#(said in the john mulaney voice) I didn't know I knew how to do that

[stuckwith-harry]

i am handing in my b.a. thesis (on motherhood in gothic fiction) in a few short days and though i have been complaining about having to write it for six months straight, right now i am actually feeling bereft of future opportunities to write academic papers about my silly little interests. for instance right now i really want to research & write about dracula daily & genre & the impacts of the newsletter format on the narrative (the addition of a timeloop)

i think about format and the specifics of narration a lot when i'm writing my own little things and i loooove when the narration - not just the narrator, but the act of telling the story - is part of the narrative. love when the narration is diegetic! love an epistolary novel (like dracula!) for this reason. should read more of them

inventory by carmen maria machado (short story! read it immediately!) is a GREAT example of this. the format of the narration is so integral to the story. does more than elevate it imo, i would argue the story genuinely wouldn't work any other way

g*d. i'm gonna have to become a video essayist

[skyelights-xox]

Currently playing case 1-4 of the first trilogy for the first time and I've gotten to the part where the the boat rental shop caretaker has just Vanished from the courtroom and I KNOW obviously it's not what happened but when the judge said to go search for the guy I couldn't stop picturing the entire courtroom filing out of the building and just fucking booking it down the street looking for him

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

MAG9 - A Father's Love, more quotes and reviews

*rolls in a yellow office chair* heeeeellllllooooooo and welcome back to another episode of my current hyperfixation

let's play a game, everytime Julia says some variation of "my father was a serial killer when I was little" everybody takes a shot

this episode feels to me, after cursed books and trash bags full of teeth, like this quotes from John Mulaney

(Transcript: John Mulaney saying "You know those days where you're like, this may as well happen?")

Like, you come here to have a good time, pulse play, and the very first thing Julia says is MY FATHER WAS A MURDERER. Damn, it escalates really quickly xD

Don't get me wrong, this story it's tragic and all that, it's just my inability to take anything seriously talking. It didn't scare me tho, but I was disturbed by its "normality" ngl

Quote Time:

Nothing to quote from Julia's statement, sorry for that, but well, I must admit that her story is not sth philosophical or funny, so I don't Know what did I expect.

"(...)a small cult that grew around the defrocked Pentecostal minister Maxwell Rayner in London during the late eighties and early nineties. I knew I recognised the name from Statement 1106922 though, currently, it just looks like a coincidence. - Jon Sims, April 10th 2016

lmao Jon, a coindence, he says. You know nothing, Jon Snow blah blah blah

"Robert Montauk died in Wakefield Prison on November 1st 2002. He was stabbed forty-seven times and bled out before anyone found him. After reading this statement, three points of interest occur: no culprit or weapon was ever found connected to the killing; he was apparently alone in his cell at the time, which was supposed to be locked; and at the time of his death the light bulb in his cell was found to have blown out, leaving him in darkness." - Also Jon Jarchivist Sims

"Recording ends." - Said by Jon, calmly, like he didn't unlocked a new level of my insomnia.

Small review:

*insert cheerful voice from teleshopping comercials* do you want second hand trauma? are you in the need of unblocking a new phobia? you are in the correct place!

Every single time there's a Rayner in the podcast is like, uh, another weirdo, and it's not like Jon is the most normal person ever, it's just so freaking funny, like that snail from Adventure Time, you Know?

Tragedy, tragedy, and more tragedy with a side of worldbuilding that tastes like a filler episode. If it looks like a filler, tastes like a filler and sounds like a filler, is it a filler? (no)

The post-statement part it's not funny, it's straight up academic follow up of a succession of facts and then it hits you with that last paragraph like a hammer.

General overview:

Vibe: it starts straight to the point, no detours, and keeps escalating constantly while you mutter wtfwtfwtfwtf and then it just kills you

Horror: it's not spooky, it's worrying, disturbing

Audio: good audio

Humour: the only funny thing here is how I thought I was going to sleep that night (I didn't)

Score: 10/10

[frickenfaded]

--SFW--

This is my first headcanon ever. It's kind of a headcanon anyway.. This is how I think the Feral Boys would react to (f!) Reader getting mad over something stupid while she's on her period.

