#sorry i saw these posts like a few nights ago and had to doodle them

[dj-yaniel]

WHAT IF HOMESTUCK WAS... 4CHAN POST???

100% NO CLICKBAIT!!

ENJOY THESE GOOFY DOODLES.

#homestuck #homestuck art #homestuck doodles #dave strider #karkat vantas #jake english #caliborn #dirk strider #kattattack #sorry i saw these posts like a few nights ago and had to doodle them

[blueoranberryy]

Csm oc thingy

First time I ever touch this app, bleghh

Her name is Natsu!!!

★Character details and rambling

(ignore that Denmark and Natsu look the same height in the doodles, she's not that tall)

(She/Her pronouns for her!!!)

She's a private devil hunter!! Since she was 13, had to gain money somehow without parents! (Hates Public Safety because [redacted], will never try to join them, kind of hates anyone who works for them or with them)

Her fav color is red!! Who could have guessed!!

Likes crocheting, knitting. At some point she had to fix her own clothes after years of use when she lived in the streets so she kind of forced herself to learn how to do it properly, but grew a like to knitting certain stuff and as a hobby¿ she's very energetic in general so she likes to go out to walk or run and can't really stay in one place for too long without wanting to move

Foul-mouthed, teasing and maybe way too honest sometimes she doesn't mean to be rude it just kind of happens, she's sorry, she knows it's not enough, she'll be better

Haves a contract with the Oni Devil(mask and kanabo given via contract, I'll post her with the mask, eventually)

She lived on the streets for a long time, mostly in so to speak "the dangerous streets of Tokyo" or "the underground businesses." In her own until she finally got an decent income to rent an apartment, kept studying and supply for her basic needs.

Meet Denji on the early start of the school year¿ She saw him just be there and hang around and was like "yea he's interesting", they hanged around for a while that day and then she was like "yo, wanna see something cool?" Dennis nodded and man got dragged at the other side of the city, to eat yakisoba, at night. They ate yakisoba together once, they're yakisoba buddies forever

Social butterfly, knows almost anyone at school (she knows everyone's tea and the beef they got with each other)

Tomboy that hates being femme but she's not in a "I'm not like the other girls" phase, just haves problems with expressing femininity + loves being a tomboy

Nayuta didn't like her at first but she's the best babysitter ever (Too carefree, spoils her and then it's like "Den-boy, we're home, you owe me $$$$$")(Just jokes but after like scaring the shit out of him) + "Don't worry kid, I like women."

Cherry ripening symbolism.

Shows love physically because a word will never come out of her mouth. Loves bear hugs, clingy, touch starved.

Not too fond of Yoshida, and Fumiko. Thinks Yoshida is funny and talks like some late night commercial guy voice, but he's with PS so kys yaoi devil (Not actually). Fumiko the same + somehow knows what happened in the movie theater and yea, girl's not happy in the slightest. (Count your days fumiko.)

I think that's all for now!! I'll add more if anything else comes to mind, she was kind of the first oc I made since I got this brainrot a few weeks ago (I read the whole manga again.)

I have a few more ocs but she's been in my mind these past days, I'll try to give each a little space here!!

🍒—"Long life free will!"

#csm #chainsaw man #csm oc #csm fanart #csm spoilers #csm denji #csm asa mitaka #csm nayuta

[uglypastels]

Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent. 

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course). 

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall. 

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots? 

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake. 

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms. 

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way. 

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them. 

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again? 

T- something starting with a T. 

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside. 

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving. 

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water. 

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast. 

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy. 

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.” 

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was. 

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement. 

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures. 

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party. 

So he was a frat boy. 

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better. 

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop. 

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger. 

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile. 

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression. 

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.” 

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?” 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned. 

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case. 

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges. 

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class. 

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls. 

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least. 

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night. 

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover. 

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time. 

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame. 

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning. 

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name. 

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it. 

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed. 

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it. 

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there. 

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side. 

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued. 

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear. 

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger. 

Crumbling… 

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned. 

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her. 

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her.  She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture. 

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack. 

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture. 

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider. 

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door. 

Tom sank back down into his seat. 

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up. 

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.” 

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.” 

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room. 

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it. 

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class. 

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then. 

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over. 

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said. 

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n. 

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group. 

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison. 

“So, Holland, you’re in?” 

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time. 

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself. 

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone. 

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger. 

“Angela Pikowski.” 

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit? 

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone. 

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread. 

It did not matter. 

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.  

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was. 

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway. 

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light. 

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her. 

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater. 

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets. 

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right? 

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough. 

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it. 

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness. 

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing. 

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much. 

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game. 

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life. 

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway. 

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place. 

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year. 

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa. 

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa. 

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else. 

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party. 

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind. 

Property of: y/f/n 

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts. 

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account. 

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos. 

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else. 

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows. 

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second. 

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it. 

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you. 

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom! 

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep. 

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures. 

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed. 

He scrolled down. 

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds 

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played. 

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people. 

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies. 

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking. 

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed. 

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink. 

He accidentally liked her oldest picture. 

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable. 

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep. 

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours. 

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram? 

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h 

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it. 

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony. 

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that? 

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account. 

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course. 

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious. 

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies. 

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past. 

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite. 

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good. 

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture. 

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period. 

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on. 

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground. 

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak. 

What’s done was done. 

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired. 

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet? 

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation! 

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet. 

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in.  For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day. 

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments.  He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji. 

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n 

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple- 

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi 

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him? 

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.   

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply. 

(y/n)

Hey :) 

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing. 

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol 

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. 

(y/n) 

No not really 

Quickly change the subject. 

So what are you up to? 

Good enough subject? 

(tomholland2013) 

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night. 

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class. 

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n) 

Tess? 

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup?  It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again. 

Wanna see? 

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee. 

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that. 

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on. 

Of course, it was a dog. 

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything. 

(y/n) 

Omg 💀 

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered  What?  Did you think I meant something else? 

Embarrassment kicked in anyway. 

(y/n) 

No... lol 

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n) 

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013) 

Cause she gets to be here with me? 

(y/n)

No I meant it like  She’s so cute  I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax  I was just messing with you  But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n) 

Maybe another time 

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013) 

What’s on the menu? 

(y/n) 

Probably spicy ramen? 

(tomholland2013) 

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself? 

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway. 

(y/n) 

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw 

(tomholland2013) 

You make it sound like i am personally responsible 

(y/n) 

Well your the only guy from DK i know so  you’re**  💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree 

(tomholland2013) 

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

 _________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop? 

He started to type again. 

(tomholland2013) 

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over. 

(y/n) 

I’m good thanks. 

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes. 

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment. 

(y/n) 

Maybe another time  ttyl? 

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer. 

(tomholland2013)

 Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day.��

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-” 

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door. 

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either. 

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?” 

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order. 

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball. 

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed. 

 _________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.  

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in. 

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen. 

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking. 

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.” 

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.” 

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do. 

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement. 

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up. 

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself. 

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer. 

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.” 

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder. 

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.” 

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.” 

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it. 

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes. 

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no. 

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.” 

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly. 

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________ 

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he? 

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone. 

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again. 

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder. 

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks. 

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave. 

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you. 

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse. 

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she? 

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid. 

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her. 

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant. 

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow? 

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once. 

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend? 

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out. 

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily. 

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture. 

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :) 

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut. 

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later? 

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted. 

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages. 

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it. 

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished. 

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class. 

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her. 

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face. 

“Hey,” you replied. 

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft. 

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.” 

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head. 

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully. 

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?” 

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to. 

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips. 

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-” 

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.” 

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course. 

 _________________________________

“Who was that?” 

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had. 

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend. 

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.” 

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter. 

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.” 

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in. 

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-” 

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed. 

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.” 

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?” 

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked. 

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said. 

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well. 

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.” 

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way. 

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors. 

 _________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself. 

(your account) 

Hey  Sorry I ran away like that  And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally  Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this 

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that.  Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account) 

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then 

 _________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight 

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple, 

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it. 

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to. 

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him. 

Was y/n scared? Of what? 

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass? 

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it. 

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered. 

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line. 

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it. 

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body. 

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed. 

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter. 

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination. 

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname. 

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite. 

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54. 

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.” 

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room. 

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her. 

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable. 

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?” 

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.” 

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?” 

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly. 

 _________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?” 

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked. 

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder. 

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed. 

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for! 

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu. 

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly. 

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language). 

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand. 

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that. 

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you. 

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said. 

“With cinnamon!” you added. 

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off. 

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged. 

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale. 

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.” 

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”  

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed. 

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?” 

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you. 

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-” 

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom. 

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks. 

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick. 

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable? 

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?” 

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied. 

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.” 

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed. 

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.” 

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.” 

You both laughed. 

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay. 

How you hoped it was. 

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open. 

“Wait, really?” 

 _________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head. 

No, it wasn’t possible. 

“How has no one- nooo,” 

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them. 

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate. 

“So, you’d want to kiss me?” 

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face. 

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them. 

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly. 

“In your dreams, Holland.” 

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour. 

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well. 

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for. 

“You already did.” 

 _________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing. 

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.” 

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second. 

“At least… top ten.” 

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.” 

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion. 

“That just moved you down to number six.” 

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times. 

Finally, you sat up again. 

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now. 

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed. 

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile. 

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?” 

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather. 

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.” 

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle. 

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge. 

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted. 

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand. 

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.” 

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you. 

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again. 

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything. 

“If you wanted to kiss me.” 

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real. 

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right. 

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze. 

Tom chuckled. 

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.” 

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss. 

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer. 

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #frat!au #fratboy tom #college!tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #stranger to lovers #college!au

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Desires and Daydreams

Me: oh yeah I’ll have this edited and out by tomorrow morning! Also Me: Ha! Sike! Time fo post at night again :)

All in all I’m so sorry this took so long for me to get out. A busy week with ball fucked me over time and energy wise. However, I now have a full 7k word fic for y’all so that’s good! I quite literally just finished editing this so I hope it’s as good as my mind told me it was about two minutes ago. Especially considering it’s a little gift of sorts for the amazing @doodlevore (AKA I saw this gem of a drawing, flipped out for a hot minute, and then decided it was writing time) Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and I hope I did your artwork justice Doodle :)

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Aw c’mon Doc!” the man halfheartedly whined as he attempted again to grab the small ‘medic’. Once more 2b had ducked under his hand, glaring up at him through his goggles. The taller of the two just laughed at the sight, near daggers of teeth glimmering through his toothy grin. No way in hell could he take that glare seriously like this. “You act like I was planning to hurt you. You really think I’m gonna hurt ya?”

