or whatever they were filming today

Impulse (part 1)

There will be a smutty part two. Tomorrow. I just wanted to get this one out today. Ignore the typos and all that, I didn’t really have time to edit. Also, this was born last night during a sleep induced and frustrated conversation with @permanentcross. Hope you enjoy xx


“So… what d'yeh wanna watch?!” Harry asks you, eyebrow popping up as he poses the question.

You’re both at his place, sprawled out on the big couch while facing the TV, the coffee table filled with sweets and popcorn while the both of you flicked through Netflix searching for something worth watching. 

“Whatever you want…” You mumble, distracted. There was too much in your head that prevented you from caring about the film you were supposed to be watching.

Harry had a bit of downtime between one work commitment and the other and, while he was still in London, he’d wanted to spend time with you. It was a harmless, intention lacking evening - two friends getting together for a pint and a movie. At least that’s what it was supposed to be.

What started as an innocent get together quickly turned into a torturous evening for you, filled with tension and lack of control. 

It started long ago, these feelings. Warm and cozy, swirling in your belly before going up your chest and squeezing your heart with fondness that turned into want very quickly. You had been successfully fighting it for months, putting up some distance between the both of you and taking advantage of the fact that Harry was busy - sometimes so busy he could only send you a quick “How was your day? xx” text and that was it, for at least a while, before he had time to talk again.

It worked perfectly for you. What the eyes can’t see, the heart can’t feel it, right?! But that was not how it worked.

The minute he’d texted you saying he wanted to catch up, everything you had been pressing down and hiding knocked you out like lightening. It was a mixture of pent up emotion that had you breathless and shaking - tummy filled with uncontrollable butterflies, a yearning in your chest so strong it was painful, your nerves too heightened to ignore. But you had no escape, you had agreed to see him and he was expecting you - three whole days of expectation, excitement and nerves that had you shaking to your bone while you drove to his place. 

Once he’d opened the door and wrapped you up in a tight embrace, it felt like every knot in your body snapped, emotion flooding into you like tsunami tides that forced you to hold on to him for dear life. You both stood in his foyer, arms wound tight around each other, your ear pressed to his chest where his heart was beating B steadily, his scent swarming your senses while the soft fabric of his sweater rubbed against your cheek and you felt safe. You felt safe and home. 

“Missed you, pet.” Harry mumbled, temple pressed against yours. You could hear his voice rumbling through his chest, vibrating against your cheek and you sigh, feeling your chest swelling with fondness as you untangle your arms from around him and look up to his face, a shy smile playing on your lips. “Don’t go MIA on me like that!”

“Says the one who sends a text every three months.” You gripe and he laughs, just because he knows you’re right, his green eyes alight as he looks at you. “Missed you too.”

From that moment on, you were screwed. You try and keep to yourself, sitting on the corner of the couch and observing him go back and forth around the living room, offering you various things to eat while he told you about everything he’d been doing for the past few months. 

He looks different - better, if possible. You can see his shoulders are wider, arms stronger under the big amount of fabric of his sweater, lose around his sides and covering his hands, giving him sweater paws and softening his appearance, even though he looks more like a man now than ever before, no traces of the soft boy he once was. His hair is covered by a Green Bay Packers beanie, contrasting against his all black outfit and he looks sleepy, telling you that he was probably having a nap before you ringed the bell. 

“That’s enough ‘bout me.” He sighs, finally plopping down beside you, much closer than you’d like him to. His legs are spread open, tattooed hand gripping your thigh as he rests back against the couch and smiles at you. “How have you been, love?”

“I’ve been good.” You shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your life but still, been having a nice time.” You smile at him, head resting on your hand as you turn to look at him.

He looks breathtakingly good, his legs spread, looking so nice and strong it was almost an invitation for you to settle yourself on his lap. His lips, pink and full, are slick and glistening with spit from how many times he had ran his tongue over them while he talked to you and he has his bottom one pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he listens patiently while you speak.

Your eyes, as much as you tried to control them, couldn’t look away from him and you can feel your chest tightening and your hands and lips tingling with want. So much time apart, so many repressed and shoved down feelings that were now making themselves known again and it was like a flood – unbound and uncontrolled, running over barriers and defenses you had put up and destroying them just as if they were a toothpick - effortlessly. There was no wall hiding them from your eyes and your heart, your feelings were right there, in broad daylight for you to see, staring you in the face and telling you that no, you weren’t escaping this time.