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Dream

It was about midday and {Y/n} had to force herself to get out of bed to retrieve food. She decided she would get cereal and return straight to her blankets. Once in the quite kitchen, she reached up in a cabinet and grabbed a bowl, however she accidentally set it down way too hard and the brittle glass bowl shattered everywhere.

She was absolutely enraged. All she wanted was a bowl of cereal and *this* is what she gets? It didn't take long after to hear the thomping footsteps of her boyfriend coming down the stairs to see what the commotion was about. {Y/n} stood with her arms crossed, about to make a move for the broom. "Fucking damnit." She cursed, unbelievably mad at the smallest event.

Dream ended up beating {Y/n} to the broom, sweeping up the shards of glass that littered the tile. He was being extremely careful and thinking his words over before speaking. He knew she was in her period, and that meant she gets angered easily and doesn't like being clung onto by anyone during the week. However, he recognized that she still appreciates his presence.

He steps a little closer, giving a small forehead kiss to his girlfriend before resuming the cleaning. "Baby, if you want too, you can lay in my bed while I edit. I'll clean this up and bring you some cereal." He suggested. "How did you know I even wanted cereal?" She asked. "Because, that's normally what you crave." He answered. She thought for a moment before deciding to take him up on his offer. "Thank you, baby." She mutters before heading upstairs.

George

The relationship between {Y/n} and George was still fairly new, this being their third month together. Therefore, he still isn't exactly sure what his girlfriend needs during her special time of the month. However, he's sort of getting the idea. It's just a bit tricky for him to know for sure when she's going through it, because she doesn't tell a soul. She leaves them guessing, taking pride in it even.

But this time was a little different. She was laying down in bed, trying to read the book "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen, when the realization struck her that she was currently using her last (pad/tampon/other). She didn't want to leave her bed, much less her house. She angrily closed her book and slammed in down on the nightstand, thinking over her options in her mind.

George just happened to be passing by her door whenever she slammed her book. It startled him a little, but he entered her room nonetheless. Although she heard him come in, she refused to tear her focus away from her thoughts. George knew something was up a couple days ago. The possibility of her monthly happening was a thought, but he wasn't 100% sure.

"Is everything okay?" He asked, walking over to the edge of the bed before sitting down. "No." She immediately answers, crossing her arms over her chest. She still didn't really want to give in that easily, though. She still had her pride, despite her situation. "What happened?" He wondered. "Nothing." She replied, avoiding his careful gaze.

"C'mon, Love, we both know that isn't true." He says, softening his tone of voice. She almost instantly melts into his stare. She huffs out a breath, however desperate to keep her silence. He treads lightly, brushing a strand of messy hair from her face, whilst caressing her cheek in the meantime. She finally gives way, breaking through to him as if a dam just broke. "Fine." She states.

He smiles, knowing he won without asking the question that would set him up for failure. "I'm on my last (pad/tampon/other) and I don't want to leave the house." She explained. George breaks into a small fit of laughter. "Was it really something that simple? That's nothing compared to what I thought was wrong. But I can get you what you need, Love." He says, after narrowly avoiding a harsh glare. "Would you like anything else while I'm gone?" He wonders. "Hm.. Maybe some chocolate... Please." She answers. He nods before giving her a swift kiss.

Sapnap

Sapnap.. Is quite the special case, to say the least. He does n o t pick up on hints very well... Which leaves him very lost and confused when his girlfriend all of the sudden starts acting a lot different than normal and suddenly more distant with him. She didn't exactly mean too, it was just what happens during her period.

He was scared that he did something wrong because of this, but he couldn't come up with a reason why. Did he leave the toilet seat up? Maybe he accidentally ignored her? What if he forgot about something they were supposed to do? Dear God, did he forget their anniversary or her birthday or something? Despite what he thought he did, he wanted to try and "make things right."