“No,” 2b started, halting his words momentarily to dodge another attempted swipe at him. Getting caught by the man wouldn’t be the worst thing, sure - hell, he could name several things automatically worse than being grabbed by him in this hellscape of Nevada - however that did not mean that he wanted to be scooped up like some doll and put through whatever his teammate had in mind for him and the other two who were both currently busy dodging the taller’s other hand. Again his glare settled on the younger hacker. “But that does not mean I’m going to keel over and let you do whatever, Deimos. Now would you stop trying to grab us for five minutes!”

“But what’s the fun in that?” Deimos protested, swiping at Hank only for the shrunken mercenary to vault themself over his hand. Go figure, he was still going to be difficult. Hell, they all were. When he was the smallest of the group he was at their mercy and even went with it half the time, but the moment he got to have some fun they all decided to be as difficult as possible. In all honesty it wasn’t as bad as he was making it seem. Watching them run around like little mice was pretty entertaining. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans he wanted to follow through with though! Whatever, he’d play their games for now. He’d get them eventually, and when he did he’d have his fun. “I’d stop if you all would just stand still for five seconds, but no. You all clearly wanna play so I’m gonna keep up the cat and mouse game we’ve got going.”

“But that- Deimos, you aren’t getting my point here at all!” 2b yelled up at the man, ducking under yet another swipe at him made by the youngest of their little crew. He was fairly certain it was impossible to miss what he was saying so either Deimos was less intelligent then he had grown to suspect over the years or he was flat out ignoring the man’s request to quit trying to grab them. A brief comparison of the two had crossed out the former option rather quickly. That cocky, smoking son of a gun. “Sanford! A little help?”

“Why me?” The Chad of a man yelled back as he scrambled to his feet after having to get down to avoid being grabbed. In the back of his mind he already had a sneaking suspicion as to why he was asked. He wasn’t stupid after all.

“He usually listens to you better than me!” The older hacker shot back, nearly running into Hank as he prepared himself for the next ‘attack’.

“So we’re playing that card now. Good to know.” Sanford grumbled softly, no real venom in his tone. 2b was right, at least in most contexts. He probably was the closest to Deimos out of them all and the other two’s usual intimidating approach to get Deimos to listen really wouldn’t work with them the size of the man’s hand. A sigh tugged itself from his throat as he directed his words up at the seemingly giant hacker. “Dei, c’mon now. Can’t you quit with the whole trying to grab us thing? It’s- AH!- not all that fun!”

“Damnit.” Deimos cursed under his breath, having missed Sanford yet again. Who knew trying to just grab his teammates would be so difficult. It was definitely fun, this little game of cat and mouse like in those old cartoons he’d managed to pirate, but it was still harder than he expected to actually grab them. Guess not everything gets to come easy. Or maybe he was going too easy… “Maybe not for you. Just stand still and make it easier on yourself if you’re having such a bad time.”

“That’s- Dei, you chucklehead, quit the games already and stop trying to grab us like rodents!”

Deimos just shook his head, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. His grin still stood proud on his face in all its sharp toothed glory. This was too much fun to give up so easily. Really, they expected him to quit the moment he started having fun? Please. He’d gone through too much to waste his opportunity. Getting his hands on shrinking tech had to be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, despite the difficulties and hurdles he had to jump to do such a thing. What had been a normal, boring day with no missions had turned into him watching his three shrunken teammates dash across the worn table while dodging his attempts to grab them. He was going to enjoy this, whether they liked it or not. Call this revenge for all the times he was teased for being the smallest out of all of them, or call it him being an ass. He didn’t care. For once the younger hacker wasn’t the small one in the group and boy did he have plans for it. Oh he had plans…

“Mmm…how ‘bout no.” Deimos hummed, slamming a hand down on the table next to 2b. Just as he’d hoped the man tensed, trying to keep himself steady on the shaking table. His eyes locked onto the temporarily paralyzed unofficial medic like a hawk’s to its prey, smirk morphing into a full on grin. Without hesitation he grabbed the man in a firm fist. There was one of the three. “Ha! Gotcha Doc~!”

“Mmgh- I can see that, Deimos. Now put me down!” 2BDamned didn’t shout at his teammates often. There were a few times he did, yes. Prime examples of such times included (but weren’t limited to) tracking blood all over the base, doing something absolutely reckless and facing the consequences, not following the plans they had for missions, etc. Not once had he expected to ever be yelling at one of them, specifically the smallest of their team, to put him down. Hank? Maybe. Sanford? Long shot but not impossible. Deimos? No. And yet here he was, trapped within the grasp of the younger hacker with seemingly no way to escape. It’s not like the little wiggling that his loose enough to be breathable yet tight confines could do was helping much.

“But what if I don’t wanna, Doc?” Deimos hummed, resting his other hand on the table for the first time in the past twenty-five minutes that he’d been trying to grab the others. “What if I wanna keep you trapped in my fist for the rest of the day huh? Maybe longer. It’s not like you can exactly free yourself, now can you? Huh? You gonna wiggle yourself out of my hand, 2b? Claw your way out like some baby kitten?”

“I swear to Jebus, once we’re back to normal I am going to kill you myself.” The dissenter growled, trying again to free himself from his confines. He could only imagine how utterly idiotic he looked, wiggling around like some fish out of water in Deimos’s hand. Talk about humiliating.

“Sure you will. Sure.” Deimos rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he thought through his next moves. He could just grab the other two and get on with his plans but…oh that ruined the fun of the chase! His plans and stomach could wait, he wanted to enjoy this just a little longer. Now what could he do to achieve such a thing? “And besides, that’s an ‘if’ to you, Doc. If you get back to normal. Can’t do that without my help after all, so maybe you should let me have my fun~”

“I will. Don’t think I- wait. What?” Well now that wasn’t something anyone stuck at four inches tall wanted to hear. Yes, he could probably figure out how the hell Deimos shrunk him (assuming that the hacker had gotten the information and technology from the AAHW) however Deimos had at least a bit of a point. Things would be so much easier, faster, and less dangerous if he just reversed whatever the hell he did. He….he fucking planned this. He- oh the younger hacker was in some deep shit once they were back and he was the smallest again.

“Mmm you heard me, 2b. Getting you three back requires the help of me, unless you’d rather be crushed under the boot of some agent trying to get back to normal yourselves.” Deimos hummed, his words practically swimming in cockiness. “And I don’t think any of us want that. So either you let me have my fun, or you three get to stay pocket sized until you do.”

“Deimos, don’t you even think about it.” Hank growled, eyes narrowing behind his goggles as he stepped closer to the hacker. Being this small was bad enough. It wasn’t like a MAG agent where they weren’t completely dwarfed in size. No. He was stuck the size of a fucking mouse being toyed with by their basically gigantic teammate. And to top it all off the threat of being stuck at this size now loomed over the mercenary’s head. Just fucking wonderful.

“Aw but what if I did, Hank?” The hacker asked with a raise of his eyebrow, turning his attention from the medic in his fist to the shrunken killing machine that was now glaring at him over his arm. It really was something else to see them so tiny when they usually towered over everyone. How the tables turn. “I would think this is a nice situation for you. So long as you’re hidden it’s not like the Agency could find you now. No ones gonna look for a four inch tall Hank, now are they- Hey! Sanford!”

The mentioned man’s head lifted from where he had landed on the table, 2b now laying next to him after a less than graceful ‘rescue’ from the younger hacker’s hand. His feet scrambled against the old table, attempting to gain enough traction to allow for him to stand. For a moment he looked as if he were trying to stand on ice, feet slipping out from beneath him. The doctor beside him wasn’t doing much better in the department of getting to his feet. Judging by the disappointed stare he felt burning two holes into his chest once he finally got to his feet, Hank wasn’t all that impressed with their sudden lack of coordination either. Wait, no. Hank could come later. Right now he had to deal with the giant Deimos that was currently pouting at him.

“Sorry Dei, but I’m siding with Doc here. Just put us back to normal before Hank decides to find a way to kill you at this size.” As Sanford spoke a tone far less confident then he had hoped for laced his words. Something that probably doomed him to not be listened to. Judging by the new level of cocky smeared across the hacker’s face? He was right too. Well shit. That didn’t help anything.

“Hmm…maybe but, and hear me out, I’ve got a better idea.” No one had to ask exactly what Deimos’ ‘better idea’ was. He was all too happy to demonstrate it, Hank quickly finding himself laying flat against the table with the hacker’s hand pinning him in place. The small shocked grunt from the mercenary didn’t go unnoticed by the other two, their eyes darting to their now trapped teammate. Both failed to notice the brief warning look in Hank’s eyes behind his goggles until it was too late, a warm calloused hand pinning them to the rough grain of the wood. Well, there went the idea of escape.

A sharp laugh chased away the silence that had previously filled the air. Beneath the rim of his visor two eyes simply watched as the three small forms writhed beneath his hands. Proof of the point he had been trying to prove. The point that his three shrunken teammates had wanted to be false. No way to escape now. Not unless he allowed for it, that is. A small lightbulb lit up in his head at the thought. The idea was tempting, were he to be completely honest with himself. Give his friends hope only to crush it like a spent cig under his boot once more by trapping them in a new way. Oh but then there was the option of dangling freedom just in front of them. That was an idea…and there were so many more possibilities too. In the back of his head a small voice attempted to grab Deimos’ attention. Yelling at him in every way it could think of that even thinking about doing that to his friends was wrong, even if it was playful at its roots. He shouldn’t do such a thing to them! Though, thinking logically, there was no way they wouldn’t do the same or something similar were their positions switched. Deimos knew that much, being the shortest of their gang. A soft scoff sounded from his throat, mind made up on the matter. Unfortunately for the three pinned to the table, in the end the voice of reason was all too easily ignored by the younger hacker as he adjusted to lean forward in his chair. The smell of cigarette smoke grew in strength with each hum that passed the man’s lips, the three pinned beneath his hands only able to watch as things seemed to get worse for them.

“Heh. Much better.” Deimos said with a smile, gladly ignoring the glares he was now getting from his little friends. “Now what shall I do with you-“

Ggnnnrrrr……

“-three….”

Anyone with half a mind would think that after being interrupted by your stomach you would be embarrassed and most likely apologize. The three shrunken men on the table thought that after being interrupted by his stomach Deimos would be embarrassed and probably laugh it off. Maybe even give them a chance to run without thinking. What they didn’t expect was for him to start laughing. A deep chuckle from the back of his throat too, not just an embarrassed little giggle. It was a genuine fucking laugh. First off, why the hell was he laughing? Second, what the hell did that mean for them? After a moment of thought one thing became clear. As much as they didn’t want to admit it, the three knew what the answer to the second question was long before it was even asked. Nothing good. That’s what it meant. Especially not with that dumb grin still sitting on his face. 2b, eyes locked on Deimos’ expression, had opened his mouth to attempt prying an answer out of the younger. Before a single word could leave his lips, however, his world was flipped on its head.

Literally.

