#i was thinking it then sweater pointed it out in dms and i knew what i had to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

annikin-annotates · 1 year

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CamGirlAU - A Proposal

Hiya ya’ll sorry this has been a long time coming! I’ve been super sick and really had to put this on the back burner! It’s my first time writing smut all on my own lmao so please be kind to me! and I know I said this would be a CamGirl fic, but I’m thinking of incorporating Sugar baby/daddy dynamics in here also. either way I hope you enjoy it! also I’m giving my girl @whoahoney some love in this fic, pls follow her; she posts amazing Eddie fics and Stranger Things content.

Pairing: Modern!Aemond x Camgirl!Reader, Honey x Modern!Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Smut minors DNI, Sexual innuendos, Use of Wacky Baccy, Swearing.

Word Count: 4.5k

The incessant blaring alarm pulled her from her slumber for the third time this morning, she let out an exasperated sigh as she snatched the phone from the wireless charger on the bedside table. If she didn’t get up now she’d miss the train and it would then be a 40 minute uber and she wasn’t interested in forking out that much money. Throwing back the covers with a grunt, her legs stretching as she stood to stretch, she gave herself a once over in the floor length mirror in the corner of her room. Pulling on stockings and a black and grey skirt, tucking in a thick black sweater, and slipping on her well loved platform Mary Janes. Her laptop already sat in her bag along with its charger and a book to read - she had the forethought to pre pack her bag the night before, which meant she had time to tie the top section of her hair into a little bun. She headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth before grabbing her bag and her over ear headphones from the stand on the edge of her desk. taking the stairs two at as time as she swiped her keys from the bowl on the kitchen bench yelling a quick “See ya!” to her roommate who was simply known as ‘Honey’.

Winter in Kings Landing was certainly setting, the brisk breeze as she stepped out of the run down apartment in Flea Bottom sending a jolt through her body. letting muscle memory take over as she put her headphones on and made her trek to the station. It was bustling as usual, not that she could care, she had places to be - and luckily she made the train in time, no free seats though; standing it would be. Scrolling aimlessly through social media filled the time, sending out a post on her cam socials

‘Going live tonight my sweets, hope to see you all there.

Planetary_M0ans xx’

There’s nothing that will ever top the satisfaction of watching all the likes, comments and Dm’s roll in. This whole thing started after a particularly terrible breakup, he had called her a prude and she too that personally. When she first started it all - it freaked her out; all the attention from men, she was shy and prior to her first stream had never even taken a nude picture of herself. Now she was ‘Out pasting her pussy on the sidewalk’ as Honey would say; with the most love and respect. Honey was one of her only friends who had stuck around after the break up, picked her up out of her pity party and into what she had called her ‘Villain Era’. Said Villain Era consisted mostly of eating terrible microwaved mac and cheese and posting thirst traps online; and getting paid. So it all worked out in her favour she would say.

The train came to a screeching halt as she got off at her stop, it was only a five minute walk from where she was so sh wasn’t going to be terribly late to class. The door of the lecture hall clicked closed behind her as she quickly found a seat in the back of the room and opened her laptop, beginning to take notes. At least it was an interesting class - Homicide; The class always brought something different each week and the lecturer didn’t act like he was being held at gun point to be there. The single buzz of her phone in her hand pulled her from her focus, she unlocked her phone to see a message from one of her regular viewers Sunfyre96;

‘Wear that red set, you look delicious in it. I’ll tip extra’

Her eyebrow raised, she knew the set they were talking about it wasn’t the first time he had suggested it.

‘Of course! anything else, My King?’ she responded, they had requested that they only be referred to as ‘My King’ the first time they spoke; and he tipped big, it worked for her. The speech dots appeared and disappeared several times she knew he was trying to come up with a snarky response but only returned with ‘Good, I’ll transfer before the stream’. She double tapped the message to heart it ‘Thank you, My King’ was all she responded with before locking her phone; focusing on the lecture once more.

Once again she was thrust into the cold as her lecture finished, she made her way down the steps of the lecture hall and across the Quad to one of the several campus coffee shops. She rubbed her hands as she waited in line rehearsing what she wanted to order, she stepped up to the counter the man at the counter flashing her a smile “Hello! What can I get for you today?” he asked cheerily. She smiled back at him “Uh Yeah Hi, can I please get a Hot chocolate on oat milk and a blueberry muffin please?” she asked, digging out her card from her wallet, half watching him punch in the order. Pressing her card to the reader, the little beep letting her know it had processed, she gave him another smile as she stepped off to the side to wait for her drink.

Once she had received the rich sugary drink that fuelled her very body and her muffin she would save for a snack later, she began her walk to the station to head home. Putting on her headphones as soon as she sat on the uncomfortable arcade floor patterned seats and sipping her drink, staring out the window thinking about all the things she had to do be for the stream. She decided to be a courteous roomie and send Honey a text,

‘Hi my love, Just letting you know that I’m doing aa spicy stream tonight. Just wanted to be a good roomie and let you know xx’ She replied almost instantaneously ‘If King Sunfyre needs a second, you know where to find me x’, she stifled a snort as the text came through, She could always count on her friend to be accepting. The ride home felt much quicker than the ride that morning, the luke warm heating of the apartment foyer taking some of the chill off her bones. she gave the lady at the front desk a wave, to which she received a sour look and a raised eyebrow over the rim of her purple glasses frames. She cringed at the look and started up the stairwell to the apartment, her keys jiggled in the door as she struggled with the lock, it tended to get jammed on chillier days. Finally shouldering the door open she was met with the smell of weed and patchouli candles, she couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that her friend probably had a certain curly haired puppy eyed boy over.

She didn’t bother with calling out, not wanting to disturb whatever was going on in her roommates room. A quick tidy up of her room was the first chore off the list, laying out the requested red set and snapping a picture and sending it to the requester;

‘The red set, as requested. My King’. There was no response, only the ping of her bank account getting a deposit; she went to check on the amount, thinking it would only be $20 like it usually was. Her breath hitched in her throat s she saw not just two but three zero’s “What do you mean $200?!” she exclaimed, immediately sending her gifter a thank you note, and an attached special picture. Before almost slamming Honey’s door open “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever-the-fuck is going on in here but Sunfyre96 just paid me $200!”. Both Honey and her friend jumped in fright, the brunet trying to hide the glass bong behind his back, no doubt spilling bong water on the floor. Honey gasped “No fucking way! he did not!”, all she could do was nod frantically and show her the bank account “Sushi is on me fella’s!” she laughed, so giddy that she was shaking. Her friends toasted counter part grinned at her “Hell yeah, dudette. Get on that grind” he high fived her, she returned the favour. “Anyway! that’s the good news, I’ll see you guys at like 8pm!” she smiled, closing the door behind her and heading back to her room.

Making quick work of cleaning her room and setting up her equipment, making sure everything was clean before changing into her set for the night. She pulled on a silky robe for her own modesty turning on her setup, ring lights, soft box and back drop that hides the rest of her room from prying eyes. Logging into her computer and opening spotify and pressing play on her chosen playlist for the night. Before she stepped back into the mirror to look at herself, the chosen set was stunning; a deep blood red boning and lace a nude mesh not leaving much for the imagination between her legs. But the bra of the set was a quarter cup, so her breasts sat almost uncomfortably high, her nipples nearly popping over the edge of the cup - there was sure to be a nip slip tonight. Not one to waste too much time, she logged into he streaming platform and her work socials and keyed in all the appropriate information before sending out that a link would be dropping in fifteen minutes. Though she sent an early access link to a few of her higher tier subs for a private pre-show, which was mostly just chatting to a few lonely men and women, though some she came to genuinely enjoy.

Taking the spare few minutes she had to pop on a pretty red lip, her patrons loved when her pretty little lips got all smudged - Their words, not hers. And a matching red bunny mask, she didn’t need anyone finding out her identity. As promised she spent the first fifteen minutes talking to her higher tier subscribers, laughing at their jokes and making sure they were well taken care of. She sent out the secondary link - already having it queued to go out after the fifteen minutes was up, her chat exploded with messages and suggestions. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “Yes, Yes. Hello my loves! How are you all? I appreciate you all coming by tonight! Let’s get started shall we?” She asked.

Luckily she had bought a sit to stand desk making use of the adjustable settings to get that perfect height, she hooked each of her legs over the arm of her chair causing her tummy to scrunch up. Exposing her clothed core to the camera - running a delicate manicured finger down the centre of the mesh slowly, watching some of the messages roll by each one making a little ping. “Take it off?” she asked innocently “I’ll take it off if we can get my tip jar to $300, I’ll be good to you I promise” she continued, rubbing small circles over her clit, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. Unsurprisingly they surpassed the goal set by well over $600, “Aw! Thank you so much my loves” her voice came out sickly sweet. Unhooking her legs from the chair and standing once more “Can we just admire how stunning this set is? Thank you again to Sunfyre96 for their generous donation. I hope I’m doing it justice” she said to the camera, turning around and bending down. Exposing the soft rounds of her ass as she hooked her thumbs on each side of the band and shimmying it down her legs, she was smart enough to wear her thong over her garter so the pretty stockings and garter remained but her pussy was now fully exposed.

She ran a hand over her ass before giving herself a squeeze before sitting once more, hooking her legs over her chair once more. Her heat was now on full display in all its glistening beauty, she ran two fingers along the slit before circling her clit, she leant her head back against the chair, her toes curling in pleasure “Ugh, fuuuck” she moaned. She picked up the pace feeling that familiar bubble in the pit of her stomach form, though her fingers just weren’t cutting it - reaching for the basket beside her chair pulling out her tried and true wand. She was so used to using it that she didn’t even really need to look to see if it was turned on before she held it to her aching button. Switching her wand to her non-dominant hand using her centre two fingers to sink into herself, she couldn’t contain her moans from that point on.

Oh Gods!

Oh Fuck!

I’m gonna cum!

The ever tightening coil in her stomach finally snapped, she rode out that glorious high with her lip between her teeth - though she was sure the apartment three doors down would have heard her by now. When the slight numbness in her body died down, she leant forward to check the chat which was now flooding with comments taking the time to thank each person personally for their donations. “Thank you for coming by my loves! I hope you all had a wonderful time, I will see you later in the week” she said sweetly, blowing a kiss to the camera and ending the stream.

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she stood to clean herself up, putting on a fresh pair of leggings and black thigh high socks with an oversized shirt, a half faded band name printed on the front of it and tour dates on the back. Grabbing her phone from her desk and taking it with her to Honey’s room - making sure to knock this time. Honey and her scruffy haired friend were known to have relations from time to time; it was better for her to be safe than sorry. Only entering when she heard Honey tell her to come in, both of them were under the covers, Honey’s hair was disheveled as she laid on her friends chest; she bit back her grin. “Do you guys still want sushi? I’m sure you both have worked up an appetite” she winked, both of them nodded “Just come down stairs and I’ll order it when you guys are ready” she smiled, closing the door behind her and heading down stairs.

She snatched the tv remote from the table changing it to some lofi on YouTube as she sunk into the worn couch with a loud sigh. A soft tail brushed up against her leg, the near silent plop her feline companion made was more than enough to make her heart squeeze. She stroked the soft fur as she posted on her socials;

‘Thank you all again for joining me tonight, As always I appreciate every single one of you!

Planetary_M0ans xx’

The sound of two sets of thumping feet were coming down the stairs, pulling her attention away from her phone and back into reality. Two grinning faces appeared in to the room, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed and sticky; she raised her brows and gave Honey a knowing look as they made their way to the two seater adjacent to hers. The apartment wasn’t in terrible condition, the walls were that weird shade of beige with a satin finish that always made them feel sticky, the flooring was wood up until the kitchen; where ugly apricot tiles started - they were only in the kitchen which was vaguely annoying, why not just keep the hardwood? “-getting?” She caught the tail end of Honey’s question, “Huh?” she questioned shaking off the fog clouding her brain “What are we getting?” Honey asked with a half laugh. Shaking her head once more and opening her phone “Ya’ll still want sushi right? Or we could get burgers?” she asked without looking up. An excited “Oh!” was heard from her companion, looking over the rim of her glasses, her smirk hidden by her phone; Honey snorted at his reaction “Burgers please, oh kind ruler” she laughed, it was one that came from the depths of her throat.

They passed around the phone each of them taking turns in ordering what they wanted from the local burger joint - Joey’s. They all sat and chatted for a while, exchanging giggles and jokes until Honey’s scruffy haired companion - Eddie, broke the giggles “Hey, I uh gave your phone number to my Uncle. You said you were an accountant and I told him you were really good at your job and could help him file his taxes” he said with a sheepish grin. Both her and Honey stared from each other, to Eddie and then back to each other before bursting into a fit of racious laughter. “E-Eddie! That’s not the type of accountant she is!” Honey cackled, slapping him on the arm playfully, “There’s other kind’s of - Oh.” he began before cutting himself off, his face flushing. He looked to the girl opposite him, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the inside of her shirt “I’m sorry - I” he stammered. She waved him off hardly containing her laughter “It’s no problem at all dude, but I would fuck up your Uncles tax so bad. I’ll send you the details of my actual accountant later though” she chuckled.

Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she took that first bite of her burger, chasing it with a mouth full of fries “My fucking god! Joey’s never fails us!” she groaned. Her roommate giggled at her “Praise Joey, King of the grill!” she praises in between bites of her own burger, Eddie on the other hand was so consumed in his burger that he said absolutely nothing the entire time, choosing to focus his attention wholly on the food in front of him. “Praise Joey!” she laughed, the three of them had spent many a night drinking and stumbling into Joey’s grill for a late night burger. Sighing in contentment as she popped the last part of her burger in her mouth, slapping both hands on both her legs and getting ups with a sigh “Well! I’m going to shower and go to bed, I’m tired as heck” she said with a yawn.

The steaming water soothed her body and she stepped into the shower and letting her shoulders drop and throwing her head into the water. She spent a while washing and conditioning her hair, and moisturinging after she got out she slipped into her favourite pajama's; yellow and black tartan bottoms and a plain black shirt. The hardwood creaked as she padded across the hall to her room, closing the door behind her as she stepped inside and flicking the light off. She crawled into bed under the cover of darkness and opened her phone once she was situated, there was a notification of a message through Instagram;

Legacy_98 sent you a message request

this’ll be good she thought to herself as she opened her insta and read the message; Hello, I viewed your live stream tonight. I want to know if you would be interested in an arrangement?

Her brows furrowed, she exited out of the message and looked at the profile, no followers, no following and no posts - suspicious. She was very familiar with the type of person she was dealing with here, a total fake - these guys really have to try harder. Switching back over to the message she began to reply; Sure! what did you have in mind? She hit send and exited out of the app, choosing to scroll on TikTok instead.

less than two minutes later came a response; I would like to pay you for private calls and for you to accompany me to events, set your price. I will pay. Her eyebrows rose now she was intrigued, I don’t usually take private clients. She responded. The response bubble popped up You seem to give Sunfyre96 special treatment Was all he responded with, an incredulous laugh escaped her before she replied again. Bold words for someone requesting my services she retorted, her chest puffing at her snarky response I’ll pay you $2,000 a call.

“He’ll pay what?!” Honey exclaimed from the kitchen, watching the breakfast sausages she had sizzling in the pan. “He said he would pay 2k every phone call!” she replied, Honey turned to her friend, the tongs still in her hand “And what did you say?” she pressed. “I said yes - but only if he could provide proof he had the funds!” She said, putting her hands up in mock surrender. Honey’s brows rose higher - if that was even possible, “And how did he do that?” she questioned, turning back to the stove to take the sausages off the heat. “…He paid me 3 grand up front…” she mumbled, Honey’s head whipped around so fast she was sure her friends neck would break “What!” she cried, nearly dropping the plate full of breakfast sausages. She shrugged “I mean yeah, like it’s no biggie if this guy want’s to spend his money on me” she tried to play it cool but her insides were just about vibrating. Honey sighed heavily “If you’re sure about it - just be safe and don’t be stupid about it. Keep your head screwed on; I don’t need another messy girl on my doorstep”. She pressed her hand to her chest in offence “I’ll have you know that this is my apartment!” she laughed “But I will, I promise. that won’t happen to me again” she finished, loading her plate with some eggs, a pancake, some bacon and some breakfast sausage. They both ate together in silence “Where’d Eddie go?” she asked her friend softly, a soft sigh escaped her “Oh - uh, He’s at band practice. They are hoping to be picked up by talent scouts at their next gig” Honey responded, swallowing the hunk of pancake in her mouth.