Harry’s hand, the one that gripped your thigh, is warm but it feels like a burning fire on your skin, even through your clothes and you could swear that if he kept it there a second longer, you’d both see smoke coming out of it. You’re overheating with his closeness, sparks igniting your bones and making your blood rush through your veins so fast it makes you dizzy. His eyes, eyes you love so much, are looking at you like you are his whole world and you don’t know if it was because you missed him or because you wanted it so badly, for so long, but before you could stop yourself, you are lunging forward, one leg straddling his thigh, leaning in eagerly, hands firmly pressed against his cheeks, your lips molding to his as you shut your eyes tightly and melt into a kiss. 

Your tongue runs over his bottom lip before your thumb presses to his chin as you beg, with a desperate and whiny sound, for him to open up to you and you didn’t know what possessed him to allow this, but he does, lips parting and welcoming your greedy tongue into his mouth. You can taste the beer he’d been drinking on his tongue and it makes you sigh, because right under it is the taste of him, the one you’ve always wanted to know and it makes you shake with a burning, overwhelming desire. You had wondered, for so long, how it would be… how he would feel, how he would taste and now you knew.

The swirls of pleasure fluttering inside of you settle into a tight pressure low on your tummy, a knot wound so tight it makes you ache for him. You suckle on his bottom lip as you hold him still, as still as a rock. He’s not even touching you but when you bite on his bottom lip, his chest expands as he takes a sharp breath and his hands reach for your arms as his neck stretches up to reach for you - to get closer, to kiss deeper. 

It’s then, when he moans your name and pulls you closer, that it dawns on you – you are kissing him. Harry. You’re not supposed to kiss him. You pull away with a gasp, nail scraping the skin of his neck, lips making a filthy sound as you push away from him, your eyes wide and your hands shaking.

“I’m-“ You start, breathless, fingers reaching for your lips as you feel the tingling still there, the knot still pressing on your tummy, the shivers still running down your spine.

Harry is on the couch, hands dropped to his sides, red bitten lips parted in shock and a frown on his forehead as his green eyes lock with yours.

“I’m sorry.” You breath out, hand pressing to your forehead as you feel your eyes swell with tears. What have you done? “I fucked up, I’m- I’m s-so sorry.”

“Love, don’t-“ He starts but it’s too late for a reaction. You’re already out the door.


“Hi, I can’t answer you right now, please leave a message.”

He already knows the words by heart now, engraved in his brain because of the amount of times he had to listen to them over the past few weeks.

How long had it been now? A week? Two? Maybe a month, Harry doesn’t know. All he knows is that you don’t answer it. And you if he were to make a bet, he’d say you won’t answer him any time soon. At least not now - probably not ever, if he knows you well enough.

The kiss, that desperate, erratic, lust filled kiss had been playing over and over again in his head, just as much as the message on your voicemail. He already went over it a thousand times, looking for that one thing – the thing that made you run away from him and disappear as if you’ve never existed in the first place.

He’d tried to get in touch with you in every way he knew how – calls, voicemail, texts that went unread, Twitter, Facebook, the lot. Every time, he came up emptyhanded and it was like a shock to his system.

He has questions, questions only you can answer and they are driving him mad, haunting his dreams every time his head hits the pillow. Where are you? Why won’t you answer him? Why did you run? What was that kiss… what did it mean?

“What have I done?” Is the question he asks you the most, with no answer. Ever.

Confused is the perfect word to describe him. Confused… and hurt. Not even after your worst fights, which weren’t many but that happened anyway, had you ever shut him out like this. It’s a constant silence, a never ending stream of unanswered pleads that lead him nowhere and it’s driving him mental.

It’s like the clock beside his bed is mocking him - 11:59 to 00:00. Another day you didn’t talk to him, another day he lost a little more of you. Another rejection. Another 24 hours of complete and utter silence, the only change being the digits beside your phone number, that kept going higher and higher. What was it now? A hundred? He didn’t know. But he was done with it.

Mellifluous Tunes

Summary: Phil lives on his own in a quaint little apartment right near the heart of London. It was quiet, peaceful and calm. That is, until his new neighbor Dan moves in and decides to make himself known by playing music so loud, the entire building can hear it. Phil finally had enough and goes over to complain but it results in an unlikely friendship.

Word Count: 1866

Warnings:  A swear once but that’s about it.