For a brief second everything stopped. The warmth and pressure from the hand holding him to the table disappeared, cold washing over him and sending a shiver down his spine. That’s when a new type of pressure appeared. It was still rough and warm, the grip of a calloused hand for sure, but it was much more concentrated than just smashing him to the table. Specifically around his right ankle. His eyes couldn’t go ‘dinner plate wide’ any faster than they did the moment he felt said pressure appear. The less-than-manly scream he had heard beside him roughly half a second earlier started to make a lot more sense by the millisecond. Especially once he was dragged backwards and up, a very similar noise escaping himself. For a brief moment everything spun before his sight leveled out. What he didn’t want to see was Deimos grinning at him. Upside down.

“Annnd there we go. Sanford, Hank, I hope you guys still have a good grip at this size~.” The hacker jabbed, grinning at the little chain his friends had formed once he started picking them up. Pinched between his thumb, pointer, and middle finger was Hank’s torso. They were currently holding onto Sanford’s ankle, looking less than pleased with the situation they were in. Sanford was gripping onto the ankle of 2BDamned as he dangled, worry painting over his features. Then there was 2b, dangling at the end of the chain upside down with a look quite similar to Hank’s plastered on his face. All in all, quite the interesting little chain they made up as he leaned back in the chair.

“Damn straight. You two drop me and you’re dead.” The ‘medic’ grumbled, all too willing to make his displeasure known.

“Aw, don’t you worry, Doc. If they drop you I’ll make sure you have a nice, soft, warm landing~”

“Well I’m sorry I don’t want to be dropped on my hea- Deimos, what the genuine fuck does that mean?” He shouldn’t have asked. The moment after the words left his mouth 2b knew he never should have asked what the younger hacker had meant with his words. Dangling over the man’s lap having to stare him in the face while upside down wasn’t ideal. Absolutely not. However, he found much preferred it to dangling inches above Deimos’ open jaws, the smell of cigarette smoke laced breath hitting him almost as hard as the realization of just how sharp the man’s teeth were. He supposed he never noticed with Dei a. rarely ever purposely showing them off, and b. him being smaller than the older hacker. That didn’t stop him from mentally smacking himself upside the head for not taking more notes of it sooner though. Especially when he was getting so…up close and personal with them now. Fuck he was close to those daggers.

“Dei- Dei, think about this!” Sanford shouted as he stared down at the sight of the man’s open mouth, praying that his friend would listen to at least some reason. Sure, they gave him shit for being the smallest of the group often. He especially did. Not once though had he, or the other two as far as he knew, expected that said teasing would lead to them possibly having to spend the day trapped in said hacker’s gut though. If they had, they would have backed off a little. But now the threat was more present than ever. And knowing Deimos? It might be longer than a day too. He wouldn’t put it past the man at all. Jebus Christ….

“Oh I have San. We’re past that point now.” Deimos hummed, his tongue lazily snaking itself over his lips as he glanced over the string of teammates that dangled from his hand. Slowly his stare became distant, his mind beginning to wander. Just how would each of them taste exactly? Would they all taste the same? But what if they each tasted different? Now wouldn’t that be something. Perhaps he wasn’t too far off picturing Sanford as a juicy sausage in his little moments to himself. Oh that would be perfect. The warm feeling of drool trailed itself lazily down his chin, each thought regarding the possible tastes of his friends encouraging an empty rumble from his midsection. He just had to find out now.

“Deimos, lower me any further and I’ll make sure you choke to death.” The man only laughed, eyes fluttering shut as he opened his mouth once more.

“Sorry Doc. ‘S too late to stop now.” Any screams of protest from his teammates fell on deaf ears as Deimos lowered the end of the little chain into his mouth. Immediately he was hit with the taste of black coffee, hints of iron, and oddly enough what tasted like whisky poking through and tickling his tongue. The soft, pleased hum escaped him long before he could even think to stop it, his mind far more focused on getting that flavor to coat his tastebuds than his actions or the saliva steadily dripping down his chin.

2BDamned had a different opinion on the matter. Specifically about the claim that it was ‘too late.’ It was not too fucking late. In fact, it was anything but. Deimos’s mouth, which absolutely reeked of cigarettes might he add, was still wide open. He wasn’t slipping down the tight tube he could see in front of him yet. He was being rolled around and licked over like some sort of candy, something which he apparently had to remind Deimos he wasn’t with a smack to the tongue. Sharp teeth surrounded the unofficial doctor on both sides, Sanford’s grip on his ankle still like iron despite the saliva now thoroughly coating his body. Try as he might to push himself out with his hands they only slipped and slid across the wet surface of Deimos’s tongue. Far too similar to how he was steadily slipping backwards.

“Dei…Dei, you can pull us out now…” Sanford yelled up to the man, ducking his head between his arms to avoid the feeling of daggers dragging down his head and neck. Jebus, his teeth really were sharper up close. The white knuckled grip he held on 2b’s ankle refused to budge as he slipped further in, eyes locked into the sight before him. Not once did he ever expect to watch the older hacker slowly disappear down his best friend’s throat with nothing he could do but hold on and pray. Yet here he was. Fuck. “Dei-!!”

“Sanford, don’t even bother at this point.” 2b groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. Deimos wasn’t going to listen to shit. That much was clear now if it wasn’t an hour and a half ago when they’d woken up in his hands. He didn’t want to admit it, not by a long shot, however as he slid further back there wasn’t any way the dissenter could convince himself otherwise. He, and the other two, were doomed. “He’s not going to-“

Ulp~

“…..listen. God damnit.” What else was he to even expect at this point?

Try as hard as he might, Sanford found he couldn’t grip the unofficial doctor’s ankle any tighter. Not without the possibility of breaking something, considering that he most likely had already passed the ‘try not to bruise the man’ stage. No doubt the clearly handprint shaped black and blue bruise would be there in a day tops. A scolding was nearly cemented in his future now, however Sanford couldn’t find it in himself to complain about it. Compared to the hole Deimos was digging himself, with a smile on his face no less, he’d gladly take the talking to. Speaking of the hacker, either he was genuinely out of it for some reason or he was just trying to be a grade A dick.

“Deimos!! Cut it out, man!” He yelled, trying his hardest to squirm away from the licks and shifting of the man’s tongue. Unfortunately for him, nothing seemed to work. It started at his hands but all too quickly the sensation of a wet tongue dragging itself up, over, and around the pyromaniac’s arms and to his torso. The dark lenses of his signature glasses fogged over with each warm breath that washed over his body. Goosebumps dotted all exposed skin, any fabric quickly becoming drenched with saliva. The sensations slowly crawled their way down Sanford’s body, more of him no longer dangling and instead slipping across the hacker’s tongue by the moment. He watched his hands, and by extension Doc’s feet, slowly slip beyond his vision into the void-like entrance of Deimos’ throat. His arms followed not long after, the darkness enveloping more of his vision by the second. Talk about a way to spend your day.

Glk~

A soft groan rumbled around the shrunken men, the sound’s maker all too lost in his thoughts. Tastes of warm sausage, coffee, and the lingering hints of whisky and iron danced across his tongue. Each lick up the parts of Sanford’s body which remained momentarily in his mouth brought a shiver up through his spine. With each second the small body inched further back, pulling his hand toward his mouth. His fingers and the body pinned between them slipped past the hacker’s lips with ease. Layers of cloth, along with the occasional sensation of scarred skin, pressed against his tongue. The taste of a rare steak and a much stronger metallic hint, again not unlike that of blood but somehow much more pleasant, seemed all too eager to attack his taste buds. His spine seemed to reduce itself to jello in a matter of seconds, relying on the backrest of his chair for support. The smoker pulled his fingers from his mouth with a small pop, jaws shutting around his final shrunken teammate and leaving his mind to ponder over the tastes and sensation attacking his mouth and mind alike.

The word ‘still’ had been completely wiped from Deimos’s dictionary, if it had even been there to begin with. At least that’s what Hank would have told anyone who asked. His eyes had narrowed behind his red tinted goggles and now they seemed to grow thinner with each movement from the muscle beneath him. As if the heat and lingering cigarette smell from the hacker’s breath weren’t enough, the wet feeling of saliva continued to sneak itself into every fiber of his being. First his skin, then lighter clothing items like his bandana and mask, and finally seeping through his coat and multiple other layers of clothing. And just what was a better cherry on top then being rolled around near constantly. Every moment they seemed to find themself in a new position within the confines of the young hacker’s mouth. While their grip remained on Sanford’s ankles, the same could in no way be said for his patience with the man who had caused this hell by shrinking them. He swore, Deimos better enjoy his time being able to hold them like dolls because the moment they were back to normal the man would be getting a firm taste of his own medicine. Whether it be by him serving as lunch or by another form of revenge was yet to be decided. Hank could only plot so much, though. Despite how much more bearable he found thinking about a way to ‘return the favor’ to Deimos to be, he needed to at least show a little of his own irritation to the man. After all, he wasn’t just some snack. They were still Hank J. Wimbledon god damn it, and they’d prove it if they had to. How he would do that remained a mystery for what felt like hours of constant licking and flipping…until said proof came. It came in the form of a kick to the inside of Deimos’ teeth. A kick which sent him sliding backwards-

Ulk-

Glp~

And the oddly shaped lump in Deimos’ throat disappearing behind his collarbone.

Deimos’ eyes had widened in shock, a hand quickly pressing itself to his throat as it happened. In his opinion, it happened too quickly. All too fast the warm weight disappeared from his mouth, pushing itself backwards with force into his throat. Far too soon did he lose the previously vivid taste of barely cooked meat and metal, leaving him with only the memory and lingering fragments of it like the other two tastes. Too quickly had the lump in his throat been pushed down by two final swallows, disappearing down behind his collarbone. For a moment he sat there in silence, the room lacking sound except for his heavy breathing. With each rise and fall of his chest he waited. Waited for the one thing that couldn’t seem to come fast enough. Moments passed with nothing before the feeling he’d been waiting for rushed his senses. A filling warmth pooled itself in his stomach, moving around against the walls of the organ and pulling a warm chuckle from the man. His hand trailed to rest over his stomach, feeling the small bodies shift and fight beneath layers of clothing, muscle, and skin. Fangs glimmering in a grin once again as he poked at the squirming fullness in his gut.

“Well look at that.” He laughed to himself, relaxing back into his chair. His stomach gurgled under his hand, what he guessed to be a thank you of sorts now that he had what he wanted within it. Though something told him the others wouldn’t be thanking him all that much. “How are you three holding up in there?”

“Deimos, do not laugh at us or so help me Jebus- Hank, get your arm out of my face!” The words were quickly followed by what Deimos could assume was 2b pushing Hank off him and into his stomach wall from what he could feel. Those three couldn’t seem to stay still. Well, he couldn’t truly blame them if he wanted to. It had to be slippery, trapped in a wet, moving organ like his stomach and all. The mental image of his three teammates slipping around in his stomach, trying their hardest to gain footing or at least a comfortable position, drew another laugh from him. This was great.