Nodding to her friend as she thought for a moment, “Why don’t you go and surprise him? take him lunch or something, that’d be cute” she offered, as she stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash her plate. There was a pause, “Hmm, I might. I dunno” Honey replied softly, Her friend rose her eyebrow “What’s the matter?” she asked, taking her friends hand and leading her to the couch. Honey sat with a loud sigh and threw her legs across her friends “I don’t know, I just don’t think we’re going anywhere. Like - I invite him over, we, you know…And then he acts like he’s oblivious to what’s going on” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She sat for a moment to formulate what she needed to say, “Well - If you feel he isn’t giving you the attention your relationship deserves, have a talk to him about it! you never know, he might not know he’s doing it. and if not; There are plenty of hot guys out there! this is Kings Landing!” she smiled, rubbing Honey’s calf soothingly. “You know what? You’re right - life’s too short to do this stupid little dance, I’m going Up-Town right now” Honey said trying to hype herself up.

About twenty minutes later she was left all alone in the apartment, laying on the couch staring at the ceiling - doing nothing. She had tidied the kitchen and done the dishes by the time Honey had left to confess her undying love to Eddie - so she was left with not much to do. Just as she was about to fall sleep; her phone buzzed on her stomach, she picked it up to see a message from Legacy_98;

Are you free to call right now? I would like to talk about our arrangement. She could feel her heart beginning to race as she began to type Uh yeah, sure. Give me two seconds and I’ll call. Quickly jogging up the stairs and into her room, closing the door behind her, perching herself on the side of her bed; pressing the little call icon on the app.

It rang once, twice and picked up on the third ring; “Hello?” a deep, smooth voice asked “Hello, am I talking to Legacy98?” she asked softly, a little unsure of herself. A beat of silence followed the question, “Yes, I am.” was all he said, “Not much of a talker, are you?” she quipped light heartedly. He let out a soft chuckle - the kind that just comes from your nose “No - I suppose I’m not” he responded, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. A sigh escaped her - “Well, my name’s Kit, It’s nice to meet you. I like long walks on the beach and eating shredded cheese from the bag when I’m sad” she wasn’t exactly sure where they reply came from but the rumble of a chuckle over the phone made her smile. A short silence followed as if in contemplation, “My name’s Aemond -” the following sentence that garbled over the phone line fell of deff ears, surely they were joking right? right? Shaking the stunned silence from her throat with a cough “Um, I’m sorry - I didn’t catch that, you said your name was Aemond - right? as in -”. He cut her off, his smooth voice overlaying her own “As in Aemond Targaryen”. Aemond said it as if he and his family weren’t house hold names and constantly on the front pages of magazines, there were fan pages online dedicated to this man. He could feel the tension on the phone line “All I ask is that you come to one event with me, all you have to do is act as arm candy. I’ll pay for all the expenses. If you find you still don’t want to do this - we can go our separate ways”.

Her eyebrows rose as a smirk spread across her face “Deal” was all she said, he made a sound somewhere in-between an acknowledgement and a grunt before he hung up.

Legacy_98: Meet at this address tomorrow at 8am, do not be late.

Planetary_m0ans: I won’t.

She flopped back onto her bed, a satisfied grin on her face and a thrumming in her ears. Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

taglist: @adelusionalwriter @princesssszzzz @chainsawsangel @poppyreader @sahanna @hopelesswritergall @arcielee

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bluiex · 1 year

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my ptsd is bad today so here’s some fluff i wrote (well AM writing at the time of typing this) to get my mind off all that

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Grian leaned back on his feet wiping his forehead of the sweat coating it. He closed his eyes using his hands on his hips and wings to stretch is body out. He has been working on a build since sunrise only stopping for a quick lunch about three hours ago. He heard a few pops he winced at but overall the stretch felt nice.

He continued stretching parts of his body till he felt a ding from his communicator, he has set it to DM only so he knew it wasn’t just someone messaging the main server. He grabbed it from where it was hooked on his belt and tapped the icon showing Scar had been the one to send the message.

He felt himself pale as he saw the lone message saying ‘help’ he instantly checked Scar’s location and saw he was at his base. He instantly sped off with his wings feeling any sense of exhaustion leave his body. What if Scar had fallen on a bad condition day? What if mobs had swarmed him and he was barely hanging on? What if he’d accidentally gone vex-mode and was stuck clipping through the floor? His mind raced with horrible thoughts as he landed outside.

He rushed in calling out “Scar?! Where are you?” panicking and listening for a sign of Scar.

“In the bedroom!” Scar called back and Grian dashed to it immediately prepared for countless horrible scenarios, instead Scar looked fine. He sat on the bed almost happily, he wasn’t bleeding, didn’t appear to be clipping, didn’t seem in any pain he looked fine.

“Scar whats wrong!? Are you alright?!” Grian yelled rushing to the bed and Scar suddenly shushed him pointing at his lap where Grian hadn’t noticed Jellie later asleep.

“Keep it down, she fell asleep on my lap and I got hungry,” Scar said happily albeit a little softly to not wake up the cat he mentioned. Grian just stared at him. He had messaged him just ‘help’ with absolutely no context in the middle of the day knowing he’s accident prone and disabled? Oh Grian was pissed.

“Scar!? That’s what you needed help with?! I thought you were hurt, or on the floor, or IN the floor and the cat had just fallen asleep on you lap?!” Grian shouted angrily and Scar recoiled not expecting the outburst.

“Scar I thought you were seriously injured or something, you can’t just- just DO that to me,” Grian said calming down slightly rubbing a hand down his face. Scar looked guilty not meeting his eyes.

“Sorry… I didn’t think about that, I didn’t mean to worry you,” Scar said looking guilty. Grian sighed rubbing his hands on his temples.

“It’s alright, but you need to remember how much I worry about you alright? What do you want to eat?” Grian said and then asked after a slight sigh.

“Can you make pancakes and hot cocoa?” Scar asked.

“Scar it is 3 pm.” Grian said flatly looking him dead in his eyes.

“So? It’s never not time for a nice breakfast, besides you look all sweaty and your sweater is around your waist and your undershirt is rolled up, you were clearly building all day you deserve the break. Have pancakes and cocoa with me in the bed while we pet this adorable cat on my lap,” Scar said stating his messy appearance. Yeah, That did sound kind of nice actually.

They stared at eachother for a little while till Grian sighed “fine, we can have breakfast at 3 pm, but tomorrow your helping me with my build.” Grian agreed to Scar’s enjoyment.

That’s how they ended up at about 3:30 in the afternoon snuggled up in bed with Jellie eating chocolate chip pancakes with syrup and whipped cream while drinking hot cocoa. Grian made a few comments about the sugar levels but Scar brushed it off saying they deserved it.

They stayed up watching movies until ultimately falling asleep on eachother just happy to be close. The world could wait.

—

ok that made me feel better it was so cute i had a very basic idea and tan with it :)

-🍞

(ik this is late but i do hope youre feeling much better now<3)

AWWW akjjkhdfg them. just.. them. Scar refusing to get up cuz Jellie fell asleep on him *cries* (same tho)

#bluie gets an ask poggers #long post

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jqemfanfic · 2 years

Text

Love in the Limelight, Chapter Three: Embarrasing Introductions - Side B

Once the brothers had finished with all the introductions and speeches it had gone way over time and it had already reached 12:30. We were supposed to wrap it up at 11:00.

I was hankering for a coffee so bad at this point.

The brothers ushered us out of the meeting room and down the hall to the entrance where there were about 20 golf carts lined up to take us to the main set where a breakfast buffet was set up for us. I got into a cart with Gaten, Sam, and Natalia. Our conversation was full of catch-up talk and general chit-chat as we hadn't seen each other in a while. I was listening to what they were saying and contributing where I could or when I was spoken to, but honestly, my mind was elsewhere.

How can I ask who he is without it sounding weird? What if they get sus? Is he crew or is he part of the newer cast? However, I didn't have to ask as he was brought up in the conversation anyways. "Have you met Eddie yet Billie?" I looked over at Sam who was next to me. She had been trying to make sure she knew who everyone was before we started production so she studied the cast and crew books religiously. "hmm?" I hummed before snapping out of my blank stare, realizing I was being spoken to "Um no not yet, what is he like? Is he nice?" I asked still only somewhat engaging in the conversation. "He was the guy in the corner talking to Noah and David, the one with the green sweater?" explained Gaten. "I don't know if you noticed him but he's playing Eddie. His name is Joseph". Suddenly my interest in the conversation went from 0 to 100 real quick. I had to compose myself for a second before I let my face tell everyone what my head was thinking.

Then reality set in.

You're the "leader" of the hellfire club, as the brothers put it. Oh god... The nausea was back. This means that I'm going to be spending a lot of time with this guy. Eddie is the Dm of the Hellfire club. He was the new main character of the group. My heart quickened at the thought and the colour that had just left my cheeks snuck back up on me again. Perfect, let's make it obvious you have a lady boner for him, shall we? I brought my hand up to my mouth, picking at my lip, another one of my anxious quirks.

"Yeah, the guy who was literally eye fucking you from across the room" Sam whispered as she leaned into my ear. I darted my gaze at her, shocked at her words. I playfully punched her shoulder and she laughed, i grabbed her arm. My face was in full-on tomato mode now.

"Shut up Sam, he was not! oh my god," I yell whispered. I hoped to God the others weren't listening. A huge smile I couldn't hold back enveloped my face. "So, you did notice him then?" she whispered again, a menacing smile still on her face. She cracked her knuckles and her neck, tilting her head side to side

"wingman mode, activated" she smiled.

I squeezed her arm and looked her dead in the eye and mouthed don't you dare. She shrugged, still with the menacing smile plastered on her face. Before she could give me a smart-ass response, we pulled up outside the giant air hanger of a set we saw that there were lots of tables set up and the breakfast buffet ready and waiting. Everyone had been assigned tables in an attempt from the brothers for people who may not know each other to mingle. Sam said she would find my table for me.

I however made a B line for the coffee table.

I grabbed the biggest cup possible and filled it to the brim. I sighed happily as I brought it up to my lips and let out a quiet fuck yes to myself before closing my eyes taking a sip of the warm liquid gold.

"I guess coffee is the way to your good side, noted," said a voice to the side of me. I turned my head and saw him. Making tea for himself. He looked up from stirring to smile at me. I choked slightly on my drink as I turned to face him. He's British?

"You okay?" he said, a look of concern mixed with amusement on his face. "didn't mean to scare you"

Fuck.

I blushed whilst I nodded, trying to swallow as I died inside and put the cup back down on the table. "Joseph, Joseph Quinn" he reached his hand out for me to shake "how very Bond of you" I said with a smirk, happy with my quick remark "Sybil, Sybil Monet, but everyone calls me Billie" I took his hand and shook it. Goosebumps enveloped my whole right side as he touched me.

"Sybil? Now that's a name you don't hear anymore" he added "very British" he took a sip of his tea, not breaking eye contact.

God damn those eyes.

"Um yeah, my parents really made my heritage obvious" I laughed. "But I mean I feel like the same could be said about your name". He nodded with a grin swallowing his sip of tea "touché" he smirked. He has the most attractive smile. I looked down and realized that our hands were still attached. I cleared my through and gently pulled my hand away. Though I knew that I didn't want to.

He reluctantly pulled away his too "you don't sound all that British though? Is that Australian I hear?" he asked, crossing his arms, and looking me up and down, again. I don't think my heart can handle him scanning me like that. Especially since with his arms crossed it made the width of his shoulders more prominent.

God damn.

"Yeah, it is, I am British though I lived there till I was 12 then my family and I moved to Melbourne." I responded twirling my watch around my wrist in a nervous fashion. "Right, I for sure heard a fleck of British in your voice when you were talking back there so that explains it." I sucked my teeth with a smile whilst nodding my head.

"yeah, it definitely comes out when I'm nervous" reaching up and rubbing my neck, eyes glued to the floor to cover the red on my blushing cheeks. "So, I make you nervous?" he asked. My Head tilted trying to gain my eye contact back. My head shot back up and looked at him, realizing I must still have a British fleck in my voice as I was talking to him.

Fuck.

He smirked at me, sipping his tea again and looking at me over the rim of his cup. what is going on? Is he flirting with me?

I opened my mouth to say something, but Sam came in and saved me. "I found your table Billie, it's number 3," she said smiling at my blushing face, knowing exactly why I was doing so. I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Thank God for Sam.

"Hi I'm Sam, Billie's assistant" she smiled at joseph and reached out her hand to him. "Joseph" he smiled and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, I think you guys are on the same table anyways if you want to follow me" she added and she turned to lead us to our table sneaking a quick knowing glance at me.

Joseph looked at me and motioned for me to go first "after you" he said. Ugh he's cute. "Thank you, kind sir," I laughed as I followed on behind Sam.

Is he being a gentleman? Or is it an excuse to check me out?

Please God let it be both.

#joseph quinn #stranger things #fanfic #smut #eddie munson

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moongothic · 1 year

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I had been putting off catching up on Bells Hells for like over a month because I knew I'd be painting sooner or later and while painting I want to have some nice background noise that lasts a long ass time (so I don't have to pause painting just so I can find something else to watch y'know how it is) and I knew CritRole would be perfect for this, so I saved up a bunch of episodes

Point is, I finally caught up (to episode 56), and I have a mouth so I must scream

First off. God. Good dear god. Matt please. Please let Caleb and Beau be alright, especially Beau, please let her be okay, I don't want Yasha to lose her second wife, if something happened to her I shall perish

Two, I'm sad the Bells couldn't hang out with Caleb and Beau longer, if only because I think it'd be funny if Caleb invited the Bells Hells into the Might Nein. Like I just keep on picturing Matt doing his best Caleb impression and doing the good ol' "welcome to the Might Nein" to the crew, like how funny would that be, your DM inviting your new character(s) into the group of your old characters while playing as them

Third, Imogen's group's going into the woods and I'm just. How funny would it be if they ran into Caduceus. Like there's reason why he'd be at the ruins, but how funny would it be. They'd have THREE CLERICS AT ONCE. Also since Ashton's not present would Taliesin be able to join the table sfhgdhhjdkgfgh

I'm enjoying the slightly cursed robo romance, Imogen's constant worry for Laudna is breaks my heart everytime she mentions her, I'm enjoying our guests and this side adventure they're going on

I just

I want to know what's happening with Orym's group

Like we ended on a cliffhanger so I do wanna know what happens with Imogen's group next episode but the episode after that could we like go slightly back in time and check on Orym and co, pwease, I am so very worried and I want to know what they're doing ;__;

Oh also Deanna claiming she could knit a sweater in 12 hours had me reeling lmfao Like I can't tell if Aabria has no idea how long it takes to knit a sweater or if Deanna's just That Good but regardless, lmfao god

OH ALSO ONE LAST THING. New art cute!

#Mine #Text post

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thespermdonorstorylineisstupid · 1 year

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Way Too Deep of a Dive, part 2/3

I think Margaret is wearing the same black top in the coma reality as she is when visiting Buck in the hospital. Later when trying to convince Buck to stay in the coma reality with her and Philip is the only time she attempts to liken herself to Buck with her costume. It’s like part of Buck’s subconscious is screaming out at him through his parents “wait this is what you’ve always wanted; they’re here for you; they see you” but he knew it wasn’t real. He has a family that needs him and sees him as he truly is in the real world.

Athena’s connection to Buck is not the focus of the episode however she is still placed in a fabric that is similar to Buck’s main outfit of the episode. She wears a cream colored sweater. The color of the sweater shows the line from her to May to Buck and represents the importance of family whether through marriage or blood. The fact that Athena is wearing a sweater that doesn’t completely match Buck’s shows her connection to him through marriage and Bobby but not as chosen family.

Similar to Athena and May, Maddie wears a wonderful soft, cream colored cardigan at the end of the episode. This sweater seems to convey pure love and comfort and I think that it seen through the wonderful hug between Maddie and Buck. He even sinks further into her arms, feeling safe with her.

Christopher is shown in three outfits. First, Christopher is seen wearing a dark blue shirt (with the depth of color it is hard to tell whether is a cotton or sweater material). This color directly ties him to Buck in both realities and Christopher’s pleading with him to come back to him and the rest of his family is a major point in the episode. Honestly, a deep dive could be done over Christopher and the symbolism relating to him from the episode.

In the coma universe, Christopher is shown wearing a blue and green striped sweater. This matches much of Buck’s outfits throughout the episode in both the coma universe and in reality because that is how important this child is to Buck. The relationship between Christopher and Buck is absolutely a father-son one similar to Buck and Bobby. The third outfit feels like a return to his regular self. Now that his second father figure is out of the woods, he gets to be a kid again and wear a shirt that reflects that.

This is part 2/3 on this unholy deep dive. I would really love to unhinge with the rest of you<3

also this was so fun to write and I got to flex my film studies minor out a bit which was fun!!!

I would love to hear your thoughts! So tags, comments, dms, everything please!!!!<3

#look okay so i literally lost my mind writing this but it was also very fun #there are three parts because it sort of snowballed #i didn't even cover everything that I wanted to #please be gentle #911 fox #in another life deep dive #costumes choices matter they said and i said fucking bet #evan buckley #may grant #athena grant #christopher diaz

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nocturnal-dreams · 3 years

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Protective

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Pairing: Karl Jacobs x F! Reader (although I guess also GN neutral works, maybe just an AFAB reader)

Warnings: mentions of abuse

Note: Drug dealer Karl pog?