He entered her bedroom as she watching a John Mulaney special on Netflix. He stood beside her bed. "Hey, could we play Pokémon together?" He asked. "No. I don't feel like it." She didn't mean to add the annoyed tone to her voice, but she did. She was just annoyed in general. "D-Did I do something wrong?" He asked, scared of her answer. It was then when she realized she was being short with him and distant.

She sighed, knowing she owed him an explanation now. "I'm sorry, Darling. I didn't mean to come across like that. I'm just... cramping really bad today, and I'm really really really craving some ice cream, but I don't want to get up either." She explains, rambling just a little bit. He blushes a little when he realizes what was going on, but he quickly retrieves some ice cream for the both of them, before joining her in bed and finishing the John Mulaney special together.

Karl

Manz is prepared. I'm talking, he's got a secret box in his closet filled with everything she may need, from pads, to tampons, to chocolates, to a heating pad, he has it all. He's so dedicated to making sure he does everything right that he has a period tracker app on his phone to know when she's about to start. Therefore, he knows when he needs to back up and give you some breathing room.

So one day, when his girlfriend got very upset just because her phone died, he knew exactly why. "Do you need absolutely anything? I brought you a chocolate bar." He says when he hears the ruckus from her room. She softens up almost immediately, always touched by the way he knows what to do and say.

"Thank you.. Could you plug my phone up, please?" She asks. He happily jumps on the simple task, despite her charger literally being right beside her. "And maybe... could we cuddle for a little while too?' She wonders. He smiles brightly. "Definitely." He agrees, before slipping in bed with her as they start to watch Hamilton for the third time.

Quackity

Quackity seems to think it's comedy gold whenever his girlfriend gets infuriated by the tiniest things. He was sitting on the couch, watching something on the T.V., while {Y/n} came out of her room for the first time since today. She came to get a snack herself, not wanting to bother her boyfriend much.

But what she failed to notice as she was walking through the Living Room, was the Thanos doll that Quackity completely forgot to pick up earlier. And of course, she stepped on the damned thing. She yelped, almost falling over thanks to the toy. In a fit of rage, she picked the doll up and stomped over to one of the open windows, throwing it as hard as she could into the outside world.

Quackity could not stop laughing from the moment she stepped on the plastic toy, now laughing harder than ever because of it. "Shut up! It's your stupid fucking fault the thing was left there anyway!" She cursed, clearly displeased. He didn't listen, of course. "I-I'm sorry." He said through his laughter. As much as she wanted to stay mad, his laughter was contagious.

She ended up bursting with laughter as well, their voices mixing like milk and honey in the atmosphere. {Y/n} joined Quackity on the couch, laying across his lap as he played with her hair, the two starting to talk about random topics. She always went through a few days on her period where she was just a little more clingy than the others, but Quackity just learned to accept that. He wouldn't say it exactly, but he did actually enjoy it.

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That's it for this one lovelies! As I mentioned, this is indeed my first headcanon ever and actual content post I've posted on Tumblr. Therefore, I hope it wasn't too shabby. I'll get the hang of things soon, but for now, if you'd like to read any other things I've posted, the list is short, because I am pretty new here, but this option is available to you though this link:

My Creations♡

I hope you enjoy your stay here! Requests are always open! ♡♡

[witchofinterest]

WIP on this day

i was tagged by the lovely @nightwingshero o thanks jo! honestly, right now i’m the john mulaney “well now i’m embarrassed to say meme” bc yours was so good! okay, onto the writing.

tagging: @nolanhollogay @papergirlverse @randomfandomingwrites @randomestfandoms-ocs @superspookyjanelle @iron-parkr @twinmasks @juliesdahlias @fiercefray @notxjustxstories @lizziesxltzmxn and anyone who sees this and wants to do it!!

this is another except from liminal spaces, i promise i’ll write something else soon, i just have a bunch of titans inspo right now. anyway, here’s a reunion scene with little emotional pay off! kinda season 2 spoilers, but it takes place in an au, so. also, season 3 is gonna change a bunch of plans probably, so subject to change.

