keep me busy over break pls

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anonymous asked:

what are Noodle, Murdoc, and Russel's reactions to 2D putting out Sleeping Powder without telling anyone? Do they like it? What do they think of the message and the lyrics? What do they think of 2D's dancing?

(Me getting some frustrations out as well! Sorry I didn’t add the lyrics part)

“What the hell is this?!” Murdoc yelled as he barged in through the door to 2D’s room, holding his smartphone in his hand, long nails almost digging into the screen. Behind him, Noodle and Russel were trying to grab at him and stop him.

2D’s eyes widened and he found himself taking several steps backwards until he was hitting the wall, “It’s just a little somefink I mixed together the other day.”

“And you went behind my back with this?” Murdoc continued and Noodle eventually got a hold of his arm, making him screech, “Noodle, get your hands off of me! I have to take care of this!”

“Nah, you do not,” Russel protested, “It’s a good song, D.”

“T-thanks, Russel,” 2D stammered and Murdoc furiously started flapping his arms, phone almost ending on the floor, as Noodle pulled at him.

“Control yourself, Niccals,” Russel said quietly as he helped Noodle with holding him back.

“Yeah, I did the same thing when I was like 15,” Noodle added, letting Russel do the work. She let go, crossing her arms over her chest, “And that was a freaking success. It has 66 million views on YouTube.”

“Mine has four million,” 2D dared to utter, looking from face to face. He gulped as Murdoc practically growled, looking away from him, “And that’s in just four days.”

“You’re getting slow,” Noodle snickered, “You only found out about it today? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Murdoc eventually gave up and wrestled free from Russel’s grip. He locked the phone, looking back at 2D, “At least tell me why… and how the hell did you keep this a secret from us?”

“I-I wrote it the other day, filmed it two days after and then put it up,” 2D explained, finally feeling like he could breathe. He gave a tiny smile, “People think there’s not enough of me on the album so I thought I’d give them a treat.”

“Oh, fuck them!” Murdoc hissed, having the urge to throw the phone, “Do they not get it? Do they understand nothing about what we are about?”

“Muds,” Noodle tried, “Calm down.”

“No, I mean it!” Murdoc growled, steering towards the door, “We’ve made collabs since we started and now it is not good enough?”

2D frowned, looking away from them all but Russel and Noodle both came up to him. They rubbed his back, watching Murdoc storm out the door.

“He is right,” Russel said, “But that song is some masterpiece.”

Noodle nodded, “Are you really sitting on a cock in the end?”

“Sure am,” 2D laughed quietly, “Did you like my dancing?”

“D, you’re the reason people say that white people can’t dance,” Russel mumbled and Noodle snorted, holding a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, shut it,” 2D pouted.

Noodle laughed harder, hiding her face, “No, but Stu, you honestly look like a white dad at a barbecue.”

“Oi!” 2D exclaimed and now it was Russel’s turn to laugh.

i’m sorry, did you hope i was done with these? ha, no@onceapoet asked for some more krypto headcannons, so part . . i don’t even know anymore

there are two different ways it can go when they take krypto out while it’s raining

  • sometimes it is met with Refusal
  • krypto is a proud, proud dog. how dare kara try to take him out, there’s mud
    • so he does what any dog would do. he plops right down in front of the door when kara tries to urge him out
      • it’s ridiculous. kara shoving against him and just getting an inch further every time. sometimes krypto will move at the last minute and kara will go through the door
        • the first time lena came home and the door was destroyed. she just crouched down and peered through the hole to see kara sprawled out in defeat while krypto sat happily on the couch
          • she doesn’t question it anymore, just orders another one 

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Be Mine? (Carry On Valentine’s Celebration Day 5)

It’s still Valentine’s Day where I’m writing from. This is a sixth year fic. Happy Valentine’s Day Snowbaz! <3 @carryon-valentines