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'Be there at 10'

You rolled your eyes reading over the text from Garrett, of course, he couldn't risk his perfect reputation to do his own dirty work. Feeling the eyes roaming across your body made your skin squirm, you knew your outfit was rather revealing, your shirt making your cleavage pop out making multiple drunk men keep their eyes on you or rather your cleavage. You knew you'd have a word with Garrett later about it although you know he most likely wouldn't have cared.

You weren't sure why you were still dating Garrett, I mean he was a dick. You guessed you just stayed with him for this long because of his money, he had a house and a stable income that allowed you to live very comfortably, or at least as comfortable as you could get.

This wasn't your first time buying drugs for Garrett, he always gave you the money and a small description of the dealer's looks and location. He couldn't risk his perfect rep being ruined by someone finding out about his drug usage so he decided to risk yours. Garrett was waiting just outside in the car for you to finish the deal, the only problem was you were having a hard time finding the dealer.

Your eyes scanned the room of drunk individuals till they landed on someone. A guy was walking down the stairs as your eyes followed the handsome stranger. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater with yellow plodded jeans, multiple rings on his fingers which had the nails painted black. His hair was a light brown, almost like a mop on his head but it suited him, unlike most men you had seen with the style. As you stared longer, you saw him turn towards you, catching your gaze in his steel-grey eyes. He was coming near you as you tried to look away, trying to lose yourself in the crowd but you already felt his hand around your arm.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for someone; average height, kind of greyish black hair, round glasses, might be wearing some kind of ugly button-up shirt," the handsome stranger had said as you stared at him, he had to be referring to Garrett. This stranger did match Garrett's description of the dealer, he looked too nice to be a drug dealer though.

"Do you happen to be Jacobs?" you questioned, you just wanted to make sure that this was the right guy before you went and spilled your reason for being here on a complete stranger.

“Just call me Karl, so you know Garrett?” Karl had said, you didn’t want to stay around him much longer than you needed too. Not that you were scared of him, actually the opposite, he made you feel safe, it's just you didn’t want Garrett to get impatient.

“Garrett sent me, do you have my stuff?” you tried to hold yourself, you didn’t want to seem vulnerable, that was the biggest thing that Garrett was annoyed about. He didn’t want you to seem weak when he would send you on his drug pick-ups.

“Garrett couldn’t even come to his own deal,” Karl laughed, it was a cute laugh, a lot better than Garrett’s rare rough chuckle that you disliked, if you had to be honest, everything about Garrett you disliked. If it wasn’t for his bank account and house, you would have left a long time ago. Karl looked you over, his eyes roaming over your body wasn’t very different from the crowd but it also felt different, “so what’s someone like you buying stuff like this?”

“And who are you to ask what I buy? Aren’t you just doing this to get paid?” you were growing tired of Karl since he was wasting your time, it wouldn’t be long until Garrett would be coming into the party yelling at you for taking too long.

“Well I could always just refuse to sell it to you,” Karl asked again, “so why are you buying this stuff? You’re wearing only what I can describe as little miss sunshine to a party, you don’t buy drugs.”

“It’s for my boyfriend, now gimme!” you groaned and rolled your eyes.

“I’m not giving this to you, Garrett can come out here and buy it himself. You know my friend Chris mentioned someone being here instead of Garrett, just didn’t think it’d be someone as beautiful as you,” Karl looked away from you towards the crowd, leaning on the rail looking down at the party, “but till Mr Dogwater gets here, I’m not leaving you, I can’t tell how many guys I’ve seen just eyeing you like meat since you got here. It’s honking disgusting. Perves.”

You hide the smile on your face from his own censorship, “it’s how it always is. It’s how I live.”

“That shouldn’t be how life is, it's sad. Guys should learn to keep crap to themselves,” Karl sighed.

You glanced at him, his eyes looking at the crowd of people dancing and drunkenly talking to themselves. You were disappointed in yourself for feeling so safe around someone you just met, this was what exactly Garrett was bitching to you about two hours ago.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally decided to introduce yourself, it was only fair.

“Do you always pick up for Garrett?” you nodded in response to Karl’s question then realized he wasn’t looking at you.

“Yeah. He says that he can’t be seen around people like-well-like you.” You gestured towards Karl, him looking at you out the corner of his eye.

“Drug dealers? He can’t be seen with drug dealers but is willing to risk your safety and reputation to be around me? Put you in danger? You know drug dealers are dangerous right?” he looked at you.

“So you’re saying you’re dangerous?” you laughed through the pain his question brought, you knew at this point the relationship between you and Garrett, you were just his drug camel and something for him to stick his dick in when he got bored.

“I’m not dangerous,” Karl shook his head.

You were about to reply when Garrett came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest, his eyes narrowing on Karl as Garrett’s grasp on you tightened, almost bruising. “Hey babe,” you had been too wrapped up in your conversation with Karl to even notice Garrett enter the party, “who’s this twink?”

You tried to hide how uncomfortable you had grown when Garrett’s hands left your waist and grabbed your ass, “uh Karl… he has your uh- you know?”

You heard Garrett sigh before he leaned into your ear, making it hard for Karl to hear with the music as Garrett whispered angrily, “why couldn’t you fucking get it? You know I can’t be seen around people like him, let alone his twink ass.”

Karl glared, able to read Garrett’s lips. Karl pushed himself off of the rail, his arms being crossed across his chest, “I wouldn’t allow them. If its not for them then I can’t give it to them.” Karl said loudly as Garrett told him to shut up, “listen if you want the stuff then you gotta get it yourself, Jimmy’s rules.”

A few people started to stare at the scene, Garrett’s jaw clenching as his grip on your arm tightened, “come on, I can get it from somewhere else.”

“Can’t we just go home, I don’t want to go anywhere else, I’m tired,” you spoke quietly, trying to hold back your protests to tell Garrett to lighten his hold on your arm which was starting to hurt from his painful grip.

“Y/N we can go home when I find someone else to get my supply from,” Garrett’s grip only tightened.

“Dude she wants to go home, take her home,” Karl chimed in, his voice no longer the cheering tone but rather low and pissed off, “they have a fucking say and you’re being hella rude. They want to go home. Take them home now.”

“Dude whatever. I’m leaving. Are you coming with me or no?” Garrett looked down at you. You couldn’t form any kind of words on your tongue as you started to back away towards Karl, shaking your head. Garrett’s jaw clenched as he rolled his eyes, “whatever, we’re done, bitch!”

Your boyfriend or rather now ex-boyfriend started to walk away down the stairs. Karl’s jaw clenched and and turned Garrett around on the stairs and clocked him right in the jaw, sending Garrett stumbling down the last few steps. You put your hand over your mouth holding back the slightest laugh. Garrett had stood up and went to punch Karl but Karl pulled up his shirt slightly over his belt and flashed something that sent Garrett running out.

You furrowed your eyebrows confused on what just happened as Karl came back up the stairs to where you were standing as you thanked him. Karl shrugged, “no problem, here let me take you home with me.” He said as you bit your lip.

Sure you didn’t know Karl well but you trusted him better than you ever did Garrett. “Alright, let’s go,” you smiled as Karl smiled back. You walked out with Karl behind you leading you over to his car. People would look at the two of you cause of what happened but one glance from Karl made them turn away. You felt safe with Karl, something you never felt with Garrett.

Karl drove you to his home, allowing you to borrow some of his clothes and sleep on his bed after you asked him for number allowing you two to keep in contact. You told him goodnight as you got into his bed, him leaving to his living room as you fell asleep happy for once.

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Thanks for reading, don’t forget to like and maybe reblog as it really does help me out

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Taglist: @sadassflatass @ajesterscrown @sugarsoftie @aremegay @twist3dtinkerbell @nova-is-a-goodgirl @appl3-c1d3r @dream-of-eros @elebeleb @1-800-dreamteam @rebloggingismylife @bugthegremlin

To be added to my taglist just dm me

S-Tierre Taglist: @atlast999 @satansphatass @punzxox @wes10k @nsfw-giz

==============================

#karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs imagines #feral boys #feral boys x reader #feral boys imagines #mr beast #mr beast x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #drug dealer Karl

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doiefy · 3 years

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blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems for beta reading this for me !! <333

spotify playlist

Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out, but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #the longest shit ive ever written hoLY SHIT #cznnet

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 5

Masterlist

Shoutout to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my sounding board and beta reader! She's the absolute best a girl could ask for, thanks my love!

Word Count: 3.0k

Recommended song: "The Heart is a Muscle" by Gang of Youths

You woke before the sun, Pierre's bare chest pressed to your back and an arm slung over your middle. You wiggle in his grasp, trying to be sneaky as you turn to face him but ultimately waking him. You run a finger over his lips as they curve upwards before biting lightly. You draw back and he laughs quietly.

"Morning," You whisper, head throbbing slightly. "I feel like I got hit by a train."

"Knocking back four or five shots in a few hours will do that to you." Pierre stretches, arching his back and exposing his neck. The slight mark you left the night before had darkened into a true, unmissable bruise. The reminder of it sent a thrill down your spine, and you couldn't resist ghosting your lips over the hurt.

He sighs, cupping your chin and bringing your mouth up to his. The kiss is lazy, both of you still too ensnared by sleep to put any heat into it.

You stayed tangled in him until Yuki called to remind Pierre they had to be at the airport by eight. You helped him pack as slowly as you could manage, a stone settling in your gut. When the time came, Pierre hadn’t wanted to leave, only relenting when Yuki called again to say the jet was waiting on him.

The longing wasn't something that normally hit you this hard when Pierre left. It was new, the edges raw and unhealed when you poked at it. Everything on campus Tuesday reminded you of him, from the sunlight hitting the lab table to the rare cloudless blue of the London sky.

Just when you’d gotten over the sting of his absence, the news broke. Charles sent you the link to the article, simply captioned, 'You will want to read this.'

Gasly snogs mystery girl in London bar, the headline read. And fuck, that was a grainy picture of you standing between his legs, fingers tangled in his hair. You scroll through the article, heart in your throat, praying you weren’t called out by name.

By some small miracle, whoever had taken the photos hadn’t gotten one of your face. Against your better judgement, you checked the comments.

That was where your name came up. Fans had connected the dots. Your hair had been up that night, but it was the exact same shade as the picture. Your instagram had been filled with photosets of London for months, and Pierre had flown out early before Silverstone. Clearly he had been meeting someone. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that you were the one in the photos, even if the article didn't mention you directly.

The first DM didn’t come for a few hours. It was nasty, the user hurling cruel words at you that struck your chest like tiny knives. Plenty more followed, threats and names alike.

Gold digger.

Does she really think she deserves him?

He could do so much better.

You couldn’t bear attending classes. You sent Pierre the link to the damning article and stayed in your apartment and sobbed. The fans- if they could even be called such a thing- pulled no punches. Every DM and comment struck home, until you eventually had to turn your phone off and curl up in bed, defeated.

People are cruel, you thought, wiping the tears that streak down your cheeks.

You kept your phone off for a few hours before you gathered the courage to check it again. You immediately uninstall any and all social media, unwilling to let it affect you further than it already had. But messages pour in, most from Pierre and a few from your brother.

Hell yeah! Was all your brother sent, along with a screenshot of the article. Your mouth twists, the memory of the comments washing over you again.

Pierre’s messages were the ones that broke you. There were close to a dozen of them, accompanied by missed calls and panicked voicemails.

“Are you okay? Please pick up the phone, my love, I need to hear that you’re okay. I love you. Please call me back.”

The last message, time stamped from a half hour earlier, simply said, “I’m getting on a plane.”

A fresh sob wracks your body. You press a hand to your mouth, trying to silence it. God, he was so pure hearted. You knew the comments would hurt him just as much as they hurt you, if not more. He would blame himself, when in reality, it had been a mutual mistake. Either one of you should have recognized the risks of your actions. But you couldn't let him risk his career for it. You could make it through… somehow.

I’m okay, you type, hating that you had to lie. You don’t need to come to London.

I’m already in the air, He informs you, and you curse softly. He would have hell to pay upon returning to Austria, even if he had somehow convinced Tost to let him leave at the last minute.

I'll be there soon

The flight from Vienna to Heathrow was about two and a half hours, which meant you had that long to pull yourself together. You didn’t want Pierre to see you broken. You shower and change into slightly less ragged sweatpants and an oversized shirt. You grab your laptop, quickly emailing your professors to apologize for missing lecture unannounced and informing them you wouldn’t be there the rest of the week either. You'd need time to sort out your head before facing your peers.

Pierre’s knock came far too quickly. You’d barely assembled your face into a mask of resolve before the door opened. Whatever semblance of control you'd managed to construct came crashing down at the sight of him. He looks just as distraught as you, eyes red and cheeks flushed.

Before he says a word, he gathers you in his arms, tucking your head to his chest. Your lip wobbles, and when he whispers “I’m so sorry,” the tears fall in earnest. For less than a week, you’d been on top of the world with Pierre by your side. You’d gotten to enjoy the idea of being his girlfriend for six days before reality stepped in and ruined it.

You clutch at his shirt, fighting hard to piece yourself back together. Now that he was there, the dam had burst and no amount of willpower could keep the sobs back.

Pierre sweeps you up, one arm under your knees and the other keeping you tight to him as he carries you to your bedroom. He climbs into bed, shoes and all, and keeps you in his lap as he strokes your hair. He sniffles, softly enough that you know he's trying to be strong for you. The realization that he's crying too just makes it hurt that much more.

"I'm sorry," He whispers again and again, as if the two syllables were the only ones he remembered. You can't find your voice to tell him you don't blame him or how much his presence means.

Instead, you press your face into the soft cotton of his sweater. He doesn't move except to stroke a calloused hand over your hair. You let his presence wash over you until your breathing turns more even and your fingers stop trembling.

"H-how were you able to leave Austria?" Your voice shakes, but you tilt your head up to face him. He quickly wipes away the wetness on his cheeks with a sleeve.

"I just left. The only one I told was Yuki. He said he'd cover for me. I saw the comments and I couldn't think straight. I didn't want you to believe them." The look he turns on you is an apology. "When I called and it didn't even ring, I had to get to you."

"I don't think you'll be welcomed back with open arms," You point out, and he presses a tender kiss to your brow.

"They can be pissed at me all they want. I don't care. I needed to be here." You wouldn't admit it, but he was right. The fact that he'd risked everything to comfort you helped you ignore what those users had said. Nothing could ever erase the words, but Pierre’s presence dulled their impact.

“I already petitioned for the article to be removed,” Pierre says softly. “Don’t know if it’ll amount to anything, but it’s worth a shot.”

You nod and wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s so much worse than I imagined.” Pierre’s cheek comes to a rest atop your head, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that I’m not the only one that loves you. But it’s like they don’t remember that I’m human.”

“People are bold when they're speaking to a screen instead of another person.”

"It was so much easier before anyone knew," You say, words dipped in longing. Rumors had never swirled when you had kept your distance, you'd made sure of it. But now that the secret was out… Would your life be spent dodging threats and dealing with negativity?

He pauses, thumb stilling. “Do you… Do you want it to go back to the way things were before? When we were... friends?"

Your head whips around. “What?”

“It isn’t fair that you have to go through this because of me,” He explains. “I hate the fact that I’m the one causing you pain. The way you’re being treated is only because I live in the spotlight.”

“It’s not your fault,” You assert, placing a hand on his stubbled cheek. “Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Maybe it would be easier if we-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” You say sternly. You force him to look at you, his eyes storming like the sea. “We’ll figure it out. Our emotions got the best of us last week. We just have to be more careful, keep this behind closed doors. We don’t need to flaunt it, right? Just tell the press that you want to keep your private life private, and I’ll take a break from social media. We can figure it out.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. His voice is scratchy, like he had swallowed gravel. “Alright.”

“It’s us against the world,” You tell him, “And I couldn’t ask for a better teammate.” Your lips ghost against his in an attempt to reassure him. He returns the kiss, firmer and more confident. Your hand slips to the nape of his neck, drawing him in as your tongue glides against his lower lip.

Last week, you’d fucked. But tonight, the sex was something else entirely. It was soft sighs and languid kisses, whispered words of adoration and promises of endless love. Above all, it was an affirmation. Pierre loved you; heart, mind, and soul. In every sense of the word. He would let nothing come between you and himself. Not his career, jealous fans, or the thousands of miles that may sometimes separate you.

Pierre offered you his heart, and you accepted it without question.

**********

The few precious hours Pierre managed to give you were enough to keep you afloat the rest of the week. The break from seemingly endless lectures helped to reset your mind and give you time to focus on yourself.

Pierre called as often as he could, and texted when he couldn’t. You filled him in on the little things you did to keep busy, like how you spent all of Sunday rearranging your tiny apartment so that your bed was as close to his in Austria as you could get it. Monday night, you fell asleep on Facetime with him as you tried and failed to write a term paper for your architectural history class.