She walked around the bend, arrow already in the bow, waiting. She and Kori had split up, leaving her to take the warehouse. She didn't know anything about Red Hood, but he was hunting them, so she'd take him out too.

A bullet hit her bow, knocking it from her hands. She hurried behind a crate, looking for where it had landed, which was in the open. Cursing softly, she pulled one of her arrows out of her quiver, thinking of ways to overpower whoever was out there.

“Nice reflexes, but not quick enough,” a jumbled voice chided her. Looking to the right, she saw him advancing. Standing up, she stared into his helmet for a bit, before quickly chucking the arrow straight for his face.

While he reacted, she ran to grab her bow. Reaching it, she pulled an arrow back, aiming for his chest. The armour looked professional, the question was how professional.

“Funny, how history repeats itself,” they chuckled, making no move to shoot her. Finally, they put the gun back in their holster.

“Have we met before? Please tell me I shot you.” she joked, waiting. For a second he reminded her of Jason, but she shook that thought away. He was dead, she knew that.

“You don't have any guesses?” he asked, stepping closer, arrow only an inch from him now.

“I was never really good at guessing games. But I do know how to shoot someone well,” she threatened.

“I'm standing still, shouldn't you be using a compound bow?” he teased, taking another step, the arrow pushing into his chest.

“Are you trying to mess with me? Did a telepath tell you that?” she demanded, keeping perfectly still.

“No telepath needed to tell me,” he said, reaching up to his helmet. She held her breath, unable to do anything but look on. With a hissing sound, he pulled it off, and she knew. He had a domino mask on underneath, but she hadn't seen his real face till after he died. Standing in front of her was Robin. Jason.

She took a few steps back and released the arrow. It hit him square in the chest, and she swung the bow. He dodged all the hits easily, grabbing her wrist.

“What's wrong with you!” he cried. In response she kicked him, and pulled away. Pacing backwards, she shot three consecutive arrows, all hitting him in the chest, adorning the bat on his armour.

“Not happy to see me?” he asked. She couldn't tell if he was kidding or heartbroken.

“Jason Todd died. He was thrown off a building by Deathstroke. Whatever the hell you are, isn't him.” she asserted, coming closer.

“Really? Sincerely Katherine?” he asked, looking annoyed.

“He didn't know my name either, but nice try,”

“I know your name because I heard Dick say it. And I know a lot more than that. You didn't live with your dad, but he thought taking you to an archery class every saturday made up for it. Your mom was just as bad, making you do everything and then feel bad for no reason. You didn't tell your friends because you didn't know how. You started vigilantism because you wanted to help someone in danger. I was your first kiss, and first relationship. Before I left you told me your name started with a K, and you were gonna tell me who you were when I got back. And I'm yours.”

It was the last part that convinced her. All of that information could have been taken from her by a telepath, but not the way he said he was hers, earnest and scared, but sure.

“Why? How? When?” she asked, letting the bow clatter to the ground. She stepped forward quickly now, but stopped only inches from him. He had changed, that much was evident. He had chosen to hunt their friends, he hadn't hurt her, she realized, but also revealed himself to her.

“They let me die and replaced me, a lazarus pit, and a few months.” he answered, bringing a hand up to stroke her cheek. Though her head swarmed with questions, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“So what's the plan here Jay? What's going on?” she asked.

“You'll find out,” he whispered. Before she could ask, Kory called out her name. She turned towards her voice, but when she turned back he was gone. She didn't need to look around to know he wasn't going to be found.

“Kay? Whats a matter?” Kori asked, seeing her face.

“Jason,” she said.

[sukkadeservedbetter]

It’s Different.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: After a dramatic and traumatizing experience at a gas station, things with Tom hit different.