Simon

Simon glared at Baz as they walked towards Watford. Baz told him earlier to meet him in the wavering wood to help inspect what Baz had claimed was a small dead spot. Simon had known it was a trick but had met Baz anyways, intending to get Baz to talk about why he wanted Simon off campus in the first place. Instead, however, a pack of goblins had caught up with them and they had both been forced to fight them off. On Valentine’s Day of all days.
It was dark now and Simon knew there would be hell to pay for having skipped out on all his friends’ celebration plans. As they got to the drawbridge Simon realized they had not gotten back on time, the bridge already drawn up.
“Well, this is fantastic,” Simon said.
Already exhausted, Simon threw off his jacket and spelled it into a blanket for him to sit on. Baz hadn’t really spoken since the goblin attack and wouldn’t look at him.
“I suggest you figure out how to spell your jacket into a tent or something, we’re going to be here for a while,” Simon said.
Baz, with a quick sneer thrown Simon’s way, complied and spelled a small tent for them both. They settled inside of it, anger tangible in the air.
“I didn’t plan for the goblins,” Baz muttered.
“I did plan to spend the day with Penny and Agatha so I don’t really want to hear it.”
Baz wiped a hand across his face, removing some of the grime there, and sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just meant to keep Wellbelove waiting for you. But it wasn’t supposed to be an all night thing.”
Simon raised an eyebrow.
“Are you actually apologizing to me?”
“Yes,” Baz replied, his tone dangerous.
“Well,” Simon felt startled, “Thank you.”
They were quiet for a few minutes.
“Why were you trying to keep me away from Agatha?”
Baz gave him an unreadable side-glance.
“Some of us don’t enjoy watching perfect couples prance around on Valentine’s Day. I thought it would be fun to make her sweat it out a bit.”
Simon sighed, realizing Baz was a bit out of the loop.
“I don’t think you realize this but…Agatha and I broke up.”
Baz’s eyes widened.
“Why?”
Simon shrugged.
“We just weren’t meant to be.”
Baz rolled his eyes.
“Not according to everyone else at this school.”
Simon lay back in the tent.
“Well they don’t see the private stuff. Trust me, it didn’t work out.”
Baz stayed silent.
“What about you?” Simon asked.
“Hm?”
“Do you have a special Valentine this year?”
Baz laughed bitterly.
“No. I’ve never had one actually.”
Simon studied Baz’s face.
“Nobody has ever asked you to be their Valentine?”
Baz slicked back his sweat stained hair.
“Nope.”

Baz

It felt strange to be talking to Snow as if they were friends. The usual animosity was nowhere to be found inside the tent. Stranger, was the fact that Baz was telling Snow something that he hadn’t told anyone before.
“But haven’t you ever liked someone?” Snow asked.
He studied Snow. He was a total mess, blood and mud splattered on his uniform and his hair stuck up in a million directions. His blue eyes had dark circles under them, a sign of the sleeplessness that Baz already knew about. And the smattering of freckles on his face, lighter than the moles, somehow stood out against all the dirt from their excursion earlier.
“Yes.”
His response came out a bit breathlessly.
Snow’s eyes flickered across his face.
“Oh. Then why…?”
Baz looked away, trying to break the tension building inside him.
“Because they don’t like me back.”
He heard Snow sigh.
“That must be hard.”
Baz shrugged.
“It’s not that big of a deal. Valentine’s Day is sort of hyped up. More about buying stuff than anything else.”
Snow didn’t respond. Baz heard some kind of crinkling noise and then felt a tap on his shoulder. Bewildered, he turned and found Snow holding some kind of candy in his outstretched hand.
“Here,” Snow said.
Baz took the candy bar from him. It was a mint chocolate Aero bar. They both loved them, it was one of the few things they had in common. The packaging was slightly wrinkled and it felt as if the candy inside had broken into multiple pieces.
“What’s this for?”
Snow was blushing.
“Now you can say you’ve had a Valentine.”
Baz felt his own cheeks warm.
“You’re saying…that you…”
“I’m your valentine this year,” Snow murmured.
They stared at each other for a minute, the atmosphere in the small tent changing. It felt as if Baz had to kiss Snow in that moment and that Snow might actually let him.
“We should get some sleep,” Snow murmured.
“Sure,” Baz said.
They settled under the blanket and looked at each other, a million questions swirling unanswered between them.
“Snow?”
“Yes?”
Baz smiled.
“Thank you.”
Snow smiled back, his eyes already closing.
“You’re welcome Baz. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

it’s funny, there are a lot of older regular customers that come into work, and when I got my tattoo I wondered how they’d all react to it. I figured it would mostly be polite observation or snide comments. What I didn’t expect was for the most common reaction to be bad jokes.

My tattoo is three cat paw prints on my arm, in case you don’t know:

“A cat walked all over you, did it?”

“Is that to show that you’re poor? You know, pawr?”

“Oh dear, looks like your cat got in the mud.”

“Where is it going?”

Eyes of Fire

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Request: Jealous lucifer x reader please! Maybe where reader helps another Angel groom their wings and doesn’t understand how intimate it is or why cas is so jealous. Thanks 😊 xox Hey sorry! I meant jealous lucifer because the reader is helping Cas. Thanks 😊

Warnings: Jealous!Lucifer, a little fluff.

Word Count: 524

A/N: I don’t feel like I did this justice. But I have it my best shot. I hope you enjoy it and feedback is always welcome.

Originally posted by lucifersagents

“Will you stop fidgeting Cas?” You grabbed the fidgeting angels shoulders. “How did you even manage to get your wings this dirty?” You asked as you appraised his wings

“I was on a hunt with Sam and Dean and we were hunti-“

“Ok stop right there.” You laughed. “Can I get the short non-Cas version of this story?”

“Oh, I was thrown into some mud.”

You doubled over in laughter. “Oh Cas.”

Cas turned and looked at you. “I don’t understand. What is so funny?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“You Cas. You’re so adorkable.” You took the wet cloth out of his hand. He still looked confused but he turned back around and gave you access to his wings.

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