Pierre’s visit and subsequent calls had made you feel invincible. But the moment you walk into the lecture hall on Tuesday, everyone’s eyes are on you: the first test of your newly minted confidence. Chin held high, you meet a few of their stares and take your usual seat at the front. The moment you start to question yourself, if you're ready to face the scrutiny, your phone buzzes with a text from Pierre.

Ignore them. Remember that I love you. I’ll call you tonight.

Once again, he somehow knew exactly what you needed to hear. It amazed you that a handful of carefully selected words could grant you so much strength. But it was proof that Pierre recognized and accepted your fears and was willing to help you work through them.

You take a breath, letting the whispers of your classmates fade until they were nothing more than a faint hum. You turn your focus on the professor as she enters, falling into your usual cadence. Easy. You could ignore the gossip until they got tired of it and left you alone. Their fascination couldn’t last more than a few days.

You made it through the rest of your classes and walked home without incident. No one ran up to you and demanded you explain your relationship with Pierre. Your worst fears had been abated. The stress of it rolls off your shoulders when you make it to your apartment. It was already 7 o’clock, but Pierre hadn’t called yet. Seeing as Austria was an hour ahead, you weren’t sure he would hold to his earlier promise.

Your stomach growls, and you leave your bag next to your bed before heading to the kitchen. Dinner was a box of macaroni and cheese, simple but delicious. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at your phone every few minutes, hoping to see Pierre’s name on the screen.

Coming to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be getting a call, you settle into your favorite chair and crack open your laptop. Term papers didn't write themselves, and you still had a few thousand words to write. You lost yourself in theories and articles for a few hours before your phone breaks your concentration.

You awake?

A smile splits your face. Yeah. Working on this never ending term paper.

I'll leave you to it. Love you, sleep tight.

You laugh quietly. You agree with his 'school first' mentality most of the time, but there were exceptions to every rule. You call him, heart stuttering when he answers.

"You're supposed to be writing."

"Well, nice to hear your voice too," You say playfully. "It was boring me anyway. Who wants to read twenty pages comparing Roman and Greek columns anyway?"

"I'm pretty sure your professor does," He says with a laugh that warms your bones. If only he were standing in front of you so you could feel his chest rumble beneath your fingertips. Wanting to see his face, you switch to a video call.

"I was wondering how long that would take," He teases, smile wide and welcoming.

"I miss you," You say softly, padding to your bed. You'd accomplished enough that you could push off writing more until tomorrow. "I wish I could come to Japan this weekend."

"Me too, my love," He responds, voice tinged with longing. "It's one of the more challenging circuits on the calendar. And you've always wanted to visit Tokyo."

You weren't surprised that he remembered that silly dream of yours. "Send me something that reminds me of you." You flick off the lights before climbing under the covers, pulling them up to your chin. "Something cute and sweet."

"I fly out tomorrow night to meet Charles. I should have some extra time to do some window shopping."

"You and Charles going on a date?" You tease, propping your head on a hand. Now that you were cozy, it was hard to keep your eyes open.

He shakes his head. "He's been… helping me with the press. Tackling it all."

"Oh." The mood sours. You decide not to dwell on it, turning to humor instead. "Give him a kiss for me as a thank you."

"He would love that," Pierre laughs. Comfortable silence blankets you, broken only by Pierre humming softly. It was a song you recognize as one of his favorites; it must have been stuck in his head.

"What time do I have to wake up on Sunday?" You mumble, struggling to stay awake while he was unknowingly serenading you.

"Do you want to watch the prerace stuff?" Papers shuffle softly on the other end as he figures it out for you. "If you do, probably like 3:30. If not, the race would be at five your time, so maybe 4:30."

"That's early. You're lucky I love you enough to sacrifice my beauty sleep."

He didn't hesitate before responding. "Luckily you don't need sleep to be beautiful."

Your mouth curls in a sleepy smile. "When you say things like that, I hate the distance between us even more."

Pierre scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't have a break for another month or so."

"I know."

Silence falls again, both of you lost in your own heads.

"You should sleep," He says finally, and you nod. Your first class was only 6 hours from now. "I'll sing to you if you promise to close your eyes and try to sleep."

Despite your best efforts, you yawn. You often called him for a song when you couldn't sleep and the time difference permitted it. Just hearing his voice was soothing enough, but a song? It was heaven. "Shouldn't be hard to do." Sleep came within minutes, Pierre's soft song your lullaby.

Tagging: @flashcal @sunshinesewis

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years

Text

TLC

A/N: Sorry not sorry about the length.

Main Masterlist

Pairing: Chubby! Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut, a little angst, but so much fluff!

Word count: 1900ish

Thor Taglist: @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @marvelgirl7 @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias

Tags open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these lists :))

The events of the snap had affected everyone. Some more severely than the others. Millions had lost families, some mourned the loss of those who sacrificed their lives in the battle, others simply dusted away into oblivion with no signs of returning.

Your ex demi-God boyfriend took it the hardest. His downfall had begun when he took the entire blame of failing to stop the Mad Titan during the battle of Wakanda. His family, his support system was lost long before but he’d still managed to look at the bright side. It was you that he held onto when the times were tough.

Thanos wiped out half of the population along with every last strand of hope Thor had left to believe in himself. After that, he had pushed everyone away, wallowed in self-pity no matter how much he denied and pretended he was just taking a break. He pushed you away too, now that there wasn’t a point to anything he thought it best to set you free, free from the pain he’d put you through over the years, free to lead your life without him.

There came a time when Thor had been down in the dumps, drinking & wasting his life away, you received a call from Brunnhilde from New Asgard, asking for help.

As heart-broken as you were, there was still a part of you that cared about Thor, the part that loved him without knowing his whereabouts before the call, the part that made your hopeless heart beat a little faster every time there was some news regarding your fellow Avengers, or a knock on your door. That part in you made you book a plane ticket to Norway in search of your Thunder God.

New Asgard was beautiful, brave Asgardians had rebuilt their lives after losing their home planet. Upon meeting Valkyrie, you learnt that there was a brawl in the local pub initiated by none other than the person who’d come looking for. The damage was severe given the reason for the fight. He’d been denied more alcohol that led to several tables being destroyed and the owner of the pub sporting several bruises to his face.

“He’s not our King, not anymore.”

“That man has lost his way, who wants that in a leader?”

The Asgardians held more anger towards their King that you’d ever known. You understood their side, you did but, you also knew what made him act the way he did. And you had made up your mind to fix it.

The walk to Thor’s cottage was short, the door was left ajar & your nostrils were filled with a stench of old beer and something vile as you entered.

The place was a mess to say the least, old take-out boxes strewn about, clothes and shoes that hid furniture pieces under them, the Stormbreaker resting against the fireplace. There was a groan from upstairs indicating the location of the Asgardian God.

“Are you here with my barrels?” He called out, speech slurred and muffled as it reached you.

“No actually I’m here to restore a former King who has lost his way.”

Your voice made him freeze, he hadn’t heard you in two years, a voice that once filled his heart with joy and love, and the face that once made him so happy. As you pushed the bedroom door open, you saw his eyes meet yours for a second before he turned away to stare out the window.

“Why are you here? I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

It broke your heart to see his eyes not light up the way they used to upon seeing you, it pained you that he didn’t reach to pull you in his arms and spin you around like he used to.

“I think you do. The old Thor would be delighted to see me, he would make sure the world would melt away when he’d kiss me, the old Thor w—”

“The old Thor is dead. If you came looking for him, I’m sorry but he is long gone.” He replied harshly, still not facing you as he shoulders sagged and you heard him sniffle after some moments of silence.

You stepped closer and cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder coaxing him to look at you. He moved but his eyes were downcast before you grabbed his face in your hands and were met with his mismatched eyes swimming with unshed tears, once well groomed face now a scruffy mess of overgrown beard and unkempt blonde locks.

“Don’t you ever tell me that the old Thor is dead. I know he’s still in there, he’s just hiding beneath this defensive, hurt, slightly sloppy exterior.”

He gave you a watery chuckle, before wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. You took his hand and led him to the bathroom where you began filling water in the bathtub.

“I have missed you (Y/N).” Thor spoke as followed you back out where you removed your jacket.

“I know.” You nodded towards his bedside table that held a picture of you and him taken by Natasha back at the compound when you had fallen asleep on top of him after a mission on the couch. You remembered wondering who had stolen your copy after you thought you misplaced it years ago.

Thor remained clothed as the water filled the tub, eyes downcast again.

“I’m not how I used to be.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

Giving him a reassuring smile, you helped him undress, noticing how self-conscious this man got. You thought of something he’d done when you had your moments of insecurity back when you started dating the Avenger.

Closing the bathroom door, you undressed as well, revealing your curves, battle scars and everything Thor was once so familiar with and had made you believe just how beautiful you were. Now it was your turn to do the same for him.

“What are you doing? Y-you don’t have to—”

“I’m reminding you how secure and loved you made me feel when I was having trouble believing it for myself.”

“You have always been beautiful to me. You always will be.” He said with such surety, almost proudly as if there wasn’t a breakup that had left you both miserable.

You made Thor sit in the tub with his head leaned back for you to clean and he obliged, holding onto your hand the entire time in case he’d been dreaming this entire time & that you would vanish into thin air.

A soft kiss to his forehead later you began working your fingers through his hair, trying to get all the accumulated dirt out. It wasn’t long before Thor’s breath became uneven and he held back tears once more.

“Thor it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ve let you down. I’ve let everyone down. I failed at protecting everyone from him.”

“You didn’t fail Thor and you certainly didn’t let anyone down. You’ve lost more than any one of us can ever imagine, you were grieving. You are allowed to grieve. You know what this means. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“But I’m not supposed to be like the rest of you.” He sniffed, holding onto your arms as dry heaves racked his large frame.

“Everyone fails at who they’re supposed to be Thor. It’s okay to mourn, it’s not okay to let yourself be lost in that feeling forever. You lost all of your family but you kept fighting didn’t you? Well the fight’s not over just because he won. We fight everyday, some days harder than others, no matter how difficult it may seem because we owe it to the people we lost.”

You kept rubbing his back while he calmed down, pressing as many kisses to the side of head as you could given the awkward position you were in.

“You were my family (Y/N) and I pushed you away. You didn’t deserve it a-and I’m so so—”

“I don’t blame you, I never did. I still love you Thor, very much. Nothing will ever change that.” You smiled, touching your forehead to his.

“I love you too my beautiful dove.”

He pressed his lips to yours, the kiss a little different from the ones you were used to. He tasted of beer but it didn’t matter, it was still your beloved God of Thunder. The kiss turned hungry when his hands went to the back of your neck to pull you closer while the other went around your naked back, coaxing you into the tub.

Water splashed about and spilled over as you stepped in, straddling his lap before resuming, this time your tongue ran along his bristly lip, biting softly, relishing in the feeling of him again after such a long time.

Thor moved on to pepper your jaw and neck with hurried kisses while his hands roamed over your body, having missed feeling your skin against his, the way your body moulded perfectly against him. He had missed the way you shuddered as his teeth grazed the junction between your neck and shoulder, the way you moaned when he marked a spot there, claiming you as his. He missed the way your breasts felt against his palm, the way your nipples hardened under his touch.

“I’ve missed you so much.”

Thor mumbled between wet kisses against your chest while you pushed his face closer with your hands, wanting to feel as much of him as possible against your skin, a loud gasp emitting from your lips when he rolled his tongue around your nipple before sucking.

Your hips slid against his crotch, desperate for more friction, his shaft rubbing against your folds earning a groan from Thor who suddenly moved your hips, angling you to hover over his erect cock before slowly letting you sink down on him.

The stretch stung a little given how long it had been, though your warmth welcomed him as you held him close, that familiar feeling of being one with Thor returning after a long gap. He buried his face in your neck, soft hands holding your back securely, leaving no space between your bodies as the only sound echoed in the room was of warm water lapping against the sides of the tub and your mingled breaths.

“My love...”

“I’m here.”

You rolled your hips slowly, savouring the feeling of him snug inside you before the need to chase your releases became vital and you both moved in tandem before your end washed over, leaving you writhing in pleasure in Thor’s arms while he held you. Your orgasm triggered his own as he grabbed your hips and began thrusting into you, sending new waves of pleasure coursing through your system.

A few moments after returning to your senses, you realised the water had gone cold & it was time to get out before your skin started pruning but neither of you made any effort of doing so.

“Thank you love.”

“For what?”

“Saving me.”

“You would’ve done it for me.”

“We have to get out some time you know.” You chuckled, lazily drawing patterns on his soft back while he placed kisses repeatedly on your shoulder.

“I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

#thor odinson x reader #thor odinson smut #chubby thor #post endgame #thor fanfiction #thor x y/n #thor angst #thor odinson #thor odinson oneshot #marvel fanfiction #thor mcu #thor odinson fanfiction

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jackson--t · 3 years

Text

🎃 Spooktober 🎃

Bloody Boneless - Pt. I

Welcome to my favourite time of the year and my month of spooky stuff! I will create some short spooky stories - if you want to join me, feel free to tag me! 🎃

Summary: Heahmund talks about old sagas and legends in his classes - and tries one game out for himself at home. With a frightening result that makes his blood run cold...

Words: 2.6 k (AO3? Here.)

Spooky Friends (so far): @youbloodymadgenius @jadelynlace (if you want to be tagged, feel free to send me a DM or stuff!) 🖤

Heahmund looked around at his students and grinned a little; his bright eyes wandered over the curious eyes of the teens, who were all talking; some were already coming forward to share their ideas and stories.

It was October, and it wasn't long until Halloween; Heahmund had specifically chosen the last history lessons to get into a little spooky subject matter, about ghosts and folklore, about old tales and myths, and things you'd tell yourself if you wanted to scare someone. Outside, the rain pattered against the window, and the class had been decked out in autumnal red for several weeks, decorated with collected leaves and chestnuts. Heahmund grinned for a moment, then pointed to a student.

"Anna?"

"When I was a child, my mother told me that witches could be found in many bushes and along roadsides. We had a bush in our backyard back then, and it was so opaque that you could only ever make out black structures that looked so spooky..."

"And you must have been afraid of it?" Heahmund said, and Anna nodded.

"Who knows any more sagas? Does anyone maybe know games that involve old Halloween traditions?" Heahmund asked to the group, and several students came forward.

"Tim."

"My big sister once got a Ouija board with her friends on Halloween, and they... tried to call a dead friend through the board. They've never touched it since. She told me things moved around the room and the lights suddenly went out," Tim recounted; several girls in the room looked at each other aghast and began whispering excitedly, while Heahmund pressed his lower back against the desk.

"Stories like that scare you, of course, but it can also be fantasy. There are so many ancient legends and customs that, because of their history, already grasp the origins of fear. For example, the superstition that you should never look in the mirror at the stroke of midnight," he explained, and the teenagers fell silent; they looked at their history teacher intently.

"Why not?" Irina asked, and Heahmund grinned slightly.

"They say it makes you see your inner monster, or your inner witch. There are various games you can try in the dark, but they mostly play with your seventh sense, or simply your perception. The basic idea of fear plays a central role in this. Does anyone know of anything else?"

It took a moment, but then suddenly, quite hesitantly, a finger lifted from the back row; Heahmund's eyes met the shy Natalie, who always spoke very little, even though she had good grades. The others did not like her so much; however, to Heahmund she was a nice girl who was just a little quiet. He nodded to her with a smile; she looked around shyly, then said softly, "You told us once about the Vikings, and about their age. I know a saga about it."

Heahmund raised his eyebrows; he had always loved the subject of Vikings and didn't even know until now that there were customs here, too - or at least ghost stories that the young people told each other. "Really? Ah, very nice! Of course, when someone includes real history, it's always exciting. Tell us more, Nathalie!"

Nathalie hesitated for a moment; her fingers buried in her sweater.

"You told us about Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons back then. And I know a... legend. It says that at the stroke of midnight you are supposed to stand in front of the mirror, and if you... well, if you say Bloody Boneless three times, the Viking tyrant Ivar the Boneless will appear in the mirror."

Heahmund felt a slight chill run down his spine; he had gone over the subject very carefully with the students, and he was fascinated by how much had stuck with her; he looked at her for a moment, then asked, "Have you ever tried it?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, I wouldn't do it either. The stories about him are too scary for me."

"With Bloody Mary, after all, the legend goes much the same way, except she pokes your eyes out. What do you think Ivar the Boneless does, Nathalie?" Heahmund said; the class watched intently as Nathalie bit her lower lip softly.

"They say that he... that he kills you. With an object he finds on you." she whispered; for a moment, icy chills ran through the class, and the abrupt ringing of the bell elicited a cry from some; Heahmund laughed.

"All's well, we'll see each other again on Wednesday. Until then, please read up on the customs about the Salem Witches' Night and do assignment 10 on it."