Tags: youtuber!Phil, nonyoutuber!Dan

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The Boyfriend Tag - Jonnor Fanfic

[Connor is a popular YouTuber, and finally decides to give in to popular demand, and film “The Boyfriend Tag” with his boyfriend, Jude.]

Connor knew, inviting Jude over to film with him always lead to distractions, and threw him off schedule. It took twice as long to set up all his equipment, and get ready to film, and took twice as long to actually get through whatever video they were doing. And not to mention the hours of editing that would follow, before he could upload.

But none of it mattered.

Connor absolutely loved any chance he got to record a video with his boyfriend, and the feedback he got was always encouraging. His nearly-one-million subscribers adored Jude, almost as much as Connor did. He didn’t know exactly what took so long, but today he was finally giving in to popular demand, and he was going to do the boyfriend tag with Jude.

So nearly an hour after Jude got to his apartment, after all the distractions and countless stolen kisses, Connor had everything set up in his usual location in his bedroom.

He sat down on his bed, used the remote that came with the camera, and turned it on. “Hey, what’s up guys, it’s Connor! As you can probably tell by the title of this video,” Connor pointed upwards to where the title would later be displayed. “I’m finally getting to the long awaited, highly requested, boyfriend tag!”

Jude jumped into frame and sat on Connor’s lap, practically knocking him over. “Hi!”

Connor threw his arms around Jude, clasping his hands over his stomach, and spoke over Jude’s shoulder. “So if you’ve been watching this channel for a while, you’ll know, this is my wonderful and amazing boyfriend, Jude.”

Jude moved off of Connor’s lap to sit properly beside him, and Connor kept his arm around his waist. With his free hand, he reached over and grabbed his phone, waving it in the air. “I’ve got all the questions on my phone, so I’m gonna just read them off, and we’ll both answer.”

“Aren’t I supposed to answer?” Jude asked, mostly just to throw Connor off.

“Well, if you had a channel, we’d split the videos, but we’re just doing it on my channel,” Connor explained.

“Oh, okay.”

“Question one: Where did we meet?”

Jude answered, “I’m pretty sure we’ve mentioned this in previous videos, but we met in seventh grade math class. I was the new kid, and Connor was the first one to make me feel welcome.” He added a cheesy tone to his voice for emphasis.

“Oh, and I know Jude seems super outgoing in my videos, but he was like, the shyest kid ever,” Connor continued.

“It’s true,” Jude agreed.

“Question two: Where was our first date?”

“Wait, does that include the double date with…?” Jude trailed off.

“Umm, nah, we won’t count that. The beach date was our first actual date.”

Jude giggled, “yeah, that was a disaster.” He perked back up and looked at the camera again. “Our first date was at the beach, and we lived in San Diego, where it rarely rains, but of course, it decided to start pouring. We got caught in a full-on storm.”

“It was fun though. Aside from everything getting soaking wet,” Connor laughed. “Oh, and it wasn’t like back then, dates were very serious, I mean we were like… What, thirteen?”

“Yeah, thirteen,” Jude confirmed.

“Question three: What was your first impression of me?”

“Obviously, I thought Connor was rude, repulsive, and someone I’d never be friends with,” Jude said sarcastically with a playful eye roll.

“See what I put up with?” Connor joked.

Jude laughed, “I thought you were the nicest person I ever met, and I knew we’d be friends for a long time. What was your first impression?”

“Ooh.. You were so quiet and shy, but I thought your smile was the best thing I’d ever seen. I also thought you skipped a grade because of how much younger you looked,” he teased.

Jude turned to the camera and said, “Connor only became my friend because he thought I was some super smart kid.”

“Not true!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding, next question,” Jude prompted.

“When did you meet the family?”

“I don’t remember, but it wasn’t like a big deal or anything. I remember coming over for dinner, and it was probably shortly after we became friends.”

“Yeah, and I’m practically an extra member of Jude’s family. I met them when I came over for a project,” Connor said.

“Ah, you already knew Lena,” Jude reminded. “My mom was the principal at our school,” he told the viewers.

“Next question!” Connor exclaimed, louder than necessary, making Jude flinch and shush him. Connor broke into a contagious fit of laughter, that got to Jude as well, and set them back by a few minutes while they tried to compose themselves. Connor knew that once that happened, it was always hard to get back on track, since everything after a laughing fit seemed funnier than it actually was.

Red-faced and out of breath, Connor continued. “Okay, next question: do I have any weird obsessions? If so - what?”