“Dei, c’mon.” Sanford added, giving his own kick to the wall in case he had failed to grab the hacker’s attention before. Try as he might to stay out of 2BDamned and Hank’s little squabble fate seemed to have other plans as he was shoved back into them every time he got away. Or maybe that was just Deimos being Deimos. “You’ve had your fun, now spit us out you chucklehead.”

“Mmm yeah no.” Deimos hummed, drumming his fingers mindlessly on his belly as he took in the little shocks that each harsh kick or punch sent through his body to his brain. Each movement registered in his brain as a pleasurable little shock, but the harsher they were the more enjoyment they seemed to cause him. Not that he was complaining. Last he checked his teammates could tire themselves out with squirming all they wanted to if it felt this nice. “See, that’s not really the plan here. Not for a few hours at least.”

“What now?” Sanford’s voice had dropped its hopeful tone, now more monotonous and serious. Beside him he heard a growl, one he assumed to be from Hank. Was the smoker trying to get them killed? Again he punched the wall. “Dei, quit joking.”

“I ain’t joking, ‘Ford.” The young hacker replied bluntly, his shit eating grin more than audible in his words. A long, over dramatic sigh made its way from his mouth with ease as he adjusted his position to one more comfortable. Or at least as comfortable as one could get in an old chair. Smiling to himself he gave his stomach a little shove, feeling the three bodies inside shift and move under the pressure. “I just wanna sit and enjoy this for a while. It feels too nice to just give up.”

Silence fell upon the three currently held within the confines of the man’s stomach, each sitting there taking in Deimos’ words until the pressure from outside had lifted. Once it did, they all reacted their own way. Hank, for example, sat still for about ten seconds tops before a punch was thrown at the wall. Sanford, on the other hand, debated whether Hank’s approach or his attempts at reasoning with their ‘captor’ would be more effective at getting Deimos to spit them up. Then there was 2BDamned, who sat in what would’ve been an unnerving silence had they not known him. Knowing him, though, changed the meaning of the silence from ‘is this man insane to be so calm?’ to ‘Deimos just dug himself a grave’ in a split second.

“Deimos,” The unofficial medic started, “you have ten seconds to at least start spitting us up or I will force myself back up your throat simply to beat your ass.” Despite the warmth of their current confines, a chill shot up Sanford’s back. As far as he knew, the last thing you wanted to be was at the end of Doc’s threats. The man often had little to no issue going through with them, and Deimos wasn’t some special case. The laughter they heard (and felt shaking their ‘cell’ for that matter) was all it took to solidify that Deimos didn’t take them seriously at this size. Guess said threats don’t work when you’re four inches tall at best and your ‘captor’ is a smug ass bastard.

“Ha! I’d like to see you try, Doc.” Deimos chuckled, giving his stomach a firm pat which only seemed to serve to jostle around its captives more. “I might not be able to handle spice like San’ but I do know my way around feisty snacks~.”

“We aren’t food, Deimos.” Hank growled, kicking the floor beneath him. The flesh sunk under his boot, a sickening squishing sound heard as a result. A small shiver trembled up the walls, one which failed to register with the black-clad mercenary as in pain. Oh just wonderful. The sharp toothed asshole was enjoying this.

“Mmm you sure, big guy? Cause you seem like food to me right now.” Within only a few seconds of the words leaving his lips the hacker found himself met with a pleasant shockwave up the spine. Clearly a certain black-clad mercenary didn't like being called food, if the fighting he felt wash over him like a tsunami of warm, fuzzy electricity meant anything. A soft groan crawled out of his lips, his hand lazily tracing circles over his stomach. ”mm oh c-calm down in there. I didn’t mean it. I will let you out, Jeez.”

“Deimos, this isn’t funny. Spit us out.” 2b snapped, kicking the floor.

“Mmm sorry, Doc. Can't hear you heheh…” the hacker spoke, words blurring softly as he melted back into the chair.

“I’m serious!” The words fell on deaf ears.

“Dei, c’mon…” Sanford this time. His eyes drifted softly shut.

“Dei…” His grin turned into a simple smirk.

“Dei…” Didn't he get he wasn’t spitting them out yet?

“Deimos…” Oh full names now. How fancy.

“Deimos..?” Wait…that didn’t sound right.

“Deimos.” Was he losing it?

…

“DEIMOS!”

The hacker jumped, blinking rapidly as his eyes darted around. What was going on? Where were they? Who did he need to kill? Where were the others? Thoughts rushed through his head as wide eyes darted around everything in sight, looking for something they recognized. Anything to show him where he was or what was going on. Relief came to him in the form of Sanford standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder as if he was trying to get his attention. Most importantly though they were in their base. Safe. No one was here. They weren’t under attack. He was just daydreaming. Sanford and the others were here and he was just…daydreaming- oh damn it. Go figure it was too good to be true. A groan, this time annoyed, rang from Deimos’ throat.

“Jebus- Dude, are you alright?” Sanford asked, eyebrows knit with worry and…an emotion Deimos found himself unable to name. Like he’d seen something. Something…weird. Almost like concern but not at the same time. For a brief moment an idea reared its head, only to be smashed down like a weird game of whack-a-mole within the hacker’s mind. There wasn’t any need for such an absurd idea. It’s not like Sanford could have seen his little daydream. Nope, that was safe in his head. The smoker shook his head to clear it, quickly flashing Sanford a sharp toothed grin.

“Yeah man. Just zonin’ out and daydreaming a little ‘s all. Nothing to worry about here heheh,” he laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder playfully. His eyes scanned the man’s face again, trying to see if his statement had done its job. Although the worry had dropped from Sanford’s face, the other emotion remained. Now what on earth was that for?

“Daydreamin’ huh? ‘Bout what?” The pyromaniac asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes flicked from Deimos’ eyes to his mouth, then back again as he spoke. He didn’t seem to not believe Deimos when he said he was daydreaming, so what on earth was that look for? And why was he looking at his mouth so much? Giving into the call of curiosity the sharp-toothed hacker brought a hand up to his mouth, eyes widening mouth momentarily when his fingers found a trail of saliva dripping from his lips to his chin. He’d been drooling. Whoops.

“Eh. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Deimos lied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand which he then wiped on his pant leg. So that’s what Sanford had been looking at. Oh he must’ve looked downright stupid too. Well now wasn’t that just great? He just had to hope the Chad hadn’t decided to take a photo.

“Honestly I don’t even remember what it was about.” Liar, he remembered all of it. The vivid tastes, the squirmy fullness, the thrill-

Grrrnnnggg…

Ah shit. Busted by his own stomach. For a second the hacker sat there stunned, blinking dumbly as his cheeks heated up with a pink tint. Ok just play it cool Deimos. “….though if I had to make a guess? Food heh.”

“Yeah, that would make sense heh.” Sanford laughed softly, playfully jabbing the smaller man in the stomach. He seemed to buy Deimos’s story, bringing a sense of relief to the hacker. At least he wasn’t going to press on it. “Your stomach was anything but quiet, you know.”

“Go figure. And when I can’t say anything about it too.” Quickly laughter had found itself spilling from Deimos’ mouth, his mind having calmed down when he had heard the sound from the other man. He seemed less concerned, or whatever that emotion he couldn’t name right now was. As another grumble shook through his middle the hacker lowered a hand to rest over his stomach. He got it already. He was upset the daydream of his wasn’t real after all too. Not much more he could do besides try and find something to eat now though. “Say, I’m gonna go try and snag something to shut my gut up. Wanna come?”

“Nah, I’ll pass this time.” Sanford spoke with a small shake of the head and a smile. Try as he might to play it off as friendly, it seemed that odd emotion that Deimos couldn’t name was just bound to show itself in his words. “You just go shut that thing up before the Agency uses it to track us.”

“Oh ha ha. I’m going.” Deimos laughed, giving Sanford one last playful punch to the shoulder before running off. He had food to track down somewhere in this hellscape of Nevada, unless he wanted a beating from Doc that was. He just needed something small or, hell, even temporary if he happened to come across a shrunken grunt or agent. They would work out just fine so long as he didn’t let the others find out what he’d used to shut his stomach up. Couldn’t give away anything that could relate to his little hidden desires. The emptiness in his gut wasn’t something he’d wanted back, but alas, a daydream is only a daydream and he wasn’t getting any fuller just walking around. Now where would his best chance to snag someon- something be…

…

Sanford watched as his friend ran off, smile slowly fading as Dei disappeared from his line of sight. That look of caution slipped back onto his face as he slowly turned his back to head to his room. He needed a moment to think about what he’d just seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t just forget what was now burned into his mind. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the younger hacker had been daydreaming about if you had seen him while he was in the zoned out trance of his. Mouth wide open and drooling with a hand pretending to dangle something above it, an active stomach topping it all off like some sorta weird cherry on the sundae of his best friend’s little fantasy. Oh no, he knew what that meant. And hearing him mumble the names of their other teammates, along with his own, at least once through it all? It spelled out the man’s daydream in big neon lights. The very thought sent a shiver down his spine, despite how he tried his best to shake it off.

He wanted to believe it when he tried to tell himself that Deimos wouldn’t ever shrink them, much less try to eat them. He really did. All that he’d seen along with logic itself, however, pointed him at it with the firm proof that his words were lies. The man would no doubt take advantage of it, if he ever found a way to shrink them, even if he were to keep them as safe as possible. Just as he had with any unfortunate shrunken agents or grunts he happened upon when he was alone (or at least when he thought he was) Safe or not safe, the fact of the matter still stood. Sanford did not want to spend however long within the confines of his friend’s gut, especially if he wasn’t alone. Being in there had to be bad enough. Him not being able to do anything about it either only made the situation worse. Reasoning with the hacker was most likely hopeless and he wasn’t about to beg. What was left? Pray? God, if Deimos ever managed to get his hands on the Agency’s shrinking technology then one thing was downright certain. Boy were he, Hank, and 2b doomed…

#soft vore #mawedness combat #it took me long enough #but it’s finally done #i have so many ideas for fics based on drawings by a handful of artists #this one though…this one made me go for it and write it #congrats doodle #you and your art shot me with my own inspiration Gun #and I’ve just gotta say amazing work again #you were one of the main three/four who inspired me to write M4dc0m #anyway #I hope you enjoy the fic you caused :)

[noctualilith]

Our Past Got Us Here

We all love the Harvard FinnLo pining, but after the amazing and painful art Haz posted today we needed an extra dose of fluff to balance the feels. Co-written with the amazing and eloquent @ais-for-alex , the characters and universe by queen of the hazelhoots @lumosinlove 

The box with the ominous title Harvard in blood red sharpie should have been heavier for all the memories it carried, Logan thought as he hefted it on his desk in his new room. He was all moved in with Finn and Leo, unpacked and fitting seamlessly in their space just as he did in their lives… but for this one last box.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that whatever he unearthed was firmly in the past now, and his present was so much lighter and happier than anything he would find in there. 