Warnings: Mugging/Robbery

Word Count: 2.6 of fluff

You’ve always been oddly comforted by the smell of gasoline. Anything that smelled like a car garage had always left you with a sense of euphoria: new tires, exhaust pipes, and metals. It wasn't something you could really explain, but as the faint smell of gasoline entered your nose after a horribly long day at work, you welcomed it.

Your mother always told you not to let your mileage gauge get below 50 miles, but you never listened to her. Tonight you got to the gas station with 10 miles left. Tempting the fates was becoming a little hobby of yours—at least when it came to getting gas. Mainly because you hated pumping gas. It wasn't hard, or even a lot of work, but you always realized you needed gas at the worst possible times. Like tonight, for example. You didn't have anywhere to be, but you were tired. You debated whether you wanted to prolong getting into your comfy clothes tonight or wake up earlier tomorrow in order to fill your stupid car with gas. In the end, prolonging rest now seemed a whole lot better than waking up any earlier than you needed to tomorrow.

You begrudgingly dragged your exhausted body out of your car. It wasn't all that late, but the sun had gone down behind the hills and a faint wind nipped at your neck and cheeks. Summer was officially over, but the remanence of long, warm nights hung in the faint pink glow of the horizon. You scrolled through your phone mindlessly as your car's tank filled agonizingly slowly. You heard your mother's voice telling you that you should always wait in your car while pumping gas at night, just in case. You shook off her words. You lived in the sleepiest part of L.A. where nothing even remotely interesting happened. It was all families and Instagram models here—not crackheads and gangs.

The gas pump clicked, letting you know you were finally done with this heinous chore. You placed the pump back in its holster and finished up paying on the pin pad. As you pivoted on your left foot to turn around and hop into your car, you felt cool metal press against the back of your skull. Your throat closed immediately. The pounding in your chest became overwhelmingly loud. Your ears rang and everything began to slow. Whoever was behind you spoke, but you couldn't hear anything.

They teach you about the "fight or flight response," but they never tell you about the third reaction in response to fear: freeze. You wanted to scream, or run, or kick, but you couldn't do anything. Your lip began to quiver as you cursed yourself for never listening to your mom's advice. The person behind you grabbed onto your arm so hard you yelped.

"Shut the fuck up!" The voice yelled. It was deep and gravely. "I said, give me your money and I won't have to use this." You heard the sound of his gun cocking and you let out a silent wail.

"I don't have anything," you plea, putting your hands up to show you were literally empty-handed.

"Do you think I'm a fucking idiot? Where is your purse? In the car? Walk." The man shoved you towards your car. Your mind raced with possibilities of how to get out of the situation. You quickly realized that you were either going to have to give him your money or he would shoot you and there was no in-between. For a moment you let yourself hope that someone would save you in a damsel-in-distress moment, but you knew that real life wasn't a fairytale, and knights in shining armor were far and in between in L.A.

The man turned you around and shoved you against your car door causing you to wince. When you saw his face you let out a sob. He was wearing a Spider-Man mask. Your mind went straight to Tom. You and Tom had been friends for years. You knew he was kind and good, but you couldn't help but associate him with the mask and that made this situation so much worse.

"Now, give me your money so I don't have to blow your fucking head off," The man sneered. You gulped as you turned around to open your car door. The man placed a harsh hand on your hip as you bent over to reach for your purse. Your throat closed up again thinking about what he might do after you give him the money. You grabbed both your debit and credit card out of your wallet. In a stroke of dumb luck, you remembered something from a John Mulaney special you had watched with Tom a while back.

"Here. Fetch!" You yelled as you turned around and chucked your cards as far away from yourself and the car as you could. The man shoved you into your car, causing you to hit your head, as he ran towards your cards which were now scattered about 20 yards away. You slammed your door shut and drove away quickly, hoping he wouldn't shoot towards your speeding car. You felt numb. Your body shook as you drove. You wanted to go home and sob, but you knew you had to go to the police station first.