Jude broke into laughter again, and laid back on Connor’s bed. “Jude -,” but Connor continued laughing as well, not even entirely sure why.

“YouTube!” Jude shouted.


“You’re obsessed with YouTube,” Jude said through hysterics.

Connor cursed them both for how much editing he would have to do by the time they finished the video. He managed to compose himself enough and pulled Jude upright. “You good?” He asked.

“Yes,” Jude giggled still, but bit his tongue to avoid another laugh attack.

“Okay, do I have any weird obsessions? If so - what?”

“Honestly, I don’t think so, really. I can’t think of anything.”

“Me neither,” Connor admitted. “Oh! Star Wars.”

“No, not that much,” Jude denied.

Connor narrowed his eyes at him and stared at him incredulously. “Okay…”

“Next question?”

“How long have we been dating?”

“Since the end of seventh grade, so… Six years.”

“I’ve put up with this kid for six years,” Connor teased.

“Torturous, really.”

“But I love you,” he chimed.

“Who wouldn’t?” Jude smirked.

“Question something - I lost count: do we have any traditions?”

“We’re so not the traditional type,” Jude confessed.

“True. Okay, our first road trip?”

“Have we even been on a road trip?”

“Have we?” Connor repeated. “I don’t think we’ve ever been on an official road trip.”

“We should.”

“Guys, comment below where we should go on a road trip,” Connor pointed downward, Jude mimicked him. “Question nine, I think? What did you first notice about me?”

“Um, it’s a toss up between your eyes or your hair.”

Connor pondered for a moment, “I think I first noticed your height, but can I mention the nail polish? I know it wasn’t the first thing I noticed since that started after, but I loved it.”

“Yeah you can count that.”

Connor held Jude’s hand up to look at his bare nails, which were kept short, but filed evenly. “You should start wearing it again. I miss it.”

“We’ll see.”

He changed his grip and intertwined their fingers together instead. “What do we argue about the most?”

“Um, probably TV shows. Whether it’s what to watch, or arguing about the characters, or plot lines.”

“Oh god, that’s true. Other than that, we don’t really argue that much, really.”

“At least not seriously,” Jude added.

“Question eleven: who wears the pants in the relationship?” He laughed as he read it, then braced himself for Jude’s response when he saw a look of mischief grow upon his boyfriend’s face.

“Well… Preferably no one, but -”

Connor clapped a hand over Jude’s mouth and laughed even more. “Jude!”

Jude squirmed away from him, returning to his earlier fit of laughter. “Sorry, I had to!”

Connor made a mental note to edit that out.

Once they calmed down again, Connor repeated the question. “Who wears the pants in the relationship?” Then answered before Jude. “I’d say Jude, most of the time, but it depends on the situation. Next: What is one food I don’t like?”

“Oh, I don’t know… You’re not very picky. Brussel sprouts?”

“Nobody likes Brussel sprouts, Jude…”

Jude shrugged, “I don’t mind them,”

“You’re weird. What drink do I usually order if we go out to eat? Yours is lemonade, I know that.”

“Yeah, and yours is sprite or water,” Jude replied.

“Yep. What is one talent I have?”

“Just one?” Jude asked. Connor nodded. “Um, whatever I’ll just list off some. Drawing, YouTube, and sports.”

“Thanks, babe. Your talent is writing, for sure.”

Jude leaned against him and kissed his cheek. Connor copied him, and then continued the questions. “What’s one food I would eat everyday if I could?”

“Easy. French fries!”

“Of course, and yours would be pancakes, drowning in syrup,” Connor said. “Oh, what’s my favourite cereal?”

“You don’t like cereal as much, but Fruit-Loops,” Jude answered eagerly.

“Yeah, and you’re in love with cereal. Lucky charms, and Cheerios.”

“Yep!” Jude grinned.

“Dork,” Connor said, tightening his grip around Jude. “I know you’re not a sports fan, but what’s my favorite -”

“Baseball?” Jude guessed.

“Favorite sports team,” Connor finished.

“Oh, Padres?”

“Yeah.” Connor closed his eyes as he asked, “what’s my eye color?”

“Oh my god, duh… I’ve only known you for eight years, Con.” And spent most of his time staring into them. “Hazel-green, sometimes darker brown, depending on lighting or your mood.”

“And yours are chocolate brown, sometimes onyx.” Connor opened his eyes and looked into Jude’s, almost as if he was wanting to be sure. One thing he loved about filming these sit-down video’s with Jude, was the way his eyes looked with the circle light reflecting, illuminating his irises. It also made the editing process more enjoyable, but that was just a bonus.