He heard Finn and Leo moving around in the apartment and he knew they were there for him if he needed them. He knew Finn saw the box and suspected what was inside, if the way he was lurking close to his door was any indication. He also knew that this was his task first and foremost - to unpack the past and claim it fully as his own, with all the good and the bad it brought. This was where he met Finn. This was where he fell for Finn. This was where he carried the burning flame of all he felt for him, held it close and hid it away from everyone including himself, until it burned him from the inside. He could still feel the hot rush of shame and hurt he was so well used to pushing back under and avoiding at all costs. 

Opening the box would mean coming face to face with it for the first time after years, no more deflecting. 

He was ready. He was home, their home, the three of them together and he was ready. 

He pulled the lid off the box and was met with Finn’s warm gaze staring at him from a treasured photograph lying on top, the two of them only a few weeks after Logan got to Harvard, throwing him back into a memory that cut with precision right into those places that hurt the most. Years ago, he had packed that box in a state of numb resignation, putting away his heart piece by piece, alone in his room back at Harvard because Finn had left him for a dream and it hurt too much to see the reminders all around him. He had been crying too hard by the time he placed that last photo in the box, Finn’s smiling face blurred by the tears and hidden away when he closed the box and tucked it away. Now the feeling roared to life in his chest, loud and hungry for a resolution. 

He wasn’t ready.

He must have made a noise, or maybe Finn had a sixth sense for when Logan needed him because the next thing he knew were his arms wrapping him in a hug, the safest place on Earth as far as Logan was concerned. 

“Lo, baby, we’re okay.” Finn murmured into his hair as Logan hid his face in his neck, breathing him in. They were okay, they were great, but there were still some things unsaid between them, an unspoken agreement to leave that box unopened for another day. 

Well, it was open now and waiting for them on the desk innocently.

Logan took a breath and lifted his head, searching for a kiss and the reassurance that came with it. He wasn’t alone, with Finn thousands of miles away, both of them silent and hurting. He was here, with his boys, allowed to touch whenever he wanted. They were good at reminding him of that, too. He needed that reminder now. 

“Tell me.” He knew Finn would understand what he was asking for. Logan wasn’t good at talking, but Finn could read him like an open book after all those years. Logan only realized how much after he stopped pushing him away and allowed himself to love and be loved exactly how he’d yearned for. 

“We’re okay. I love you. I’m never leaving you. Leo is never leaving us. You moved in with us and everything is finally as it should be, because being away from you feels like I’m missing a part of myself and fuck, I’m done with that. Do you know how important you’re to me? I’ll spend the rest of our lives telling you, Lo.” Finn was cradling his face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his lips after every declaration.

Logan’s hands were grasping at the fabric of Finn’s hoodie - Leo’s hoodie, actually - and that brought an unbidden smile to his face, helping the words hit home. Finn, in Leo’s hoodie, in his room. He didn’t have to do this alone, do anything alone, ever again. 

“I know, mon amour. It’s just-- we haven’t really talked about-- I know I wasn’t in a hurry to unpack all that and you probably weren’t either but I want to, now. I think I need to.” He gestured to the innocent-looking box, watching Finn step closer to it and look inside, emotions playing across his face. He knew what it represented, of course he did. He probably had one just like that at some point, or maybe his was still unpacked too.

Finn reached into the box and picked up the photo from the top, the same one that Logan could barely look at just moments ago. He held it out to Logan with a wistful smile. “Let’s unpack this one together, what do you say?”

“Yeah, I’d really like to do that.” Logan’s voice was shaky, but he was determined. They’d probably end up crying, he could already feel the hot press of tears behind his eyes just thinking about all the memories that they were going to bring to light, but he wanted them all. He wanted to touch them, to put them up on his walls and see them every day without hurting for their past selves. A story of how they got to here and now, of how they lost each other and then found each other again. How they found their missing piece and built a home together. 

He took the photo from Finn, their fingers brushing and unfailingly sending sparks across Logan’s skin. It’s been like that since he could remember, Finn’s touch like a brand, whether accidental and forcedly platonic for the longest time, or purposeful now but no less exciting with the promise of forever. It made him feel brave, so he cast around for the tape and tore a piece to stick it to the back of the photo. First one for the wall. First memory to unpack. 

“You remember this one?” he asked Finn while he picked a place for it, pressing it to the wall and making sure it held. “I loved you already, when we took this photo. I was trying to convince myself that I couldn’t, but I did.” He heard Finn behind him suck in a breath, but he stayed quiet, letting him speak. Logan turned a bit, just enough to reach his hand back, wordlessly asking for the next photo, sticking it to the wall without looking at it first. 

It was a photo of the two of them at a party. At the party. 

“Lo--” Finn started behind him, already gearing up to tell him they could do this another day, Logan could hear it in his voice. It’s happened often enough. Logan was sick of it, of swallowing the pain and the tears and hiding in the safe topics of their everyday life, like what to get for dinner and who should drive. 

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted Finn, softly but with determination, still looking at the photo. He felt Finn pressing himself along his back, one arm coming up to drape over his shoulder, his hand pressing over his heart. There was another photo of them, just like this, a favourite of Logan’s and currently in Finn’s room, another piece of his heart captured forever. He leaned back into the embrace, drawing strength from the unwavering support. Now, then, always, Finn was by his side no matter how often Logan pushed him away. He was done pushing him away.

“I shouldn’t have done that, at the party. It was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” Logan felt the first tear roll down his face, felt Finn’s breath stutter in his chest. 

“I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one not talking about it, you know? It’s on me, too. And we’re better now, aren’t we?” 

Logan nodded wordlessly, breathing through the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought about that night. A miracle turned into a secret and sitting heavy and unaddressed instead of being treasured as it should have been. 

Finn spoke for the both of them, needing to acknowledge in words what happened. “That was our first kiss, Lo. I still remember it, like it happened just yesterday. I loved you already, when we took this photo. I couldn’t believe what happened after. I’m glad it did.”

Logan turned to him at that, surprised. “You’re glad? I blamed it on being drunk and then never talked about it. It might as well not have happened at all! Our first kiss was a lie and I can never change it. How--” Finn pressed a kiss to his lips and stayed there, interrupting his rant and waiting for him to kiss back before pulling away again, keeping their foreheads together. 

“I’m glad because we’re here now. We’re talking about it now. It was real to me, Lo. I was afraid then, too. I’m not anymore, you’re not anymore. We found each other. We found Leo. That’s what matters.” Finn’s eyes were swimming in tears but he was smiling, and Logan couldn’t help but kiss that smile right off his lips. “You’re right. That’s what matters. Gimme the next one. Let’s talk about all of them.”

The wall was slowly filled with memories and their weight was lifted from their unspoken past word for word as they remembered each moment for the good and the bad. So often Logan had felt close to crumbling under the guilt, but Finn was right there holding him close and offering him absolution with each new piece out of the box, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Beside photos, there were other things too. Movie tickets, four of them from the same movie they kept going back for. A receipt from a dinner at a roadie, just the two of them, where Finn doodled stick figures playing hockey while they waited for dessert. Crumpled notes that Finn would sometimes leave stuck to Logan’s door, sometimes a shopping list, sometimes an inside joke. Logan kept them all. 

FInally, the box was empty and the wall was full. Logan felt exhausted but his heart was lighter than it had been in years, brimming with love for his boys and gratitude for the road that brought him here. He and Finn stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the room, looking at the wall, tears drying on both their faces. 

“I want Leo” Logan spoke into the comfortable silence, pulling on Finn’s arm, suddenly eager to have them both close, to bask in the reality of having them, of being loved by them. “Come on Harz, let’s find him.” 

Finn reeled him back in for one more kiss. “Love you, Lo.” 

“Love you, too. Love Leo. Want Leo now.” 

“Yeah, me too. Come on, he’s in the kitchen.” Logan was already squirming away and Finn let him pull them from the room and towards the kitchen where they could hear the clatter of utensils. He did the hard work and now he wanted his rewards. He wanted his boys close. 

Hand in hand, they padded down the hall towards the kitchen, towards their missing piece, towards their future, leaving all the guilt and the hurt finally where it belonged; in their past. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Leo brushed a bit of flour from his hands. He suppressed the urge to wander into Logan’s room where he knew his partners were unpacking more than just the old boxes beaten by years of hiding in the closet. Those old boxes that carried memories of Finn and Logan’s days spent so close to each other but separated by an ocean of feelings that fit between their dorm beds. 

No, Leo had to let them unpack together. Finn and Logan needed to be the ones to pull each memory from the moth eaten cardboard. They needed to be the ones to hold them close to their hearts and feel, and once the hurt of all those years  past had been aired away they could finally hang those memories on the walls to look at without that bitter hurt anymore.

Leo would wait though, he would wait for them to emerge from the solemn confessional of Logan’s room, he would wait for them to be ready, he would wait until they wanted him there to pull them back together. He would wait for them forever. Luckily though he didn’t have to wait forever. Leo turned as he heard their footsteps padding closer to the kitchen. 

“Hello, my loves,” he said as Finn and Logan peeked their heads in to see what he was doing.

“Mmm,” Finn hummed in greeting and came up to press a soft sweet kiss to Leo’s lips. Out of the corner of his eye Leo saw Logan hop up to sit on the counter. When Finn finally pulled away his lips were pulled into a gentle smile and his eyes as warm and sweet as melted chocolate. Leo sighed at the sight, but turned to Logan who was softly kicking the cabinet doors where his feet dangled from the counter. 

“Hi baby,” he whispered, slotting himself between Logan’s knees and running his hands soft against his thighs. Logan sighed and wrapped his legs around Leo’s waist pulling him in closer. 

“You all unpacked?” Leo asked so softly for a moment he wasn’t sure Logan had actually heard him. But he saw that look in Logan’s bright green eyes that meant he was thinking, choosing his words carefully before he tried to speak. So Leo waited, he reached up to lightly trace his fingers against the scratchy stubble on Logan’s jaw as his partner gathered his thoughts. Leo felt Finn settle in behind him, pressing his chest flush to his back and rest his chin on his shoulder. He turned his face inwards pressing closer just to place a kiss to the soft skin on Leo’s neck.

“Yeah,” Logan finally answered with a sigh, he turned his face to nuzzle into Leo’s palm. “It was- it was hard,” he whispered, then looked over at Finn still resting his head on Leo’s shoulder and smiled softly. “But as hard as it was to live through, and remember, I don’t think I would change even a minute of it.” 

Leo gave him a bit of a puzzled look at that, why on earth wouldn’t he change it if he could? Why would he be willing to live through that pain? Logan chuckled lightly at his confusion and leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Leo’s mouth.

“Mon amour, I would live every minute of it again and not change a thing, because mine and Finn's past is what led us to you. And you know what? Thinking of it like that, it doesn’t hurt at all.” 

Leo couldn’t help the sheen of tears that glazed his eyes, or the sniffles as he reached forward to pull Logan fully into his arms, holding him tight like he couldn’t bear to leave even an inch of space between them. 

“We love you so much Nutty,” Finn whispered, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck, “you make it easier. God, you make everything better.” 