Heahmund waited until the class was completely empty; he smiled at the students, then scratched his chin lightly. Ghost stories, what nonsense. Of course, he knew none of these things were true; even though he loved seeing the shocked faces of the teenagers.

Bloody Boneless, what a nonsense....

§---§---§

It was late in the evening when Heahmund stood in front of the mirror in his bathroom; for a moment he looked at his dark hair, and then got his toothbrush ready. The clock on his shelf showed just before midnight; so, he still had some time.

Something on the back of his neck prickled as he brushed his teeth and walked slowly up and down the hallway; the rain was still casting gloomy shadowy shapes on the windows in his house, and the wind was clearly audible. If he wasn't mistaken, he had also heard a thunderstorm coming from a safe distance - a terribly cozy autumn night that he was about to end with a good book in his bed. Yet he still carried his student's words from today in his ear; that strange story about Ivar the Boneless.

Heahmund had devoted much of his studies to the Viking field, and it was still his favorite part of history. Perhaps he could joke with the children and pretend that the story about the mirror was true. He was sure that the teenagers - at least a couple of them - would not be able to sleep for nights if Heahmund continued Nathalie's story. He grunted softly in amusement before standing back in the bathroom and washing out his mouth.

When he lifted his head, the clock read 11:59 p.m., and Heahmund fixed his bright eyes on the mirror; his own reflection was staring back at him, albeit still with a somewhat wet beard. As the digital clock read midnight, Heahmund exhaled deeply. His hands clawed tightly into the porcelain of the basin, and he said softly in his deep voice:

"Bloody Boneless."

Once, and the rain whipped harder against the window; it was nothing unusual, for the storm had been predicted. Heahmund snorted softly; he felt a little crazy and silly, but he took another breath and said:

"Bloody Boneless."

Far away in the dark of the night there was a low rumbling; but the storm was still too far away for Heahmund to hear it clearly. Nothing happened; Heahmund grinned slightly at his own image in the mirror, and then quietly muttered a third:

"Bloody Boneless."

It happened all of a sudden; the lights in the bathroom began to flicker all at once, and with a ripping thunderclap, it abruptly went dark; just once, the light of the bathroom mirror still flickered on, causing Heahmund to let out a scream.

For a millisecond, the gruesomely contorted face of an angry young man had appeared in it, that undoubtedly belonged to Ivar the Boneless. But the lights came back on, and Heahmund stared perplexedly into the mirror; his hands trembled, and he wore white marks on his knuckles, so tightly had he clutched at the basin. When his bright eyes fell on the mirror again, he could see only his own face in it. No trace of that grimace.

Heahmund exhaled deeply and ran his hand over his forehead, shivering slightly; it was just as he himself had said in his lessons: the brain knew it was seeing something, and imagined it. The thunder had been a coincidence, of course, and had contributed to that brief anxiety -but it had been a horrible experience.

"Amazing, a brain like that.", Heahmund muttered to himself, slightly breathless, before turning off the bathroom light and turning towards the hallway. Just for a brief moment, for the fragile blink of an eye, he imagined that he saw a black, crooked shadow in the mirror that clearly could not belong to him. But it could just have been the shower curtain.

Heahmund hurried to get to the bedroom; the mirrors in the hallway suddenly didn't seem so trustworthy, especially since a bright flash additionally illuminated the hallway. Heahmund had never really been the fearful type; never. He didn't believe in ghosts and stories; he believed in the measurable reality of people. But this experience had given even him a deep goose bump on the back of his neck that he couldn't shake off. When he arrived in the bedroom, he closed the door behind him; the hallway was silent, however, as he took one last look inside before turning out the light there as well.

He had another mirror in the bedroom that he had a good view of; normally he loved it, especially for certain evenings; but now a strange feeling came over him. He looked at the mirror slightly critically, and yet decided against taking it down - he wasn't that anxious now. Everything was explainable, really everything. The blackout, the flickering, even his hallucination. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of.

He turned on the small light on his nightstand and leaned back against the end of the bed; he covered himself lightly and began reading his book. He loved this atmosphere while reading; there was a storm outside, and he was inside with a book in a warm bed, and he didn't even have to get up early tomorrow, since he didn't have class until the last period. He enjoyed such evenings very much; only sometimes he felt lonely.

The house was only blanketed by the sound of rain and thunderstorms; however, as Heahmund was turning a page, his eyes caught something out of the corner of his eye. It was a dark movement, a quick, barely visible movement, but it shot up the back of Heahmund's neck so quickly and tinglingly that he could not have imagined it.

His gaze went up to the mirror; it was still standing there motionless, and nothing but the room was reflected in it; this weather was playing tricks on his eyes, he was sure of it. And those damn children's stories. He shouldn't have done that shit with the mirror.

Heahmund averted his eyes again; he continued to read in silence when suddenly he heard an unfamiliar noise - it sounded like something hitting the ground sharp and hard, like some kind of knife or axe; but it was almost too heavy for that. Heahmund raised his head and stared around the room, but he could see nothing; yet he could have sworn that this strange sound had come directly from his room. He wrinkled his nose slightly; the sound appeared again, only this time it was ten times louder. And it was almost as if a dark shadow was creeping out from under the doorframe....

Heahmund jumped out of bed. Maybe it was a burglar! He went towards the door, saw exactly the strange shadows on the wooden floor, which looked as if someone with crutch was standing in front of the door - his neck tingled wildly, and he suppressed the fantasy in his head - when with a sudden movement he tore open the door.

"Ha!" he cried; but there was no one in the hall. Heahmund stared open-mouthed into the hallway, and then at the floor - the shadow was gone. He took a deep breath in and out, as he closed the door behind him with a soft sound. He needed to calm down, his imagination was starting to run away with him. It was nothing more than a scary fairy tale that teenagers told each other at their Halloween parties.

When he turned around, however, his body suddenly froze.

He couldn't move an inch even if he wanted to; his muscles seemed frozen, frozen like an icy body in deepest winter. His mouth was slightly open, and yet neither words nor air came out to breathe; for his bright eyes fell on the mirror.

There, in jet-black leather armor, leaning on a pointed, metal crutch, stood a young man with the brightest, bluest eyes Heahmund had ever encountered. He simply stood there in the mirror, no one in front of it, staring motionless in Heahmund's direction; his dark hair was braided in Viking splendor, and his face revealed that he had been through a lot; a small but legendary scar adorned the young man's face.

It took a while for Heahmund's body to release its rigidity; he took a deep shocked breath, and stared in disbelief at the image in the mirror. It was as if frozen; the young Viking in it did not move a bit, but only stared stubbornly in Heahmund's direction. It looked like a statue; Heahmund dared to come a little closer and walked with slow steps towards the large mirror.

A flash of lightning lit up the room, and the rumble of thunder gave the whole thing an impossibly creepy atmosphere. Although Heahmund's body was wrapped in icy cold and thick goose bumps, he walked forward until he was standing right in front of the mirror; the young man was a little shorter than him and stood slightly bent over by his crutch. But he did not move, not even when Heahmund touched the cold pane of the mirror with a slight swallow.

"You're not real. This isn't real. I'm dreaming.", Heahmund muttered darkly; the mirror felt normal, and nothing moved except for the flashes in the background.

It had to be a bad joke. Maybe someone had traded his mirror for a TV? Maybe this was a show? Those damn kids...

Heahmund hissed softly as he looked around the room; but he could see no cameras in the corners, and no feet or anything behind the curtains. There was nothing there...

He turned his gaze back to the mirror; still the young man stood there, but his eyes had changed direction. They were staring Heahmund right in the face now, and Heahmund had to swallow hard against his own horrible fear. He took his fingers away from the cool glass, and stared at the Viking as well.

"You are not real, Ivar the Boneless," Heahmund said darkly.

And suddenly, with the bright light of a flash of lightning and the cruel, violent thunder of the thunderstorm close by, he moved; the face moved jerkily, and his jaw cracked slightly before bright white teeth showed, looking almost like sharp knives in the flash of the thunderstorm; the corners of the young man's mouth lifted, and the bright eyes stared at him like the devil's face made flesh.

„dauði, Kristr.“ A high-pitched, strangely soft, yet scratchy voice shattered the silence of the bedroom, mixed with cruel cracking sounds; and Heahmund froze to ice again.

He took a shaking step back, but his eyes caught perfectly how the pointed end of the crutch pressed against the mirror from inside, and a thousand shards suddenly pattered on the floor; and with a firm and sweeping pulling motion, Ivar the Boneless pulled himself out of the mirror, incarnate.

„dauði, Kristr.“ - "Die, Christian." (correct me if it's wrong!)

#vikings #ivar the boneless #fanfic #ivar lothbrok #spooktober #spooky #heahmund

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

Text

Surprising Finds

Summary- 1.7k. Ransom Drysdale x You. Bucky Barnes x You. Ransom said you could do whatever you want. So you decided you wanted to go antiquing much to his dismay. Warnings- probably a word or two. But honestly its fluff. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

A/N- I found out @sagechanoafterdark‘s birthday is coming up. As its a surprise, I didn't ask but I did take some inspiration from her personal series Held For Ransom and All Good Things. Both fantastic series and should be checked out. I hope you have a wonderful day Sage and thank you for reading all my rambles in your DM’s.

Ransom perched his sunglasses on the end of his nose as he peered over the frames to the quaint storefront you had him stop at. There was a couple tables displaying some nice dishes and other kitchen appliances, above them in the awning were hanging baskets of morning glories lifting to the morning sunlight and giving the whole store a welcoming feeling. “Here? This is where you wanted to stop Y/N? It looks abandoned.”

You were digging in your purse and pulling out a few bills to stuff in your pocket before pushing your bag to the floorboard and under the passenger side car seat. “It does not look abandoned. There is an open sign right in the door.”

“Is that even a legit sign? It looks like something someone plastered it there to draw in unsuspecting tourists so they can trap them and torture them. There is a Saks just another hour away we will be passing. You can find whatever you want there.” He tried reasoning with you, about to turn the car back on when you reached over and slipped the keys from the ignition and smirked at him.

“Nice try Ransom, but today was about what I wanted to do.” You slipped out of the car, leaving him there huffing at you and pushing his sunglasses back up his nose and following you. He did agree this morning to those terms. Of course you might have coerced him with playful kisses on his chest while straddling him, giving him the look.

That look.

The cursed look you could pull off whenever you caught him off guard. Fuck it Drysdale, you should have known better.

“Well if I had known you were going to drag me to the middle of some bum fuck town in the middle of nowhere to look at other people's junk, I would have planned out a trip for us instead.” He complained in a slightly accusing tone as you shrugged while pushing open the door with some effort, blinking in the sudden dim lighting that accompanied antique stores typically.

“Stay in the car then Hugh, you can't ruin this for me.” Almost flippant sounding, not caring. Oh that tone could drive him nuts.

“Don't call me that.” he snapped.

“Then quit acting like I'm forcing you to come with me against your will.” You shot back with a smirk, knowing that you could so easily get under his skin. Peering around now that your eyes adjusted. So far no one had come from the counter to greet them, so you just wandered into the building. Ransom was not far behind, picking up random things and rolling it in his hands before setting them back down. You hummed happily while lifting box covers and pulling out old records, reading titles and sifting through a few piles of magazines and books littering the shelves. “See, it's not so bad.”

Ransom, who was currently glancing in a glass case with some fine gold jewelry and coins yanked his sunglasses off and perched them atop his head. “It's okay, but it's still full of junk.” He made a pointed glance at a gaudy relic of a mime painting leaning against a wall.

“Sure, you have to seek out the treasures in here.” You countered while sidling up towards him, loping your arm around his waist while looking in the case before moving towards the painting he had so adamantly pointed out. “What do you say, we could always gift this to Linda?” You teased and Ransom moved beyond the glass case to stand in front of it, laughing.

“Are you saying my mother would enjoy that?” Ransom quirked a brow as you made a move to stand a bit away, holding it out at arms length and making you giggle.

“Hell I know she would hate it, but how funny would it be to see her attempt to say thank you while we are offering to hang it on her wall?”

“She wouldn't even try. She would flat out say hell no.” Ransom shook his head and pulled out the painting behind it, grimacing at the next one. Some portrait of a man, looking stoic in the portrait, it actually reminded Ransom of his Harlen's portrait that he was sure Marta still had hanging in memory of his grandfather. “Besides, it's probably haunted or some shit.”

You were about to point out why it was an even better gift then to torture Linda with when a male’s voice interrupted them. You both turned at the same time to see someone come out the back room.

Coffee colored hair framed around a warm face, dog tags bouncing off his chest as he grunted with effort dropping off a heavy looking box behind the cash register. “I can assure you it is not haunted. Not that piece at least.” The man brushed the dust off his hands as he came around to greet them. “But I'm afraid I can't tell you the story behind it. I'm just helping today. The store owner happens to be at an estate sale. But anything you have an interest in, I can have her call you. My name is Bucky, if you need any other kind of help.” He smiled warmly, holding his hand out which you shook, then Ransom afterwards, introducing yourselves as well.

You had to admit he had caught you by surprise. Your breath hitched a bit and you felt Ransom stiffen next to you, having heard it as well. “We are just here to look around, not for anything in particular. But thanks for the offer.” You mention while Ransom wraps an arm over your shoulder, you could feel him posturing slightly, a puff to his chest, a rumble of a “We are fine, thanks.”

Bucky retreated back to his project after you two moved away further into the store, looking over old knick knacks and vases that you had an interest in. Ransom loosened up once you two were alone again.

“What was that about?” You asked while moving to a clothes rack, picking up an extravagant hat and perching it on your head.

“What was what about?” he asked, grabbing a scarf and draping it around your neck, pulling you closer. A signature smirk on perfect pink lips upturned slightly. “You look dashing by the way.”

You narrow your gaze as he drops his head to nip at your lips, pressing your hands to firm pecs under his shirt. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” you whispered while he continued to tease you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled away.

“I heard that gasp of yours.” He pulled the scarf off while you did the same with the hat, moving into another section of the store. “You think he’s cute.”

You paw through some random box of items, picking through mugs and utensils. “So what if I did?”

Ransom curled the tip of his nose at your response and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, seeing a moment of self doubt that you knew he dealt with, although you two have brushed on the subject a few times, you knew it lingered. You roll your eyes to yourself with a half smile and turn back to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Sure hes cute, but does he drive me insane and fuck me so good I’m screaming his name? Or bring me my morning coffee in bed? Do I wear his favorite sweater around the house to tease him? That's a hell no, only you get that Ransom.”

“You are a menace.” Ransom shook his head, that doubt melting from his eyes and turning sharp again with your statement.

“Hell, calling the kettle black their Drysdale.” You grin while taking his hand and leading him to the next table. Ransom was about to follow when he pulled up short, picking up a decanter made from cut crystal.

“Okay this I want.” He let go of your hand, admiring the rest of the set. You folded your arms over your chest, smirking at him.

“See, complain the whole time and look who’s the first one to find something they just had to have.”

You stood at your kitchen counter mixing together some dried tea leaves to pack into a tea ball when you felt a pair of arms circle around your waist and a broad chest press against your back. “Welcome home Doll.” came the Brooklyn accent that made you smile, looking over your shoulder with a quick peck to his lips.

“It's good to be back. I got some really nice items so that once they are cleaned up they will look excellent displayed in the front there. Did you have any customers?” You turned back to your tea, dipping it in a cup and pouring the steaming water over it. Soon the calming aroma of lavender wafted over you two while Bucky and you retreated towards the living room. He settled first and you curled into his side.

His fingers smoothed along your thigh while he recounted the day to you. A few small sales, some of the vintage dresses that so many loved finding in good condition, a rather nice dresser you had hoped would find a good home and collectible teddy bears that you guessed would go quickly.

“... then a younger couple came in. They had a whole mess of stuff they took with them. That decanter set you had laying around went. And the woman found herself a “I’m The Boss” mug she insisted on much to his dismay.” Bucky chuckled softly recalling the expressions. “They were looking at the paintings in the corner. Assuming that mime one was haunted, it is kind of creepy.”

You giggled while sipping your tea. “It is, I hate that thing, but people are really into that shit. Good thing they didn't take that one behind it. That one actually does have a spirit attached to it.”

“The old man portrait?”

You nodded while tugging a blanket off the back of the couch and cuddling into it, wrapping the two of you up while reaching for the remote. “Oh yes, he's been with that thing for years. Harmless really, you can catch him when you smell cigar smoke. He just likes to hang out. I offered to move him on, but he insists he's happy right where he is.”

Bucky was quiet a moment and tugged you in closer. “I can understand that.”

#amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale au #bucky barnes au #happy birthday #knives out au

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kenmasgameboy · 3 years

Text

chapter 18: my girlfriend.

previous…next

masterlist

kuroo tetsurou came into y/n’s life when she needed him to fuck it up the most.

a/n: this chapter is an intense one, i put the trigger warnings that i could think of below. if i ever miss anything please feel free to send me a dm or an ask, i’m also always looking forward to your guys’ comments and asks, please don’t forget that i always read them. i want this to be a safe place for everyone :)

trigger warning: bullying, cursing/vulgar language, and violence (smacking, stepping and spitting). anxiety.