“Who is my best friend?”

“Me,” Jude raised his hand in the air.

“True. And I’m yours. What is something you do that I wish you didn’t?”

“What?” Jude thought of the way it was phrased until he got it. “Oh, you hate when I grind my teeth in my sleep.”

“Yep. And you hate when I try to vlog when you don’t want to be on camera,” Connor said. “Last question: What can I spend hours doing?”

“Well, YouTube, sports, spending time with me, stalking social media accounts, or drawing,” Jude listed off.

“All very true. Okay, so that’s all for the questions, please make sure to give this video a thumbs up if you enjoyed it, or if you’d like to see more video’s with Jude. Please subscribe, if you’re not already, and comment road trip ideas! All my social media links are in the description below.”

“Bye!” Jude waved.

“Stay tuned for our next video, where we do the smoothie challenge!” Connor exclaimed. He could see Jude’s eyes go wide in the view-finder.

“Wait, what?”


Minho running the maze with Thomas those first few times. Getting lost in his head, following his mental map of today’s pattern. Looking for changes, focusing on which turns to take. On the steady push of his legs. Watching his breathing, his speed. Senses alert in a way they only were when running the maze.

Hearing the footfalls of his companion not quite matching his own, noticing him falling behind and shouting over his shoulder.

“Come on, Ben! Keep up!”

Then being so shocked at himself his legs just stop. Minho feels like a bucket of ice cold water got dropped on him, and he stands frozen there for a few seconds. Breathing heavily, staring ahead.

Until he feels Thomas’ hand on his shoulder “Minho? You okay?”

Minho snaps himself out of it and brushes Thomas’ hand off. “M’ fine” he says, and starts jogging before Thomas has the chance to say anything else.

“Let’s go, Greenie!” he calls back. “We’re wasting daylight.”

He felt the weight of his slip for the rest of the run. But it’s alright. It was always hard to remember at the beginning. That Ben was now just another name he had to forget.

But it’s alright.

It’s how it worked in the Glade, they didn’t mourn the dead. He’d have to be more careful, that’s all. So, it’s alright.

He’s forgotten plenty of other names before.

Sweet as Sugar

@spnwritingchallenge | @thxwinchestxrs vs @fallen-angel-meg

prompt: romantic comedy

pairings: Dean x Reader

word count: 889

tags: dean x reader fluff

tagging: @spnfanficpond

Muchos love to @fvckinpayno for the beta help ♥️

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The OQ scene [spoilers]

Okay so what happened today was not exactly what looked to be a date… Regina was in her normal purple dress, nothing fancy and Robin Hood only has one outfit sooooo… Haha. I couldn’t hear a thing and couldn’t see much but what I did see was it looked like Regina said something and he got upset/stressed by whatever she said. Yes they were at a restaurant but Regina and robin were sitting at the bar part so not a cute romantic table :( oh and this happened in New York so this is either a flashback or a scene for an earlier ep that they just hadn’t gotten around to filming yet. That’s all I think! Better explanation will be in my vlog and all that happened with the Agnes and Lana scene will be in vlog too. Short description of what happened: they’re on a bus stop, stalk for awhile, Regina poofs away in magic smokeness. Okee, I’m super tired so I’m going to bed! Goodnight!!! (x)


Stress relief

(I get the cutest damn promts i s2g. Anyways the prompt was: Max noodling on guitar in her dorm room when Chloe sneaks into the girls dorms, and upon hearing Max, just sits outside her room for who knows how long (?) just listening. This got a little longer than I wanted but fuck it I’m proud of this one! Also I spent a good twenty minutes laughing about noodling. Thanks to kaladinstormcursed for the prompt! Enjoy the pricefield!)

When Max was stressed she inevitably did one of two things, she’d grab her camera, several packages of instant film and go out and take photos. She wouldn’t over think if they looked good and she wouldn’t worry about showing them to anyone. These were just for her.

Or on days like today where going out to shoot photos wasn’t an option for whatever reason, she would pick up her guitar and start to play. Some days she would try and learn a new song, but on really bad days like today, she would just fiddle around. Not really playing anything, simply playing bits and pieces of any and every song she liked and knew how to play. It was cathartic in a way photography never was. Playing the guitar was so effortless, it required a little more concentration and attention sure, but mistakes were easier to correct and far less permanent.

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