“Guys,” Leo sighed at the feel of them pressed so close against him, “this wasn't supposed to be about me.” 

Logan reached out to cup his face, his eyes bright and sure as they gazed into Leo’s own, “sweetheart, it’s about us, all three of us, together. Our past, and yours, they were stepping stone to get to this exact moment.” 

“Leo,” Finn said softly, he pulled away slightly and turned Leo to look at him so his back was now pressed against Logan's chest where he was still sitting on the counter. Logan twined his arms around Leo’s torso as Finn tilted his chin just so until he couldn't look anywhere but those chocolate eyes. “It’s time we all moved on from the past, ok? Instead, lets focus on building a future, one for all of us, that we’ll get to spend the rest of our lives cultivating.” 

Leo swallowed hard, Finn's words seemed to crawl into his heart mending cracks and fissures he hadn’t realized were there. His words put to rest that horrible feeling that crept into Leo’s mind in the dead of night, in those moments he was all alone with no one to soothe away the fear, that he was the odd man out. That one day Finn and Logan would realize that they didn't need him, because they already had a foundation to build on. 

“I love you guys so fucking much,” he breathed, and felt Logans arms tighten around him. Finn smiled and leaned in, pressing closer gently until they were so close they were breathing the same air. 

“D’accord, d’accord,” Logan mumbled into his shoulder, he breathed in deeply then continued, “no more sad for tonight.” 

“I think I can get on board with that,” Leo said with a chuckle.

“Same,” Finn agreed before finally pulling away. 

Leo grinned and padded back to the other side of the kitchen where he had left ingredients for dinner strewn across the counter, “Well, do you guys want to help me make dinner then?” 

“Le, my precious Peanut Butter, I need you to understand this;” Finn said seriously, “just because we have grown emotionally does not mean our skills in the kitchen have improved in the slightest.”

“Well yeah, and they never will if you don’t let me teach you,” Leo teased, snagging a dish towel and snapping Finn in the thigh. 

Logan laughed at Finn's pout as he rubbed the welt now forming and jumped down from the counter, “Alright Nutty, teach us your ways, impart your vast cooking wisdom upon us.” 

Leo rolled his eyes at their dramatics but set them to work nonetheless. Finn was tasked with peeling potatoes, with a stern warning from Leo about slicing off his finger. As he was prepping the meat, Leo glanced over at Logan who seemed to be having far too much fun smashing the crackers to make a breading. He couldn't help but grin as he felt warm affection rush through his veins, like he had injected pure love directly into his bloodstream. Leo couldn't wait to feel this for the rest of his life, to build and grow with them, and love them for as long as humanly possible. 

It wasn't long before their kitchen was filled with laughter, and banter, and music played over the bluetooth speakers. The three of them worked in tandem, until the delicious aroma of home cooked food was wafting through their apartment. And so what if Finns mashed potatoes were a bit soupy, and what if the veggies Logan chopped were a bit uneven, it was something that they created together, Leo wanted to savor every bite. 

#lumosinlove #coast to coast #sweater weather #inspired by coast to coast #inspired by sweater weather #coast to coast fic #sweater weather fic #O'Knutzy #Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #FinnLo #Harvard pining but with comfort #domestic fluff #needed fluff after that art Haz hit us with today #here is our humble offering

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ too scared to say ]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader

word count: 1.6k words

contains: slight angst, tsukishima with insecure!s/o cause he’s usually the insecure one in fics, another wedding-themed fic

a/n: had this idea for a while and i’m glad i’ve finally written it. it’s usually tsukki’s who’s insecure and guarded in xreader fics so i wanted to try it out with the reader being insecure this time

i love you.

you're caught off-guard when you hear the words from tsukishima's mouth. you never thought you'd ever hear him actually say them. as much you wished for it to happen, especially after you spent three years of high school doodling his name in the margins of your notebook, it feels too good to be true.

tsukishima looks sincere about it though. you're both seated on the couch in your apartment and even though it's pouring outside and the electricity had died, you can still make out his face in the dim lighting. you can tell it took him a great deal of effort to say that: his eyes are focused on the cushion on his lap as he picks at a stray thread, the sound of his breathing is more audible now as he inhales deeply.

this is the time where you say it back but the words catch themselves in your throat. after all, weren't you the one who got yourself into trouble for being too naive all the time? after leaving high school and all hopes of tsukishima ever liking you back behind, you tried your hand at relationships. you thought every single one of them would be your last, only to find that you had deluded yourself yet again.

meeting tsukishima again, years after high school, felt like a weird universal coincidence that you didn't know if you should thank for yet. even more so when he admitted to his feelings for you back then.

"so, what do we do about it now?" you asked.

"i'd... like to give this a shot," tsukishima said, rubbing the back of his head. you were reluctant, but agreed anyway.

you've said 'i love you' before, more than a few times. and yet, you couldn't say it now.

"aren't you... jumping to conclusions a bit?" you asked, nervously letting out a laugh.

"what do you mean?" tsukishima frowns slightly.

"just, saying that you might not be sure about that yet so... slow down a bit before saying things like that," you shrugged.

"what? you think i don't know my own feelings?" tsukishima scoffs. there's a look of hurt on his face and you can't exactly blame him for it.

"i'm sorry, tsukki," you apologize, resting your hand in the middle of the couch between you except he doesn't reach for it.

"it's fine," he shakes his head, focusing now on the wall in front of him. "i know you're not really the person you once were and, i don't mind that at all cause neither am i. sometimes, it really feels like you have a wall up."

you find yourself flinching slightly at that last part. maybe this is the part when things go south, like they always do. except, you feel sad that it had to happen with tsukishima too.

but he doesn't act like how you expect him to. "if you need time, it's fine with me," is all he says. tsukishima doesn't sound exasperated, nor frustrated at all. but he does stand up and head for the door.

'you can stay,' you think, 'please stay.'

but all you can bring yourself to say is: "take an umbrella. it's pouring outside."

...

that was about a week ago and tsukishima has barely heard from you then. he didn't know what else to do aside from give you space, and also silently regret things. maybe he was too hasty in saying that he loved you.

but, that was what he truly felt, and it wasn't easy for him to say but he did it anyway. 'you're not always losing anything when you open yourself up to someone,' akiteru had told him. and now, tsukishima was riding a bus on the way to his older brother's wedding.

he had just hung his tux on the curtain rod above the window and settled into his seat though when he caught a familiar flash of blue. of course, tsukishima would recognize your favorite dress and sat up in his seat to see you walking down the center aisle. he watched as you looked around for a seat before landing on the last empty one in the bus, which happened to be right next to tsukishima's.

"hey."

"hey," tsukishima swallowed as you approached.

"is this seat taken?" you asked.

"no, go ahead," tsukishima shook his head, his eyes distracted by the familiar dry-cleaners bag that you held in your hands. "let me help you with that," he offered, taking the hanger from your hands and hanging it up beside his tux.

“saeko nee-san invited me to the wedding,” you explained as soon as you sat down beside tsukishima. “congratulations to your brother, by the way.”

“thanks. we all, kind of saw it coming,” tsukishima chuckled. now that you were here, he realized just how much he missed you. 

“i’m sorry for not calling or anything, by the way,” you apologized. “i can’t say that this is all new to me but, it’s just... well... i’ve been in other relationships before and sometimes, it feels like things repeat themselves too much.”

tsukishima nodded, remembering the night when you two met again after so many years. he was working the counter at the bar and noticed you sitting there, obviously dressed up for a date, obviously stood up in that said date too. you were very much different from the young girl who used to invite him and yamaguchi to watch the latest romance movie theaters, the one who sang songs at the top of your lungs in your bedroom, loud enough for those downstairs to here. but that didn’t mean he liked you any less. 

“hey,” he laid a hand on top of yours. “why don’t we just enjoy today? you still love going to weddings, right?”

you smiled gratefully and chuckled. “yeah, that hasn’t changed.”

...

you fully expected to run into tsukishima at his own brother’s wedding and had thought twice about going before talking sense into yourself. and now, you were glad to have gone. 

the wedding was absolutely charming and more than a few of your old high school friends came. you and tsukishima were seated with yamaguchi and yachi at the same table and chatted about old times and what the volleyball duo was up to. saeko looked stunning in her dress and akiteru cried more than a few times during the ceremony. tsukishima looked proud of his brother, and more than a little tired of his new brother-in-law.

“they look really good together,” you sighed, smiling at akiteru and saeko who were breakdancing in the middle of the dance floor, the latter doing much better than the former. 

“yeah,” tsukishima chuckled. “they barely met each other in high school but i could tell nii-chan was star-struck when they met at the shiratorizawa match.”

“and now look at them,” you giggled. “kind of the opposite of us, in a way.”

“yeah, because you were definitely head over heels for me,” tsukishima snickered. you smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

“and you were too dense to realize it,” you countered. 

“not exactly. just thought it was too good to be true,” tsukishima smiled wryly. 

“we should have been accidentally locked into a room together to force us to admit our feelings.” 

“you and your romance movie cliches.”

you chuckled at that. “just saying. would have made things way easier for everyone.” you sighed again and remembered the confession letter you had penned to tsukishima before deciding to stash it away in your desk. then, you turned to tsukishima who was watching his brother and sister-in-law dance. 

maybe you were going to enjoy yourself tonight.

“hey, tsukishima?”

“yeah?”

“wanna dance with me?”

...

with the dancing and frequent visits to the wine bar, you ended up enjoying the wedding immensely. but as much as you didn’t want to, it was finally time to go home. you and tsukishima didn’t even bother changing out of your formal clothes before catching the last bus back home. your hair had escaped from its pins and you were definite that there was mascara smudged under your eye. tsukishima’s tie hung loosely around his neck and he had already unbuttoned the upper part of his shirt.

all of the dancing tired him out way more than you, but it was a pleasant surprise for him to comply with your request. you also had the wine to thank for tsukishima deciding to break dance for about a minute when his older brother asked him to. 

as soon as he was seated, tsukishima was out like a light with his head leaned back against the seat and his mouth slightly hanging open. looking at him, you realized that he was someone you didn’t want to let go. dating him was scarier because of that and you didn’t want tsukishima to be one of those people you were eventually going to say goodbye to.

but how could he be that person if you don’t ask him to stay in the first place?

once again, you remembered the confession letter that you had wrote to him all those years ago. there was a tremble in your hand when you wrote down the last line of that letter, so much that it screwed up the writing and you decided not to send the letter anyway. you glanced at tsukishima’s misty reflection in the fogged up glass of the bus before using your finger to write down that line.

i love you

the words looked like they were suspended in the air and fragile enough to be blown away by the wind. with a swipe of your hand, you could easily erase the message.

and that’s when tsukishima wakes up. 

his sleepy eyes travel from you to the message written on the window and his eyes widen when he realizes what you’ve written down. with a smile, he leans over, and writes a word right under your message.

i love you too

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

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#haikyuu!! #hq x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima #haikyuu!! angst #hq!! angst #haikyuu!! fluff #hq!! fluff #haikyuu!! drabble #hq!! drabble #haikyuu!! one-shot #hq!! one-shot #haikyuu!! writing #hq!! writing

[belovasangel]

Kintsugi

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!GN!Reader

WC: 1641

Summary: Peter needs a push to help an old ally.