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Your book is dripping wet, the pages turned to a fragile paste and falling apart at the touch. Your hair was wet, buckets of water had been prepared just for you. In your honor, four older girls had decided to go out of their way to prepare a bucket of water to dump all over your head.

“What did we tell you?” Their leader, Yui, kicked you in the stomach. “I thought we were very clear yesterday that you cannot talk to Kuroo-san.”

“And then you walked home with him!” One of the other girls spoke, but at this point their voices meshed together in your head. You tried staring at a paint chip on the ground to try and keep your cool.

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

Your face was pulled off the rough pavement to face Yui’s face by your hair. The beautiful girl holds a fistfuls of your hair and you can get a good look at her this way. She really was gorgeous, she had long hair that was dyed a beautiful blond. You could hardly tell her bright blue contacts weren’t real since they fit into her soft features so well. Her makeup was nothing short of flawless, blending perfectly into her skin that made her look effortlessly beautiful. She looked like an idol, an angel in stood front of you, it was a striking contrast to her harsh words she’s given you over the last week.

“And now he posted about you, too! I told you that Kuroo-kun was mine. I should’ve said something weeks ago when I saw him talk to you here.” Yui stomped her foot, “Don’t you dare lie either, I saw him at your shoe locker this morning.”

“I’m not going to lie.” You said, your voice coming out much quieter than you thought. It was cold outside, and your clothes were wet. You didn’t even want to think about your white shirt.

“Good girl.” Yui smiled, “Now let’s talk about arrangements. Since you obviously didn’t listen yesterday. And I’m what they’d call Kuroo-kun’s guardian angel. I’ve always protected him from skanky bitches like you, who aren’t interested in Kuroo-kun for anything beyond what he can do for you. It’s not my first time, and it won’t be my last either. I love Kuroo-kun more than any of you and I’ve been at this a lot longer than you.”

What the hell is wrong with you?

You were cursing at her in your head, every bit of anger poured from your veins and forced you to clench your fist. This girl was pissing you off to no end, nobody was around at this point. Your fear of shyness being easily overwhelmed by the anger of being controlled.

A part of you selfishly wished that Inuoka or Kuroo would enter this scene right now and intervene. But they couldn’t fix this for you. They weren’t always going to be with you. And you weren’t someone who was going to be smacked around by these girls anymore. This girl must’ve been the one that started those rumors about you that forced Kuroo to intervene for you. You didn’t want anyone to have to do that for you.

“Kuroo-san would never like a girl like you.” You said. You would be proud to know your face never wavered as you spoke. Your voice had only a slight shake, the only tell being the shakes of your hand. Every word granted you a half ounce more of confidence.

“Do you want to say that again, dog?” She stepped on your hand with her foot, all her spite being aimed at you.

“What? I told you I wasn’t going to lie.” You kept your face plain. She spit in it and threw you down. You wiped the disgusting vile away with the back of your hand.

“Keep talking! See what happens.” This was a bet you’re willing to take.

“You’re a very pretty girl. But you’re mean, petty, vengeful, controlling and most of all an idiot if you think I can control how Kuroo-san feels. It’s not my fault he likes me. And if you really liked him, you should want him to be happy, but instead you try to block him off from anything that’d do that.” You said it all while she hardly listened, yawning as you spoke.

“Are you done?” She asked, you groaned in response. God she was so annoying.

She smacked you.

“You’re going to act like you know him after a few weeks? I’ve been in love with him for three years. He always has doted on me before you got here, he tutored me, gave me parts of his lunch, and he even gave me his jacket when I forgot my umbrella. Every third year girl knows that he’s mine. He’s too mature for younger girls like you, especially ones with their head in the clouds and nose in a book. You don’t even interact with anyone! What’s so good about you! Nothing! So don’t you dare try to act like you’re better than me!” She said her own speech, ending it with pushing her foot down on your thigh. Your knee scratching against the pavement.

“Kuroo-san isn’t a thing you can own..” It was taking everything in you not to cry, you’ve always had a hard time when people yell at you. But the part of you that wanted to defy authority was still winning at the moment.

“God! You’re so annoying. Just listen to me and break up with him so he can love me already! I’m tired of waiting!” Yui was yelling, you were starting to hear voices in the windows behind you crowding over. Your eyes drifted down, your shirt was totally see-through. This was so embarrassing.

You put your arms over your chest to protect yourself. You scolded yourself for not bringing out your jacket.

“No.” You said, strong and out-front.

“I think this is the most this girl has ever spoken..”

“Normally she’s such a crybaby..”

You heard everything anyone was saying around you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. None of those people knew you.

“You insolent little bitch–”

“Oh? Big word there, did that make you feel like an adult? You read that one in a book?” You were completely unfiltered at this point. None of it mattered to you. Your clothes were wet, your hair was frazzled, your knees scraped and your face spit on. If there was one thing you could do to protect yourself it was your mouth. You had to.

“Shut up! Be thankful your senpai hasn’t ruined your life. Just let him go! You don’t even like him!” She was really fuming, there may as well be smoke coming out of her ears. “I can tell you’re scared, just agree so we can finish this.”

“That’s not true.” You said, your face blushing as the first sign of emotion this whole time.

“Oh, look, she’s blushing.”

“She’s actually so cute.”

“Gah! I hate you!” Yui raises her hand again, the only interruption being the heavy metal door to the courtyard being opened.

“Stop, stop! Yui, what the fuck are you doing!?” Kuroo, the man of the hour, ran into the courtyard and immediately stripping his blazer off.

“Kuroo-kun! I’m so glad your here, she was being so mean to us! I was just–” It was Yui’s turn to panic. Her voice quivered as she quickly mustered up tears to fake.

“You think I’m going to believe that when she looks like this?” Kuroo quickly wrapped you in his blazer, the large fabric covering you. His warmth flew threw you as he helped you to your feet and held you into his chest protectively. Your cold skin stealing Kuroo’s warmth. You hadn’t really realized how cold you were.

“I heard you had a volleyball meeting today–”

“After school. Even if I did, did you think I wouldn’t come running after I hear about my girlfriend getting bullied?” Kuroo said, his hand wrapping around your head. Your face was hidden, but he could feel you gasp for breath. The emotions you had been trying to hid getting lost in his chest, your stiff fingers gripped the fabric of his sweater vest. Kuroo’s large palm straightened them against his chest, warming them. “God, she’s freezing.”

“Girlfriend?” Yui was really crying now.

“Yes. Y/N is my girlfriend, and if anyone has a problem with this from now on bring that to me.” Kuroo’s deep voice boomed through the courtyard, it was a warning.

“You can’t be serious! It’s only been a few weeks, you’ll just drop her anyways in a few days right?” Yui had never been caught by Kuroo before, whenever a new girl would try to get close to Kuroo he’d never really minded if they lost touch after a few days. But you were someone he sought out, and tried so hard to figure out, he would never let it go that easy.

“Even if it did, you have no right to do any of this. But I’ll be with Y/N as long as she lets me, because I have deep feelings for her. I don’t expect you to understand but neither of us would ever throw the other away so easily as you’re saying. So leave us the fuck alone.” You had never seen him so angry before. But still he was so delicate to you, lowering his head to your ear to whisper a soft: “Are you ok? You did awesome, but this is over now. Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

“I’m sorry.” You said, but it was muffled by his shirt. His chest was so warm and firm, it made you somewhat sad to lose the warmth when he pulled away for only a second.

“Yui, I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings. If I had known you’d feel that way, I would’ve been able to end this sooner. But don’t worry, I won’t be going out of my way for you in the future to avoid any misunderstandings.... I’m going to take her to the infirmary, and I’m telling the nurse everything that happened here.” Kuroo held a strong frame, you winced when you took a step.

Your knee stung from the blood running down your leg. Kuroo didn’t want you to be here any longer than you needed to be, so he latched his palms under your knee and threw your arm over his shoulder. Bridal style he held you in his arms, girls squealed behind you. Your face practically being glued to his shoulder to hide your embarrassment.

The moment you were back inside you felt warmer. You squeezed him tighter to yourself. You were so afraid, allowing yourself to so easily be weak in front of him.

“W–wait.. Kuroo..” You were letting tears fall. He rolled you in his arms to better hold you there. Your hair smelled like a morning rainfall, you were so cold.

“Not yet. We’re not alone.” He said.

The rest of the time you spent in his arms was silent. And when he got you to the infirmary he was ushered to go back to his class since the bell rang.

“Please, she’s my girlfriend. Can I please stay with her?” You could hear him beg the nurse on the otherside of the curtain from where you were changing out of your wet clothes.

It made you smile, you didn’t know a title like this would make you smile. He never asked you, but he sure got comfortable with it really fast. Maybe it wasn’t real though, you tried to slow your heart beat from beating out of your chest at the thought.

“I’m sorry but school comes first. You can come see her later. She’ll be fine.” The nurse assured him. You peaked your head out from behind the curtain.

“Thank you.” You mouthed it to him and it seemed he understood.

Kuroo didn’t seem pleased, but he still nodded. He bowed to the nurse quickly before exiting. Once on the other side of the door he looked at his hands, his sleeves were still wet from where he held you in his arms. He was chilly from losing his blazer that was now with you. The view he had of the top of your head being forcibly pushed into his chest. His chest still tingled from the imprint of your face.

“Kuroo Tetsuro, you’re awful for thinking like this..” he scolded himself. He just had to pull you out of a situation that he caused, it was because of him that they were bullying you. He needed to apologize properly, but his mind couldn’t help but melt at how close you were to him. How it seemed you invited him to be closer. This 6’3” boy reduced to a crumbled, blushing mess as he squatted next to the infirmary door.

Girlfriend.

Wait.

“She’s my girlfriend....” Kuroo remembered saying that in front of everyone, “Did I... say that out loud?..”

Both his hands were used to smack himself. His face didn’t react from the shock, eyes still wide with two hand prints leftover on his cheeks. He didn’t even ask you to be his girlfriend! What had gotten into him! Even in the heat of the moment, he should have taken at least one second to ask and then ask properly later. No, that would’ve looked suspicious. How rude of him to ignore your feelings like that and announce it in front of everyone without your permission.

I’ve been so good at asking her for everything up until now. What if she’s scared of me again? No, if she wants me to I’ll start at stage 1... Maybe Yamamoto was right, I really am a simp for her..

He thought, a small smile still on his face. He was okay with that. You were so strong out there. He only caught a few moments but watching you talk back all on your own was inspiring. You could defend yourself, any normal person would’ve let it go but Yui was a different breed that Kuroo knew too well. Watching you speak so boldly was a treasure that would live in his mind, the last domino of hearing your voice say “That’s not true.” to protext your feelings for him. But that was all he was able to catch of the conversation since he couldn’t stand there knowing that your hand wasn’t shaking from the cold.

Does she really have feelings for me? Is it true? If I would’ve asked.. would she have.. his thoughts stopped abruptly as he looked to his right at the infirmary where you stayed. What were you thinking right now? Were the thoughts you had as embarrassing as his? An image of you popped in his head, probably not. His chest was so tight and warm and the thought. He can’t think like this in the situation you’re in. He should’ve tried to stay in there longer, but maybe any longer and he would’ve burst.

He looked back at his arms, the ones he held you in. The water has dried now, ang trace that you were in them was gone. He really missed that feeling. If it were up to him right now, you’d never walk again so you could always stay in his arms.

Girlfriend..

He’d have to apologize later for overstepping his boundaries and explain later but... he’d never apologize about how it felt far too natural to say.

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+ to be added please send an ASK.

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uglypastels · 4 years

Text

To the Beat // drummer!Tom 2/2

(a/n) and, as promised, here’s part 2! again big thanks to @duskholland and @captainpeggy40 <333 but a quick reminder, that i don’t often write smut, i don’t really know shit about writing smut so i actually had no business doing it... but i did it. so enjoy :) just, if its bad, don’t come for me

word count: 9117 words of filth tbh

warning: SMUT, i don’t even know what to specify. just.. 18+ okay but also, some fluff and humor cause i live by that

Please reblog if you liked it so more people can see it <3 and if you want to see more of this au, send an ask or dm <3

Read part 1 here <---> extra headcanons here

“It looks good on you,” he commented when you met at the door.

“Thanks,” there was the heat up your cheeks again. “And thank you for everything else, I had a really great night.” you were about to take the hat off to give it back, but he stopped you.

“It doesn’t have to end here, darling.” He said softly. For a second, it felt like your heart had stopped altogether. How you hoped he would say that, and then he did.

“What do you want to do?”

“I live a block away. We can- I don’t really know what we can do, to be honest.” He admitted, making both of you laugh.

“Your place sounds good,” and you stepped aside for him to lead the way. Tom opened the door but almost stopped when he saw it was raining. And it was raining hard. It had escalated from the moment you had looked out the window. Then you realised he didn’t have a jacket and was only wearing that tank top.

“I would offer you my jacket,” you said, “but I don’t think you would fit it… and I don’t have one.” You came to realise like the genius you were.

“I guess we’ll have to run for it, then.” He held out his hand. You didn’t even hesitate and grabbed it. Clutching on to the shirt and CD, you ran alongside Tom, across the street and then following it to the next right. It wasn’t really a run, but definitely a trot. The rain poured down on you, quickly soaking through all your clothes. By the time you had reached the door of his apartment building, your hair was sticking to your face, and you both looked like drenched cats. Tom grabbed his keys and unlocked the door as quickly as possible, letting you go first.

You leaned against the wall and let your breathing calm down. He did the same against the door. There was a second of silence before you started laughing. What was so funny? Neither of you knew. It just felt nice and like the right thing to do after running through the rain like idiots. Oh, so that’s what was so funny.

“Right, this way,” he pointed up the stairs. “I would suggest the elevator, but it hasn’t worked in like five years, I think.”

“Stairs are fine,” you said, already walking up.

“Wait until the fourth floor. Cause I’m not carrying you.” He joked, and you giggled, putting away the thought of him holding you in his arms and carrying you up the stairs into his home… and kissing you… throwing you onto the bed… FOCUS!

“Woah!” you almost missed a step, but luckily Tom caught you just in time.

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, just a bit slippery,” you tried to excuse your clumsiness, hoping that the fact that you were soaked from top to bottom would help. It did. Still laughing at you though, Tom helped you up and from then on you walked side by side. All the way up to the sixth floor. As exhausted as you were, you tried to play it off cool.

“Here we are.” He tapped on the door with his whole palm, and for a second you thought someone would open, but then he pulled out his keys again. A moment later you were walking into the flat. You couldn’t see much in the dark, but Tom quickly turned on the lights. It was a nice looking place—big living room with an attached kitchen. On one side there were two doors, which you assumed were his bedroom and bathroom. It was clean, but here and there some items were misplaced or left behind, making known that there was indeed a person living here.

On the wall closest to the entrance, you noticed pictures hanging. Most were of Tom and his friends and family. One stood out to you. It was an adorable little dog, smiling at the camera. When you looked over to the living room again, you noticed a red dog bed next to the couch with a bunch of squeaky toys.

“You have a dog?” you asked, already excited to see a puppy.

“Yeah, she’s called Tessa, but she’s staying with my parents and other brothers for the weekend since I would be out of the house for most of the time.”

“Ah yeah, that makes sense-” you had been looking around, not paying too much attention to Tom himself in all honesty. But then you had turned around and froze. There was Tom. Shirtless. He looked at you, slightly concerned and confused as to why you looked like that. You just had no idea what to respond with. There he was… six-pack and- and everything, in all its glory. His arms were still shining from the rain. Was this actually real?

You hadn’t noticed it before, but without the shirt, you saw how he had been wearing a necklace. A thin silver chain with some sort of charm on it that from a distance looked like a coin. He had been in the middle of fixing it when you turned around. So, there was that flexed arm to add to the things that broke your mind momentarily.

Tom stared at you, looked down at himself, then back at you. He was about to look behind himself, probably to check if there was something wrong, but then realised.

“Oh..OH. Shit.”

You were still speechless.

“See, I did not think this through. I was just gonna change my shirt.” He showed you the wet piece of cloth that was once his loose tank top. “Do you want something to wear? I don’t want you to catch a cold.” Now that you mentioned it, you were starting to shiver.

Your throat dry, you tried to mutter out, “uhh, yes. Thank you.” He nodded, walked past you and disappeared into the room you suspected to be the bedroom. He was gone for a bit, but when he came back, he was already changed. You had to hide your disappointment that he had put on a shirt, but the grey sweatpants made up for it in a way. Fuck.

“Here,” he handed you some clothes. “It’s probably not the best outfit, but it should keep you warm.”

“Thank you.” you grabbed the clothes from him. “Can I change in there?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.” He got out of the way, but you only took a step before he repeated something. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Uhm, sure. Tea?”