The police station took forever. You sat in a boring room that was too bright and too cold as you listened to a policewoman talk you through the process of filing a report. You weren't fully there and if she had asked you to repeat what she was saying you wouldn't have been able to. After what seemed like forever, the police let you go. You got in your car and stared forward mindlessly. Where were you supposed to go? Home was the obvious answer, but you didn't want to go back to your dark and lonely apartment after what had happened. Every time you blinked you saw Spider-Man holding a gun towards you.

You realized that you wanted to see Tom. Tom always knew how to make you feel better and after being terrorized by someone who looked like Spider-Man, Tom's happy-go-lucky attitude and soft British voice was something you craved. You checked the time to find that it was nearing 11:30. Tom might not even be home, but you didn't care. You considered calling him first, just to see if he was home, or wanted to see you, but you were already outside of his apartment before you could truly comprehend that you were heading to him.

You stood with shaking hands outside of his building. As you pressed the call button for his apartment, you became instantly anxious. What if Tom didn't want to see you? What if he had someone over? What if—

"Hello?" Tom's voice rang from the speaker. You let out a shaky sigh of relief. At least he was home. "Hello?" Tom asked again.

"Oh, uh. Hi, Tom..."

"(Y/N)? What're you doing here?" He didn't sound upset, just confused.

"I, uh... can I come up?"

"Yeah, of course!" The door buzzed and clicked open. You pushed the ornate gold handle and began bounding up the stairs. You should've taken the elevator in your state, but you didn't want to wait. Your heart was pounding as you climbed to the ninth floor. By the time you got to Tom's apartment, you were out of breath. You took a moment to compose yourself before you knocked. Tom opened the door with a sideways smile. Upon seeing his face you immediately crumpled into his arms and started sobbing. You hadn't processed what had happened yet, but seeing Tom all soft and warm in his hoodie and sweats made you feel safe.

Tom grabbed you just before you hit the floor and wrapped you into a tight hug. You knew he was probably scared and confused, but you couldn't stop crying long enough to explain yourself. You were ugly crying. There were snot and tears coming out of and your jagged breaths made you feel as though you could vomit. Tom didn't say anything he just rubbed your back and pulled you onto his couch.

"I'm-- I'm so... so sorry," You choked out.

"Shhh, it's okay," Tom comforted. "It's alright, Darlin'." Even upset that pet name made your heart swell. "What's going on?" Tom asked. You took a few seconds to gain some composure. You sat up and wiped the tears from your face as best you could. After a few seconds of uneven breathing, you began to tell Tom what happened. His brows furrowed and his grip on your thigh tightened as you told him how this stranger attacked you.

"I didn't mean to bother you so late I just... I didn't know where to go," you said as you concluded your story.

“No, it’s okay! I’m glad you can here. You’re always welcome here. You know that.” Tom pulled you in for another tight hug. You breathed in his cologne. The familiar scent sent your brain back to last spring when the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Tom wasn’t just a friend—or he was, but with benefits. Two years ago after a bad break up and a lot of tequila the two of you first hooked up. After that, it became custom for the two of you to get together whenever you were both single and in the same place. It wasn’t constant and both you had been in and out of relationships since you first hooked up, but when it happened it happened—no questions asked. A part of you often longed for something more, but at the end of the day, you were just happy to have someone like Tom in your life.

You looked up at Tom through glassy eyes. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Tom had always been good at reading you even if you swore you had a great poker face. Tom placed two fingers under your chin and tilted your head so that your lips met his. It was a soft kiss, nothing particularly special, but behind it was all the care in the world and it was mutual. You break apart after only a few seconds.

"I hope that makes up for that asshole using my likeness to mug you." You let out a shaky laugh.

"It did. Thank you."

"I cannot believe the wisdom of John Mulaney came to you in your moment of crisis," Tom laughed.

"Actually, I think it was Detective J.J. Bittenbinder's wisdom," you teased. As you moved to sit completely upright you winced.