Warnings: Swearing, ANGST, hopeful ending

A/N: First off, thank you for reading this. I haven’t written in maybe a year so this might be not the best. I want to shout out Polaroid15 for inspiring me to write. Something else in this fic I should mention, Peter’s identity isn’t exposed and in the Blip he aged according to current-time (so in this he is 18-19)

“In Japanese culture, Kintsugi is the reformative art to repair broken pottery. The shattered pieces are taken and glued back together with a binding agency and gold paint. There is a metaphor between each crack and gold stroke, as the meaning is deeper than restoring a pot. It’s meant to give hope and to empower those who are deemed ‘broken.’ The point is to tell people to embrace their insecurities and you will be okay in the end.”

Peter Parker rolled his eyes and looked back at his notes. The background film of his art history course droned on, as the school stuck the Blipped students into a course to graduate faster. He began to doodle along the sides of the pages, drawing the Spider-Man suit and a few webs. He thought of Ned, sitting on his MIT campus, working on his computer engineering software, and hoped he was thinking of Peter as well. Him and Ned made a pact back in freshman year to attend MIT together and when the Blip hit, Ned kept his promise. And at this rate, Peter will be in their dorm room by March. 

He looked back up at the lecture briefly to watch the credits roll, only to notice afterwards the teacher had fallen asleep at the desk. The other students got the same idea to pack up and leave for the weekend early. Peter began stuffing his notes in his backpack and stood to walk out, only to bump into a fast body.

“Hey-” 

Peter looked up, his backpack falling to the floor in a heavy heap. He looked up angrily, fully expecting Flash to be staring back, however he saw the red-faced (Y/N) staring back with doe eyes. “Peter, I am so sorry...” 

He huffed and shoved (Y/N) back with his shoulder to grab his stuff. “You can leave, ya know? Don’t need to watch me pick up the mess you made.” He audibly heard them gulp and quicken their breathing. With a quick shuffle, they walked out of the class. Peter stood quickly and recalled the events leading to their icy encounter. He can feel sympathetic towards them, as Mr. Stark passed away tragically about a year ago. While Peter has come to terms painfully with his death, he can tell (Y/N) still is struggling. He knows they had a plan to attend Yale or Stanford after this, but those plans have derailed fully. Peter knew (Y/N) wasn’t fully ready to accept they need to grow up and move on. He wouldn’t be the one to put gasoline on an already erupting fire. Hopefully Pepper can say something

He began walking down the halls of the school, remembering the small memories along the halls. Lifting the lockers during Homecoming to get his suit, him and Ned discussing the plans to build the Death Star, and even when MJ first opened her locker next to the two (and immediately asked, “what are you two losers looking at?”). Fond, fond memories. 

Peter hopped on the subway, getting minorly excited to begin patrolling the city. May has plans tonight, he hopes it’s a date so he can spy once or twice, but overall it’s sitting on buildings and eating those amazing subs. The moment Peter stepped into the apartment, May was on him. “Hey, my beautiful boy genius, how was school?”

He laughed as she kissed and pinched his cheeks. “Hey May. It was fine, boring. How are you, need any date prep?” She turned bright red and looked back to the newspaper. “Peter, I told you it’s not a date. Happy and I are-”

“Your date is with Happy?” Peter popped his backpack to the floor with a quick thump. May gave a sheepish look, fully expecting this from him. “Peter I promise you, Happy is super kind and is going to treat me great tonight.”

He sighed, pulling at his hair minorly. “Do I need to chaperone you?” She laughed and shook her head, “we’ll be fine Pete. Anyways, to change the subject, Pepper called you earlier and asked for you to swing by the Tower when you get a chance.” Peter nodded, head still foggy with holy fuck, Happy is going to get with my Aunt.

He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and ran to his room, changing into his suit and flopping out the window. Within the first few hours, Peter stopped three guys from breaking into cars, saved a cat from a tree and rescued an old lady from oncoming traffic. As the sun was setting, and Peter got to enjoy the sunset with his sub, he decided to call Pepper.

“Hey Pep, what’s going on?”

He could hear her sigh on the other side, and he took a bite in anticipation. “I need your help Peter. And I know you won’t like it.” With a mouthful of spinach, salami and bread, he said muffled, “you can count on me.”

“I need you to help (Y/N).” Peter promptly spit his sub out of his mouth with a sharp cough and inhale. “What? What’s wrong?” Pepper sighed again. “(Y/N) isn’t okay. They’re only leaving their room for school and that’s it. I deliver them breakfast and dinner, we barely talk between the doors. Plus they come home late every night and I need to know what’s going on.”

Peter bit his inner cheek. Of course (Y/N) is being selfish towards Pepper, seems about right. Peter felt like this was a sign, to finally see what’s going on and help Pepper reconnect with her kid. Yet, Peter didn’t want to give (Y/N) any slack. They’re being rude and not grateful for what they have. “Of course, Pepper. I’ll keep you posted. Does K.A.R.E.N. have her location?”

“No, she turned off her location a while ago. Thank you Peter.” He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see. With a quick end, he threw the mask on and dove off the crane. He searched every alley in all of Queens, ever corner store, checked every rooftop and park and bridge and under every car. He found a huge ass tree and even climbed it. Peter didn’t want to let Pepper down, even if he felt more and more annoyed with (Y/N). He knew they wouldn’t leave the city, but this was getting ridiculous. Eventually, around 11:30 P.M., he found them sitting in front of a large mural of Tony. There were flowers along the painting, along with lit candles and teddy bears. Peter felt his blood boiling, knowing they could have had their location on this whole time. 

“What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)? Pepper is besides herself worried. You’re being so fucking selfish, leaving her alone every damn night. She is suffering, wondering why her own child won’t talk to her while you’re out here hiding! What are you scared of? Why can’t you grow up? He died! Get over it!”

Peter creeped up closer and closer to them, not listening to the sniffling and heaving breaths of (Y/N). As he reached them, he saw they were hunched over and panting. “What’s wrong? Get up,” Peter sneered as he pulled their shoulder back. He let out a gasp and let go, in complete shock of what he saw. Their face was littered with bruises and cuts. Their right eye was completely swollen and the under eye bags were as dark as the sky. “Are you okay?”

They scoffed and pushed away Peter’s hand, and struggled to get off the ground. Many groans and gasps were shed as they stood slouched. Peter quickly noticed the large gash on their side, and he could tell they were severely injured. “We need to get you to the tower right now, c’mon.” 

As he got closer, (Y/N) stumbled back to avoid his touch. Peter scoffed and tried to reach again, but with the same result. “Stop being stupid and let me help you.” They stopped and let out a large laugh. “Now you fucking care about me, when it will make you look good. I can just imagine Pepper telling me how great and caring you are, and how brave you were to go searching for their lost child. Fuck off with this savior complex, Peter, you can’t save everyone! Some people were meant to suffer and burn and fucking die in the end.”

Peter had never felt so confused in his life. He tried reaching out for the third time and was shut down. They began to walk towards him, fire and tears in their eyes. “Do you have any idea how much fucking pain I feel every day? When my father died, Pepper and I were so shattered, but instead of staying with family she decided to work with you, the great and friendly Spider-Man! Why help your own kin when the prodigy is doing just as bad? I am so sick of living in your shadow Peter! It’s like the universe is telling me I was a mistake! You ruined my life. You are the reason my father is dead. You are the reason I wish it was me instead!”

They fell to their knees in agony, letting out screaming sobs and pained sounds. He quickly recovered, wiping his own tears to comfort them. “I am so sorry (Y/N), I am so so sorry.” Peter put his hands under their arms and lifted them into his arms, as fast as he could go to avoid another lash out. He began to swing them back, and in a quiet voice, (Y/N) whispered into his neck. “Why wasn’t it me, Peter?”

And in that moment, Peter realized that some people need help being put back together. Maybe Kintsugi isn’t so dumb after all.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter x reader #spider-man #peter parker x gender neutral #peter parker gender neutral #my fic

[yummysweetroll]

So cold, so Warm.

Butch's pipboy made a soft static sound. For a few days now, nothing connected in that frequency, not even a cry for help or even that annoying Sugarbombs advertisement, just silence ... And that was a bad sign, after all, it is an indication that there was no settlement or big city in the next few miles of road and all Anna wanted most on this cold night, was now to sleep in a bed with a frayed mattress from any inn.

See more here! ⤵⤵

The radio was still hissing when the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. The night fog still lingered, making it difficult to see while keeping everything chilly. Anna shivered with cold, trying to cover herself with the Tunnel Snakes jacket and scarf, while Butch buried his nose in his scarf and muttered under his breath. Thank heavens, for a few days ago they helped a family and they offered some warm clothing as a reward. Turning her arm a little, the girl checked her pip-boy, March 20, the first day of spring.

"Butch, today is the first day of spring!" -She commented trying to liven up the walk -

"Yeah? And ?!" - Butch replied back looking out of the corner of his eye-

“Sooo, I thought maybe, we'll feel less cold on the road… And they say it's time for flowers and birds.” - ignoring her road partner's initial bad mood-

“And what difference does that make now, Nosebleed? We are going north, it will get colder each day and there will be only snow! It is simple, or have you forgotten Broch's classes? Besides, do you think we will find some beautiful flowering field with birds and bees in this nuclear desolation? You're too naive "- He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed at Anna-" If it weren't for your idiocy of wanting to compensate for the Tin Brotherhood, we could be in Rivet City, in that warm room.

Anna snorted, of course she remembered the annoying geography lessons! She also remembers the conversations the two had, about the world outside the Vault and the times they received punishments for talking about it ... And now that they're being able to make everything real and make all the punishments count, he wants to keep his butt in that rusty bathtub? In a place that resembles and feels the same claustrophobic feeling that was the vault? Besides, why flying so many grumpy words at her? Was the cold her fault? Didn't he understand how much debt she owed to the Brotherhood of Steel? They saved her!

"Shut up! If you wanted to be comfortable so much, then you should have stayed in the Vault. Sure you would be warm and living the same life! You came because you wanted to, I didn't ask to follow me. I just thought that… ”- The girl's voice gave a little hesitation and a lump in her throat was installed, along with some tears-“ Damn it, Deloria! ”

Butch opened his mouth to retort, but before he even said anything, Anna stepped up and disappeared into the mist. The boy stopped walking and called her a few times, but there were no answers. What did he do this time? His mind ran through his last sentences, did Anna think he regretted accompanying her? Does she think it's her fault for things going wrong? He had no doubts about that.

"Moron." -That was the only word that crossed Butch's head as he advanced through the fog after the girl. Since when she completed her father's project and woke up in the Brotherhood hospital, after that radiation bath and thank God with all her hair on her head, Anna started to blame herself for many things, be it the death of her father, the other scientists and even for the coma that the blond soldier finds himself in - "You idiot."