“Coming right up.” and he went off to the kitchen to set the kettle. You walked, uninterrupted, to the other room. It was, like assumed, the bedroom with not much there except for a closet and a large bed. It did look really comfortable though. And made up. You wished your bedroom looked this clean.

You took off your wet clothes, which was quite the challenge since it all stuck to your skin and your jeans wouldn’t budge from their place. The clothes Tom had provided were some shorts that seemed like he used for training or whatever exercise he did and a sweater. You had wanted to wear your new Winter Solstice t-shirt but, of course, that had soaked through as well. So, you put on the sweater and knew immediately that that was the better choice. It was soft and warm. Plus, the idea of wearing his clothes was also touching to the heart.

You walked out of the room as Tom was pouring the boiling water into two mugs. He looked over at you with a smile.

“How do you take it?” He was opening the fridge, ready to take out the milk.

“Honey and lemon, but it’s fine if you don’t have that.” you quickly added.

“Please, you’re talking to the tea expert here.” He took out a bottle of lemon juice, the same out you always buy you noticed, and a jar of honey from the cupboard. As he did that, you looked around some more in the room. The large leather couch was definitely the centre point of the room, with the large tv in front of it, accompanied by a PlayStation. There was a bookcase filled with… well, books, but also CD’s, records and different little things between them. You looked around, hoping to find a drum set somewhere, but there was none. Which made sense. You didn’t expect the neighbours to be too fond of drumming as a pastime hobby.

“We practice at Harrison’s place. He soundproofed his place.” Tom explained, seeing how you were looking around cluelessly. He handed you your cup as you both sat down on the couch. Fearing for your tongue, you carefully took the first sip, but it was surprisingly pleasant. He must have poured in some cold water to cool it down, just the right amount too. As soon as the tea got into your system, you felt the warmth go through your entire body. It was absolutely fantastic.

Still, you had to admit, it was a strange situation. Never would you have imagined to go to a concert and then, later on, go out for a late-night meal with the drummer, and now to be drinking tea on his couch.

“You don’t do this often, do you?” You quizzed. Tom looked up from his mug.

“Do what?”

“This. Take a girl out to eat, bring her home, undress in front of her… make her tea.” you elaborated on your question.

“The tea making, yeah, that’s new.” He sipped his tea with a slurp.

“Well, I’m glad to be the first then.” You knew he had meant it jokingly, so why not just go along with it?

You drank your tea together in silence. It all had this strange domestic feeling that was very nice, but by far not what you thought would be doing with Tom that night. But eventually, the tea had been drunk. You were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa. At one point you had put your legs on top of his. You could see that he was thinking about something.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked. He had been staring at the coffee table, mumbling the Flintstones theme song to himself and tapping his fingers along to the melody on your leg. You had clearly pulled him out of a trance.

“Do you wanna dance?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking, we can sit here the whole night until we fall asleep, or we can put on some music and dance. Just a suggestion.” He was full of surprises, this guy.

“Yeah, sure.” You got up and pulled him by the hands to follow you. “Sounds fun. Pick a song” You thought he would just get out his phone and get a Bluetooth speaker, but boy were you wrong. He moved over to the bookcase with his music collection. You tried to look over his shoulder at what record he had picked, but he pulled it out of the sleeve quickly and put it under the needle of the record player.

As the needle scratched between songs, he walked back to you. The music that he picked was slow, and it felt perfect for the moment as he took your hand in his and let the other softly touch your side. You weren’t the most excellent dancer but knew enough that you had to put your free arm on his shoulder.

The two of you moved around the room slowly, to the beat of the song. You put your head on his chest and could hear his heart beating along, well a bit faster. You could see his necklace poking out from underneath his shirt, so you let go of his shoulder to pull it out.

“It’s nice,” you smiled, a bit dazed, playing with the charm between your fingers. You could hear him chuckle a thank you.

The song was new to you. It was a simple melody, the singing was soft and intimate. As you spun around in Tom’s arms, it felt like the words were speaking to you directly. What was it again? You couldn’t remember exactly. Feeling him so close next to you, everything else was just a blur. Just like when he sang-

“Wait, is this you?” you looked up at him. He just smiled.

“Oh my god, it is!” Way to ruin the moment, but the song had already ended, and it was the only one on that side of the small record. “You guys have records?”

“We got ourselves an EP copy each,” he explained, scratching the back of his head. “I hoped you would like it.”

“I- I do.”

You looked into his eyes, trying- hoping- to see what he was thinking. They were flickering golden brown in the soft and warm light of the room. Then you saw it. That one sign you were looking for. It was just a fracture of a second. If you had blinked, you were sure you would have missed it. But you did see it. You saw how his eyes quivered down to your lips and back up to meet your eyes again.

He held your hand in his, the other was on your waist. He pulled you in closer—your chest against his. You could feel how shaky his breath was against your cheek. You lost your battle with self-control as you dared to glance down at his lips. They looked so soft. So inviting.

And you took that invitation gladly. Pressing your lips against his. He stumbled back a step, not expecting the push. He let go of your hand so he could hold you firmly against his chest. In the meantime, your hands wandered off to his hair. It was still wet from the rain, making it easier for you to comb through it. The kiss itself intensified with each lasting second.

A sound escaped you as he grabbed onto your leg, just to drag you off to the couch. He sat, giving you easy access to sit on his lap. You sat down with great pleasure.

If the air wasn’t such a necessity in life, it would have been likely you would have never pulled away, but alas. You parted your lips just enough to stop your lungs from burning. Tom took that moment to brush off a strand of hair behind your ear. A classic little move but you fell for it immediately. The feeling of his fingers against your skin. It felt sinful. It was only your cheek. Just thinking about his touch all over your body gave you that rush to kiss him again.

As he kept on holding your waist with one hand, the other made its way to your thigh, squeezing it gently. That little gesture made you jump up. Unplanned, was the friction between your and his hips. You couldn’t hear it, but you felt him hold back the moan.

“Fuck, don’t hold it in,” as frustrating it was to pull away, it had to be said. “Please,” you panted.

“Whatever you want, baby.” He leaned in to kiss you again, but this time he went lower down to your jawline. You held on to the back of his head and shoulder for support as he kissed and nipped at your skin, moving down to your neck.

Your body was starting to feel hotter and hotter. The once so comfortable sweater was just an inconvenient restriction at this point. And Tom felt that too. To your disappointment, his hands left your body to tug at the hem of the sweater. Before taking it off, however, he looked you in the eyes.

“You sure about this?”

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“But, if you ever wanna stop, just tell me, okay?”

“Yes.” How he managed to form full sentences, that was a mystery. You put your arms up, letting Tom take off the sweater. He threw it over the edge of the couch. Not a second later, your lips were together once again. Even though it only had been a minute, two max, it felt like an eternity that you had to get through to touch him again.

His fingers moved slowly over your body. Every inch he moved, followed with a burning sensation as if he was on fire. Burning you gradually, in the best way possible. One thing just felt off. So, you tugged at his shirt.

“I’m not doing all the work, babe,” he said with a grin. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but it wasn’t as if you really minded undressing him. You grabbed the shirt and slowly pulled it up to his chest. One by one, his muscles showed themselves, and you had to control the urges that started building up in the pit of your stomach. You pulled the shirt. Tom already had his arms up, ready to get the fabric off. If only he knew about your plan that started forming in your head.

The hem of the shirt just touched his lip when you put it in his mouth. He was about to spit it out, but you stopped him.

“Just wait, okay.” He kissed his cheek sweetly, making him roll his eyes at you. As slowly as possible, you slid off his lap. He wanted to make a grab at your hips, but you pushed his hands off… with difficulty, cause fuck, if it didn’t feel right to have him touch you.

The only way to let him leave you alone was intertwining your fingers, and letting your hands fall to his sides. He saw how you planted your feet on the ground so to make it easier for the both of you he spread his legs. It was a golden sight. With a big smile on your face, you leaned in, kissing his chest. It immediately received the reaction you hoped for. With the fabric in his mouth, Tom groaned softly, but still very audibly in the quiet room. When you looked up, you saw him tugging at the shirt as he tried to pull his head up, tensing his jaw. He could have just spit it out if he really wanted it gone… but he didn’t.

Thought it safe, you let go of his hands. They stayed in place next to his thighs. You moved closer to him to continue the feather-light kisses along his smooth skin. With each touch, his chest heaved in deep and heavy inhaled. You kept going. Kiss after kiss, moving lower and lower. You couldn’t help it but lick down that line of his abs, across that gorgeous tummy of his. And it was good too, rewarded with a beautiful growl from Tom. You could have said it was the best thing you had heard that night, but you had listened to a lot of good things that night… and who knew what was still to come.

You left one last kiss below his belly button, exactly to meet the elastic band of his underwear. A part of you wanted to snap it, but that felt a bit too cruel considering you almost made him swallow his shirt. You looked up again. It was a magnificent sight, Tom holding that hemline in his mouth, gritting his teeth as his chest moved up and down, needing and hoping for a release. He looked down at you too, and his eyes were black with lust. You could see him clenching his fists.

That was a sign of continuing. Unlike before, you quickly started to unbutton his trousers. You were too focused on your little task to look at Tom, but you saw him roll his head on the backrest of the couch. You unzipped the pants and pulled them down with a few tugs.

You almost felt bad seeing how hard he got in those few moments. Almost. Just a little bit more teasing wouldn’t hurt, right? Tom had other ideas. He pulled out the shirt from his mouth, tugged it off in one swift move, and threw it behind him. He glared down at you. “I swear if you don’t suck me off right now-”

“Or what?” you challenged him. This clearly took him aback, but only for a second. Then, this twinkle in his eye appeared, telling you that there was not a saint thought in his mind at that moment. He leaned over, only an inch away from your face. His words were like a high, each one giving you precisely the right rush of adrenaline you needed.

“Suck my cock, Princess, or I’ll just have to fuck that pretty mouth myself.”

And you were gonna let him, but a more significant part of you didn’t want to give up that easily. So, for now, you let out a soft whimper and nodded. Tom kissed you softly on the lips before sitting back up straight. He looked like a king on a fucking throne, with that proud and smug grin. It was giving you the greatest pleasure to ruin that little moment of his.

You palmed him through his boxers, moving your hand up and down, then leaned in yourself to kiss it, still through the fabric. Tom hissed out a moan, and right then, you knew you were golden. One more little kiss and you reached out for the border of his underwear. You were about to pull it down-

And then you got up.

“What the fuck-”

“I’m gonna get some water, I think.” And just like that you hopped over to the little kitchen and grabbed yourself a glass. As you were pouring yourself the water, you could hear him shuffling his feet out of his trousers. You could hear him walk up behind you. As you were about to touch the brim of the glass against your lips, you felt him push against your back. His hard-on was more than evident. He moved his fingers into your hips as he whispered into your ear, making your body shake from anticipation.

“So, you wanna play games, huh?” His tone was nothing but filthy. “You could have just said so, I mean I got Monopoly somewhere in the closet.” His left hand drifted off, moving up your side. You were still holding that damn glass of water, body frozen.

“Or I could turn on the PlayStation, whatever you want darling.” He kissed you just below the ear. His hand was sliding across the valley between your breast, tracing up to your neck.

“Hmm, tell me, what do you want?”

“I- I-” you couldn’t think straight. With him talking like that and his soft touch, it was too much.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I want...Aah!! What the fuck!” Suddenly his touch was gone, and you felt something ice-cold cover your torso. You had still been holding up that glass of water, and when Tom got close enough, he tipped it over with his finger, letting all the cold content spill out on you. Goosebumps formed all over your body, and you shrieked out in pure shock.

“Oops,” he giggled and pecked you on the cheek. Before you could say another word, he was walking away, in the direction of his bedroom. Not looking around, he held up his hand.

“Counting to four and then you better be here, without those ugly shorts.”

“They’re yours,” you said as he opened the door, still shivering from the cold water. He opened the door and was gonna close it but then quickly said-

“So? I have horrible taste. Take ‘em off, darling,” and he closed it. You could hear him count from the other side.

ONE

You quickly pushed off the, indeed, not great looking shorts.

TWO

You started walking up to the bedroom. The butterflies in your stomach had left the cage and were going crazy.

THREE

Almost at the door.

FOUR

You opened it. There stood Tom. He didn’t even hide the way he was checking you out. In only a bra and panties, there was little you could hide behind, but you tried to fight the insecurities.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He said before striding your way. Grabbing on to you, he kissed you passionately. You felt his hand in your hair, so you mimicked it. For the rest, you had no idea what was going on since you had closed your eyes. You let all the other senses speak for themself—his soft but harsh touch; the way you could still smell the rain on him—the sweet taste of honey and tea on his lips. You could hear the little grunts and whimpers escape the both of you as he slammed you against the door with a thud.

Then he grabbed your leg, signally for you to jump. You did without hesitation. Arms around his neck, fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. You kissed him feverishly. The fact that he was holding you up with only one hand hadn’t even caught up to you. The hand that was leaning against the door next to your face was not even registered by your addled brain yet.

Feeling the need for air again, you pulled away. Your foreheads were leaning against each other as you both inhaled deeply.

“What happened to fucking my mouth, Tommy?” You quipped. Tom was staring down, looking at how your chest heaved deeply with every breath.

“Would take too long,” he said, now looking up into your eyes. “I thought it would be better to just straight up start with your sweet little cunt.” He growled into your ear. Before you could say anything in response, he kissed you again.

His words were still spinning around in your head as he pushed the two of you away from the wall and carried you across the room to the bed. You could feel his erection against you, hard as a fucking rock. Why did you pull away from him on the couch?

He put his knee on the mattress before letting you drop. It made you think back to just a few hours ago, how you had fallen down on to your own bed, contemplating whether or not to go to some dumb concert… now look at you.

Your head touched the soft bedding, but your legs were still around Tom’s middle. He grabbed your legs and spread them just the right way so he could lean closer to you.

“You look so fucking hot, right now.” He groaned as his teeth grazed your neck, making you arch your back. He pinned you back down on the bed.

“Seeing you in that crowd, you know how hard it was for me to concentrate?” At this point, he had your arms above your head, holding them tightly. He kissed your jawline and moved up to your ear, tugging at your earlobe just that little bit, enough to make you quiver. You didn’t realise he actually wanted an answer until you felt the harsh sting of him slapping your thigh. Just enough to send that spark up to where you needed him the most.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “No, Tommy, I didn’t.”

“Hmm, thought so. But I saw you staring at me. Checking me out, huh? I had to really control myself to not just grab you and fuck you out there, right on my drumset.” His free hand, the one that wasn’t holding back your arms, was getting closer to your pussy. Your entire body was pulsing and shaking, needing for him to do something. Anything.

“Just imagine that, Princess,” he was whispering into your ear again, “you bouncing on my dick, in front of all of those people.”

“Fuuck,” you had never been much into exhibitionism, but hearing him speak like that, everything sounded good.

Suddenly you felt his fingers move over your underwear. It was just for a moment, him passing through from one thigh to the other, but it was enough to have you moan out his name in need.

“Tsk, behave, darling,” he kissed your forehead. So sweetly, it almost seemed as if he wasn’t about to fuck the complete hell out of you. “You’re gonna behave for me, right?”

“Yes. Just please- please do something.” You pleaded, which gave great pleasure to Tom.

“Good to know we got that little attitude from earlier sorted out, huh? I really didn’t want to punish you.” He didn’t? So what the hell was this torture? Of course, it all felt amazing, but if he would cross his fingers one more time next to your clit, you might actually explode.

“Now, I think I’m going to finger your little pussy, okay Princess,” He asked with that sweet tone. You could feel his fingertips move across the fabric of your panties. “Yeah, I think you’d like that huh, look how fucking soaked you are.” With his thumb he pressed over your clit, moving down through the slit. You moaned out, finally feeling some kind of relief from him.

He kissed your neck as he finally moved your underwear to the side.

“You’re so pretty and needy, you know that?” he said, smiling. You nodded your head, biting your lip in anticipation of what he was gonna do next. You had your eyes closed and opened them for a moment. Tom was right above you. He sent you an air kiss for extra measure. You tried to focus on his eyes instead of the sensation you felt every time one of his fingers was getting closer to push into you. Still, whimpers escaped you. Which he enjoyed immensely.

Then he finally did it. Two fingers, deep inside, stretching your walls. You moaned out in pure relief, ecstatic to finally feel something inside you. Tom let you adjust for a second until he started to move slowly in and out, making momentum. Not that he forgot about your clit. Oh no, he rubbed it until you were seeing stars in front of you,

“I’m going to let go of you, alright?” You were ready to nod at his question, but he added more on to it. “But since you do like playing games so much-” here it comes, you knew it, “let’s make it a bit of a game. I’ll let go of you, and then you got, let’s say, three seconds to pick a new place for them. And then you better stick with it too, cause I don’t want to see you move until you come, understood?”

“Yes, Tommy.” you gasped more so than said.