"You okay?" Tom asked, suddenly worried.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. That guy just rattled me around a bit. I'll be fine." You were lying. You would be fine, but your hip and back and arm hurt like hell and you didn't want Tom to worry.

"Okay..." Tom said, obviously still unsure. "Do you want to shower? It'll help you relax."

"Yeah, that would be really nice." Tom helped you up from the couch. You followed him to his bathroom with his hand interlaced in yours. You forgot how attractive an attentive/over-protective Tom was.

"You can get in. I'll go grab you a towel," Tom said. You didn't really respond so much as nod, but you knew he knew that you meant, "sure, thank you." You quickly stripped yourself of your clothing and stepped into the steaming water. You winced and cowered away from the water as it hit your forming bruises. You looked down at the marks on your arm and hip which were already red and swollen. The faint outline of fingers traced over your hip. Looking down at the marks, you wanted to cry again, but you knew that there was no point.

You heard the bathroom door open again and could just see Tom's figure from behind the fogged-up glass door. You closed your eyes and let the water pour over your face. When you opened your eyes again Tom's figure was closer to the door, but this time it was devoid of clothing. The door opened and Tom stepped in silently. You turned around to face him.

"Hi," You whispered.

"Hi. This okay?" Tom asked. You nodded, but you suddenly felt the need to cover yourself. You couldn't figure out why you felt so exposed. Tom had seen you naked plenty of times, but this felt different. This was so much more intimate. Normally when you were naked in front of Tom alcohol was involved and during the times it wasn't your exposed body was veiled by the haze of lust and need. Now there was nothing to conceal your skin or your bruises.

Tom's eyes immediately went towards the mark on your arm. He lifted it up to see the bruise better and felt like you could see his heartbreaking as his face crumpled at the sight. "Baby..." he whined, pulling you in for another hug. Your breath caught in your chest at the pet name. Tom never called you 'baby' except for during sex. You (along with most other girls) were always 'love' or 'darling", but this time he called you baby. It felt different.

Your wet body pressed against his. You had never showered with Tom. It was nice. It wasn't sexual like you assumed it would be. In fact, for once, Tom wasn't trying to make an intimate situation sexual at all. Tom pressed a wet kiss to your forehead. "I'm so sorry," he said against your hair.

"It's fine," you mumbled back. Tom turned you around so that your back was now against his chest. You felt his fingertips skim over what you assumed to be various bruises on your back. Without warning, Tom brought his lips down to your shoulders and peppered open kisses across them. He brought his arms around your waist and you bit back a huge grin. Either subconsciously or out of habit leaned your neck to the side to give Tom better access to your neck. Rather than giving you a hickey like you expected him to, he pressed a soft kiss to the exposed skin and turned your head back to meet his lips.

This kiss was different than the kiss you shared on the couch. This kiss was slow and deliberate. Tom slipped in just enough tongue to give you the chills. You could've stayed in that moment forever, but you knew all too well that all good things must come to an end. After what seemed like hours you and Tom stepped out of the shower into the foggy bathroom. Tom wrapped a towel around you, kissing your forehead again in the process. You internally groaned at the thought of putting your jeans back on and going home. Like always, Tom was one step ahead of you.

"Do you want to stay?" Tom asked, but it wasn't like he normally asked you. Something in his voice was different. "I could stay on the couch if you want the bed to yourself, or you could have the couch. I just..." He was nervous.

"You don't need to sleep on the couch," You said, calming Tom's nerves. "You just have to let me borrow a t-shirt."

"Deal." Tom handed you one of his shirts. You slipped your panties back on and let Tom's shirt engulf your figure. It smelled like him. By the time you were finished drying your hair, Tom was already in bed. He was awake, but barely. You slipped into bed next to him and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, Tommy."

"Of course, (Y/N)." You had ended your nights so many times in the same way in Tom's bed, but when he wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder, something felt different.

——

A/N: This is loosely based on an experience I had a few months back and while getting gas I got inspired! Lemme know what you think :)