“Good.” He kissed you but quickly started to move down. You knew what was going to happen, you had been waiting for it. But he was still holding on to you. Right as his mouth had passed your stomach, he let go of your wrists. Without thinking about it, you planted your fingers in his hair.

“Hmm, good choice, darling.” He mumbled against the skin of your hip. You brushed your fingers through his hair, not sure what else to do while waiting for him to-

Then, he pushed your panties aside completely. You felt his tongue, and it made you roll your eyes to the back of your head. He held on to your leg with one arm, the fingers of the other were still moving in and out of you. You held on to his hair, holding on for dear life. For a second that thought of possibly hurting him flashed through your mind, but then that melodic groan went through him, and the vibrations of his voice passed through your body like an electric shock.

He kept moving his tongue in a way that made you sure he was trying to spell something out, possibly his own name, but you simply couldn’t make anything of it. You could barely concentrate on your own breathing, let alone words.

Tom pulled you closer to him, deeper, making you moan like you never had before. Now, you had your fair share of experience, but he was… extraordinary. He took his time, made sure to give every minuscule part of you the attention it needed. Almost as if he wanted to hit every single nerve and cell individually. You weren’t even sure if he did it for your pleasure or because of his own.

Did it matter?

From the way how you could feel the knot in your stomach tighten, clearly not.

“To-tom.” you gasped out. You were close. So close. But he didn’t need your words to know that. But it wasn’t enough for him. So, instead of going deeper, harder, faster, he sucked at your clit one last time before licking his way over to your thigh. You could have screamed in agony.

“Tom!” you did.

You wanted to let go of him and get up. Pull him up to you, maybe get on top even. But you remembered his words. I don’t want to see you move until you come. As much as you wanted to know what would happen if you broke that little rule, you also wanted to listen.

And so, you let out your frustration through digging your nails into his hair, but it had the exact opposite effect on Tom that you hoped for. Any time you would pull, even the tiniest bit, he would grab your thigh even harder, pulling himself to you. And he just kept on toying with you. Playing with your clit until that familiar knot was tying itself up in you, only to pull away and suck another perfect little hickey on your thighs. You had lost count how many times he had already marked you. On top of that, every time his lips would pull away, so would his fingers. Pull out just enough, only leaving his fingertips in you, to get you on that next edge of frustration, to make you beg for more.

“Tom, pleeease,” you begged. Tears were already forming in your eyes. It didn’t help that he would take that stupid necklace of his and put it against your burning skin. The cold metal of the charm always managed to come up against a new mark that Tom had left behind.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he said, kissing your sensitive skin between the words. You had to take all the power left in you to form the semi-coherent sentence.

“I want- want to come. Please, Tom.” Your head was spinning, body flushed and hot, sweat and tears mixing at your temples.

“You only had to say so.” His voice was the opposite of yours, composed and relaxed. You felt his smirk against you as he left one last kiss on you. The finally-

The easiest way to describe it was that he had gone wild. Animalistic. He devoured you as if he was a starving man, and you the last meal on earth. Then there were his fingers, moving at a rapid pace, but still so steady. You could feel it nearing. So fucking close. You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Your legs were shaking, and all your other muscles were practically rigid from how tense you were. You needed to let go now. Feel that release at last.

At last, yes. With a scream, you felt it all relax. Your body came undone in a wave of pleasure. You were melting into the bed, Tom being the only thing keeping you somewhat conscious of your surroundings.

You tried to concentrate on the feeling of his lips, licking one final line over your clit. It shook you to your core. You whimpered, not being able to take much more. Your body went limp, you let go of his hair.

“Shhh,” he was moving up. Kissing your body, snaking his way back up to look into your eyes. The cold touch of the necklace followed behind. You opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. After blinking a few times, you could finally see him, drenched in your juices, with the biggest grin on his face.

He parted his lips just the tiniest bit, and you followed him blindly. You felt his fingers on your lips and without thinking, put them in your mouth. The taste of yourself, together with the feeling of his fingers tasted like the best damn thing ever.

“That’s right,” he kissed your tear-stained cheek, “you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You nodded, closing your eyes. It was all too much, you had to cut off one of your senses before it was too late.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you looked right now. So fucked out- and I haven’t even had my good fun with you yet.”

You wanted to protest, but it was too difficult to speak. Besides, your fingers felt too good in your mouth to let them go for some pathetic little words. It wasn’t worth it.

But like all good things in life, it had to end. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth. Having no control left over your body, you let a whine escape you at the loss of touch.

“Christ, you’re needy,” he said before kissing you deeply, but shortly before he finished his statement. “I love it.” His hands were roaming your body. He held up your leg just so he could get in the position to squeeze your ass.

“Hold on to me, baby,” he murmured between another kiss. You did your best, still feeling no energy in your limbs. You crossed your arms behind his neck, feeding on the kiss for the strength to move. He held you as he pulled the both of you up to sit on the bed. And he kept holding on to you when he thrust his right hand to your back, to the strap of your bra. He moved his fingers around, looking for the clasp. Even in your dazed state, it made you laugh a little.

“It’s upfront,” you mumbled, kissing the corner of his mouth. He moved away to look at you, confused. You pointed down at the front of your bra.

“So you’re telling me,” he flicked it open, letting your breast basically spill out in front of him, “I could have had this view this whole time? Fuck!” He pulled the straps down your shoulders to take it off.

“Sorry?” you said, not sure if you really needed to apologise.

“No, don’t be.” He threw the bra to the floor. Almost on the spot where you had changed. It really wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it. Had you thought of this happening when you put on his sweater? Maybe? In a sense. It was an option. But nothing would have prepared you for this.

How could you have even thought about sitting on his lap, your legs around his waist, your arms on his shoulders, as he held you? Because of this, this wasn’t just some simple fuck. You hoped it wasn’t, at least. The way you held each other and how there was nothing but the passion between you- or was it possible that it didn’t mean that much to him?

Still, that orgasm he gave you was the best you have had in a long time. So if it was only for the night, then let it be. You could still get a good time out of it, and you would not let your mind ruin this.

Luckily for you too, Tom’s kisses made you shut off your thoughts reasonably quickly. It wouldn’t even matter if the world had been ending.

But kissing could only get you so far. And he clearly had the same thought. Panting, his hot breath hitting your neck, he asked you.

“Are you ready for this, babe?” You nodded. “I need to hear it, please.”

“Yes. Just fuck me already.”

“Perfect.” with a peck on the cheek, he let go of you and let you slip off his lap. He got off the bed. You sat on your knees, hands next to your legs, looking at him in anticipation. It was insane how he had managed to eat you out while his cock was rock hard. You could see the outline of it through his underwear, leaving nothing, but really nothing, to the imagination.

You watched him do a little jiggle, making you laugh, before taking the band off his boxer shorts and pulling it down. To say your mouth started to water, would sound ridiculous, but you weren’t so far from that state. He wasn’t too long, or too thick, you didn’t expect it to be anyway, but it looked just right to send you over into another dimension. There was that one vein going along his shaft that you couldn’t get enough of. Unconsciously, you were moving over to the edge of the bed. Just seeing him completely naked in front of you, send your mind into a frenzy. It was a magnificent view.

What couldn’t go unnoticed was how red the tip had gone, from pure arousal and frustration that he needed to relieve. How badly you wanted to help him. You moved closer to the bed end, he took a step closer to you. He had his hand on his cock but didn’t move a muscle. If he did, you thought, he might have exploded right there in the spot. And what would be the fun in that?

“Fuck,” he groaned, standing in front of you. “You look so fucking perfect on your knees.”

You didn’t say anything, just smiled. The energy was coming back into your body, slowly, and you could feel getting that independence back that Tom had so rudely taken away from you. So, without saying anything, you took him in your hand and started to move up and down, not breaking eye contact, well, until Tom’s head rolled back. You couldn’t blame him.

You kept on stroking him, steadily, leaving kisses every few seconds on his tip. The pre-cum started leaking almost instantaneously, which you gladly used to spread all over his tip, making it much easier to move your hand around. Your kisses in the meantime got sloppier each time, longer. Until you were basically just kitten licking that vein that was taunting you before.

The sounds that were coming from Tom were adding to the whole experience in the best way. His moans and grunts were sending you to the edge, so far that you couldn’t help but let your free hand wander down and rub your clit. And it didn’t go unnoticed by Tom.

“Even when sucking my dick, you need more, huh?” He asked as he looked down, right when you had finally put the tip in your mouth, twirling your tongue around it. The fact that you tried to look up into his eyes all innocent like should have sent him flying from laughter, but instead, he put his hand on your head and softly started to stroke your hair.

“Thought so,” he grunted. His hand stayed in your hair as you let your jaw slack and you made your way down his shaft, all the way till you could feel him touch the back of your throat. His grip got tighter, he didn’t move anything, but you just felt him grab your hair in his fist. Just enough to tell you to move without hurting you. He would have probably said it in words, but when you looked up, you saw how twisted his face was in pure delight.

You started to move in a paced way, but eventually, it felt too slow for Tom. That hand in your hair came to final use as he began to guide your movement. Letting you practically choke on him every time he moved up with the tempo. You felt the tears coming again as the drool fell from your mouth. You were an absolute mess, but it didn’t bother you one bit.

He kept going, fucking your mouth just like he had promised on the couch earlier.

“You know,” he said between pants, “As much as I’d love to cum in your mouth-” he hissed in pleasure when he hit the back of your throat again. “I swear the things you do to me, darling.”

He let go of you and pulled out. You gasped for air, finally having a free passage of air to come through to your lungs. Tom wiped some of the drool from your mouth before leaning in to kiss you. He closed you in by placing his arm next to you and slowly let you fall on your back again.

“Jesus,” he panted after the kiss. He looked at your mouth before gazing into your eyes again. You couldn’t imagine that it looked great, with your makeup completely smudged, but he smiled. “Would it be crazy to say that I love you right now?”

“I’ve heard crazier,” you said back, also out of breath.

“Oh yeah?”

You just shrugged. He let out an airy laugh that you could feel against your face. You closed your eyes, just for a second, to enjoy the moment. This small speck of time in the universe, where it was only you and him, where nothing else mattered. Just two strangers having a great time. Would there be more after this? Who was to say? It didn’t matter. Not to you, at least.

The little moment was ruined when you heard him curse. Suddenly the weight of the bed shifted, as he moved from hovering on top of you. You opened your eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

He was already on the side of the bed, leaning out to reach the drawer of the bedside table.

“Condom,” he muttered out, still trying to reach it. Not that he could just move up a bit and slide the thing open with ease. He liked feeling you underneath him. And you did too.

Finally, he managed to open the drawer and had to move up a bit to reach into it. You could hear his patting on the wood, but there was no sound of packaging.

“Fuck, wait a second.” He got up with a small jump and ran off, leaving you basically naked and alone on the bed. You sat and finally took off your panties. It was no surprise that they were completely soaked. You threw them on the ground next to your bra.

The drawer was still open, and you bit your lip at the thought of looking inside it. You could tell a lot by a person’s bedside table. And it was already open… just a peek wouldn’t hurt? Right?

You moved closer to the table and leaned in to look. There was not much inside-just a charger, a book (but it was too dark in the room to read the small print of the title), a glasses case and a small notebook and pen. On the notebook, you saw scratched “WS”. Winter Solstice? Was it possibly lyrics? You didn’t go as far as going into that.

As you had been looking, you could hear him rummaging through stuff in the room next door, the bathroom.

Having seen everything there was to see in the drawer, you decided to just lie down on the bed, looking for a comfortable position, but also something that Tom would enjoy seeing when he walked into the room. Right then, the door opened, and Tom walked in. His one hand over his crotch and the other holding a box of condoms.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find them at first, turned out they were- fuck.” He was looking at the box and hadn’t seen you lying there immediately. When he finally did, he almost dropped the condoms, only catching them with his other hand at the last second.

“You think you can get on your knees for me, darling?”

“I can try,” you shrugged, already turning around. You could hear him curse to himself as he saw you sit there. Then the ripping off the wrapper. He was taking his time for sure, which you didn’t really mind. You just weren’t really sure if your arms would be able to hold yourself up. You could already feel them shaking.

“I really fucked you up, didn’t I, love?” You felt his cold hand on your ass, squeezing and kneading gently.

“Yeah, I guess so-Ah,” you moaned as he slapped the spot he had been so gentle with just a second before. At that touch, your left arm gave in, and you lost balance, falling with your face into the blanket. The nicely made up bed now only smelled of sweat and sex and you really weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, c’mere,” he groaned, pulling you in by your waist, so your back was against his chest. You yelped out at the sudden movement and looked over your shoulder to look at his face. He was looking down at your chest. Hard nipples begging for attention from his hands and then they finally got it. As he kissed your shoulder, he started to play carefully pull at them, making sure your reaction was nothing but good. He got what he looked for when your hand reached out for his while you moaned.

Then there was that cock of his, between your legs at this point, teasing you. Tom let go of your chest, allowing you to replace it with your own hand. You tried to ignore the tickling sensation as his fingers danced over your naked body, moving down to your legs. He grabbed his shaft and, for worst or best, slapped your pussy with it.

“Tommm,” you whined, just needing to feel him inside you.

“Alright, sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.” He kissed your neck as he finally slid into you. Those two feelings together made you roll your eyes so far back you thought you had gone blind for a moment. He spread your walls and filled you up perfectly, like the strangest fucking puzzle. You reached up to grab his hair again. There was just something about it, how it was so messy and you were the cause of it, that turned you on. And by the way, he smiled as you tugged at it, you could tell he loved it as well.

Tom kept on pounding into you at this perfect rhythm, to no surprise. You wouldn’t have expected anything less from a drummer. He was rough, deep, hitting every spot he needed to at just the right time. And with every thrust, you felt yourself getting closer. Already so sensitive from the previous orgasm and the way he had utterly destroyed your mouth, there was really not much you needed to get there again.

But it didn’t mean that he put in any less effort. Tom took each and every thrust with the precision you deserved. He kissed every inch of your skin available to his lips.

It didn’t take long for you to come undone again. The moans coming from your mouth were all he needed to get there too. The way he groaned into your ear as he came could have sent you going for another round, but your legs were shaking like crazy. If it wasn’t for the way he held you, you would have most definitely fallen.

His hand fell to your stomach, holding you tightly. Out of reflex, you reached out for it, intertwining your fingers. He pulled out of you. The sudden emptiness in you was the final straw for your legs to give up, your knees spread, making you slide down past Tom’s body a little. Heavy breathing from both of you filled the room—his chest against your back. Your heart beats mixing together into one.

He held you close to him until you could somewhat control your breathing. He sat down and carefully put you down so you could lay down on the bed. You watched as he took off the condom and threw it into the small bin in the corner of the room. He grabbed his underwear and put it on quickly.

“Let’s get you something to wear, shall we,” he smiled at the sight of you lying in his bed, exhausted, naked, with the most sheepish smile on your face. You nodded, expecting him to grab the sweater from the living room, but instead, he opened the closet and took a shirt that was folded on the top shelf. He sat down on the bed and helped you sit up as you got the shirt over your head.

You noticed it was another Winter Solstice shirt, but it had a different design on it. It didn’t have that scratchy writing on it. Instead, the letters flowed smoothly into each other in an intricate cursive pattern. Underneath it, there was a sketch of a crescent moon.

“It’s a design we think about using if we do any other shows,” he explained before you could ask. “The other one was cheaper so we could get more.”

“I do hope you’ll play more shows,” you admitted as you lay down on the pillow. You thought he would join you, but instead, he got up. Clearly, he saw the panic in your face because he quickly explained: “I’m just gonna get you some water.”

“No, stay,” it came out a bit more whiny than you intended it to, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” He raised an eyebrow but still sat down next to you. You patted the other pillow motioning for him to join you in the horizontal position, which he eventually did with pleasure. You scooted over to be closer. By doing so, though, the shirt moved up, only just covering your breast.

Tom put his hand on your side, tapping mindlessly, you focused on it, trying to figure out a pattern, but nothing came to mind. You put your arm under your head for some more support, and you looked at him while his eyes were on your body. He seemed to be deep in thought again, just like back on the couch before you started dancing. His tapping transformed into his fingers moving around over your skin in small shapes.

“You know,” he said, still drawing little pictures on your side, “I’d really hate for this to just be a one-night thing.” He looked up into your eyes.

“As long as you make me some more tea again, we’re good.” you leaned in to kiss him through each other's soft laughs. Of course, it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You didn’t want it to be. You were completely hooked on him. Ever since you had seen him sitting at that bar. To think it was only a few hours ago.

The END

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed > please reblog and leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them >masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @captainpeggy40 @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @starkeybabie @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @perspectiveparker @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @spidey-reids-2003 @fallinfortom @chloecreatesfictions @londonspidey @hollandcreep @inlovewithmobtom

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #smut #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #band!au #drummer!tom au #drummer!tom #au #strangers to lovers #not even gonna lie #i have a love hate relationship with writing smut #cause i love the content #but to write it #i want to punch myself in the face

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