Turning off the Pip-boy, Butch managed to follow the small sounds of sobbing and it didn't take long to find the crouching girl crying behind a rut.

"Anna." - Butch called her seriously. And the way the girl's green eyes looked back at him, it looked like he wasn't expecting that. "Anna, are you going to tell me what's going on or are you playing hard to get?"

The girl swallowed her cry, and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the tip of her scarf.

“II, B-Butch .... There is so much going on, so much problems that I have to solve and that almost always ends with someone I like injured or… dead. It is being difficult and too heavy to handle alone. - She paused to get her thoughts in order, Butch did not move or spoke in fear that she would stop talking - “And I don't want this anymore, I don't want to have to take responsibility for others, I don ' t want to decide the future of the world anymore. But I do everything the same, I don't change anything ... You're right to want to make up for it, and look at us now, it's really my fault that we're in this situation, for being away from home, for being hungry and cold, for having this stupid mission. Sorry Butch, I also wanted to be in River City ... But I also wanted to be on the road with you by my side, discovering and making all those detentions we took for dreaming about being here worthwhile. I'm sorry if I got you involved in my problems again. -She finished lowering her eyes again-

She let it all out, almost without pause. Her eyes cried again and Butch crouched down beside her and stroked her head. He sighed and as he put together a sentence, thoughts of her traveled a bit to when they lived in the vault. Since childhood, Butch had to deal with an Anna who lived under pressure to do what society or her father expected, always smiling and as if she were happy ... even if it was totally contrary to what she wanted and believed, And every time those tearful green eyes came to meet him, the boy did exactly as he did now, let her vent (even if he didn't hear much of the complaint) and stroked her head.

It is unknown how long the two stayed there, but it was long enough for Butch to think about something, the sobs to stop and all that morning fog to dissipate.

“Thank you,” replied Anna quietly, still buried in the scarf.

Butch smiled as he took Anna's hand and held it up. He knew that his "tough guy" pose was almost always undone when he saw her crying face ... After all, she was always his best friend and all that silly nonsense that the woman who married the priest comments on about soul mate.

“It's ok, Crybaby. Of course, I was mad at the cold, you know I hate cold ... But I'm glad I came with you, I learned a few things and met a lot of nice people. Besides, that's what I… sorry, we always wanted to do it! - Then he left his tender voice, to bring his traditional debauchery voice - And of course I couldn't leave an idiot like you alone here ... That's what I'm here for, because I can do a lot of things, shoot , stab, make you start to cry and stop and… ”

“Butchieeeee, you always destroy that romantic climate” - interrupted the girl with giggles, pushing him - And you always complain that I'm not "romantic enough".  

Butch smiled smugly, of course there was more that the boy wanted to say to her. But at that moment, it was enough, probably because she wouldn't be able to get rid of this burden so fast.

A strong wind hit them and with his free arm Butch protected her as she hugged him back. When they opened their eyes they realized that the last remnants of mist had disappeared, presenting them with an image that they had only seen in black and white in the films or in the biology books ... A green field dotted with colorful flowers with a few birds flying over them. The two exclaimed in awe as they watched the rare landscape.

"And that talk about not having a place like that ?." - Anna commented softly-

"Shut up." - Butch replied smiling.  

_____________________________________________________

Heey!

❤ Another drawing following the list of clothes and with a little story !! ❤

The truth is that this time it took me longer to write than to draw. 😥😥

Do you like posts like that? Do you think it's worth it?

That drawing came from this list!

✨ OC Outfit Doodle Asks ✨

I want to use this list to train poses, clothes and everything! So please, send an emoji from the list and I'll draw Butch and Anna!

#butch deloria #butch x lone wanderer #lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #Anna Maria #fallout OC #fallout 3 #fallout #Fallout Art #FO3 #FO3 OC #fallout fanart #Fanart #fallout fic #fanfic #OC #pipboy #cold temperature #warm heart

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 3

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2983 words, 3rd person POV

I'm just as surprised as you are that I'm cranking these out so fast. Thanks, NaNoWriMo!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

...

Saturday dragged so sluggishly for Jason as he waited impatiently to visit Lijah again. He spent the day stalking the outskirts of the camp, trying to watch Lijah as he worked. He was fascinated by Lijah's effect on others; it was clearly shown that it wasn't just Jason who was compelled to change behavior simply by listening to him. The kids loved him, and he was popular with the other counselors as well. Jason caught himself daydreaming a few too many times of being one of them and being able to spend the day with Lijah out in the open like they could.

During one of these moments, Jason stared off across the surface of the lake, the sunlight sparkling across the ripples in the water. He wondered what would have happened over a decade ago if Lijah had been at the camp with him...would the other kids have been enraptured by his presence and listened to him then? Would Jason and Lijah have become friends as quickly as children as they had as adults? Or was it their personal experiences that drew them together now and they were all the better for it?

"Enjoying the view?"

Jason spun to face the speaker, relieved it was only Lijah. Lijah laughed at his reaction and looked out across the lake to see what Jason was seeing.

"It is gorgeous out here, isn't it?" he sighed, his expression dreamy, "I've worked at a few different camps over the years but I think Crystal Lake is my favorite."

Jason's heart still pounded in his chest, despite the surprise having worn off. Why was he so nervous to stand here next to Lijah like this? Did the others feel this way around him too?

"Oh, hey!" Lijah said suddenly, pointing down at the nearest dock where two campers and another counselor stood, "That's Terry and Kira over there with Julie. Kira was bullying Terry since day one of camp, saying she looked ratty and pushing her down - you know, stupid kid insults like that. Terry didn't want to be a tattletale, so she wouldn't say who was picking on her, even though we all knew. The director has a rule that we can't interfere unless the kids come forward so we were stuck for a little while. The other counselors and I came up with a detective game to make Kira realize she was doing something wrong and hurtful and she came forward on her own yesterday to admit it. She's been doing great today at making up with Terry and I think they'll be friends really soon. It's so cool what a little positive reinforcement can do."

Lijah crossed his arms over his chest and gazed proudly out at the two kids, but Jason couldn't stop staring at Lijah. What was it he was feeling right now? Impressed at his ability to handle bullies in a way that the counselors when he was a child never could, certainly, but what else? What was it about Lijah that made Jason want to throw his machete in the lake and never hurt anyone again?

"What's up?" Lijah asked, noticing Jason staring at him, "Did I say something wrong?"

Jason shook his head, but could not tear his eyes away. Lijah had his hair tied back today, pulling it off of his neck and away from his face. There was sweat around his hairline, sticking strands of hair to him in tiny swirls and lines. His freckles were more pronounced in the daylight, and his tanned skin almost glowed, even in the shade of the trees. To Jason, this view was much more appealing than the lake.

"Alrighty then," Lijah said, shrugging it off, "Anyway, I just wanted to say hi since I saw you hanging around up here, but I gotta get back to my group. I'm seeing you tonight, right?"

Jason nodded fervently, excited by every second he got to spend with Lijah. Lijah smiled broadly and waved as he set off back to the camp.

"See you later, Jase!" he called.

Jason gave a small wave back, his stomach full of butterflies. He decided he didn't care why he was feeling this way or what it was about Lijah he liked so much. He felt immeasurably and inexplicably happy for the first time in a long time and he didn't want to overthink it. After all, wasn't that what his mother wanted for him?

-------------------------------------------------

Jason returned to cabin 5 that evening a little earlier than planned. The sun had set, but the sky was still relatively light and the camp was winding down from the day. Jason looked through the bedroom window, but Lijah was not in there yet. He tested the window to see if it was unlocked, and to his luck, it was. He checked his surroundings to ensure no one would see him struggle to squeeze through the narrow opening. It was embarrassing enough that Lijah had to see it last night. The coast was clear, so Jason pushed himself into the bedroom, nearly getting stuck in the process. Once inside, he straightened up and closed the window so bugs would not get in. It struck him as he looked around that he was in Lijah's private room alone.

A little snooping couldn't hurt, right? Jason allowed his eagerness to drive his actions as he explored Lijah's room. He first looked in the dresser drawers to see what other clothes Lijah had besides his work shirts and shorts. From the brief snoop, it seemed that Lijah liked light, muted colors and pants with deep pockets. He also seemed to be a fan of chunky bracelets and wristbands, probably to camouflage and support his delicate wrists.

From there, Jason moved to the books on top of the dresser. Adventure novels, a couple college textbooks in the subjects Lijah had specified as his course of study, some notebooks, including the one Jason had used to communicate with last night, and one romance, all paperbacks that looked well used. Curious about the romance novel, Jason flipped through the pages. Mother never had these kinds of books at home, so he wasn't sure what to expect. His eyes fell upon a passage that described a kiss between the heroine and her strapping, yet emotionally manipulative love interest:

"...her cerulean orbs meeting his stormy grey ones in a passionate stare before their lips collided in a kiss so fiery, so full of desire, it would warm the hardened coals of even Wyatt's darkened heart. Charlie swooned into his massive arms, surrendering herself to his rough touch. Wyatt growled into the kiss, his stubble scratchy against her smooth face, but not unbearable. He gripped the back of her neck possessively, but Charlie knew it was part of his insecurity in that he never wanted to let her go. Funny, she thought before the intensity of the kiss forced her mind to become a blank slate of ecstasy, He won't talk about his abandonment issues, but I can feel them here in his kiss..."

Jason set the book down, frowning. Did Lijah really see himself in this Wyatt character? It didn't seem right, but it probably wasn't important. Jason turned instead to the notebooks, but they were mostly blank aside from sparse doodles, camp schedules, and Jason's shaky handwriting. He put the notebooks back where they were and opened the door to the rest of the cabin.

Across from this door was the door to the bathroom, but Jason didn't need that at the moment, so he ignored it and proceeded left down a short hallway to the living area. The hallway opened up to a tiny kitchen and dinette on the right and an ancient, faded couch with a rickety coffee table and an old antenna TV and VCR atop it. This area was not as bright and full of Lijah's personality as the bedroom was, but Jason figured that was to be expected. His own bedroom at home was a reflection of what few interests and hobbies he had. The bedroom was a sanctuary for the individual, and held a piece of their soul. At least, that's what a bedroom should be. Mother had told Jason all about the filthy, lecherous activities young people would get up to in bedrooms. Only a married couple should share a bed, she had told him. It was a sin otherwise.

Feeling slightly hungry, Jason made for the short refrigerator, needing to squat down to see its contents. A couple sandwiches wrapped in plastic occupied one shelf with a handful of apples on the lower shelf, some cans of soda on the door. Jason reached for one of each, hoping to finish them before Lijah returned to avoid accidentally showing him his face. He brought the food to the couch and sat down, his weight causing the seat to sink lower than it was meant to. He removed his mask and devoured the sandwich and apple as quickly as he could, feeling somewhat like a ravenous raccoon. He cracked open the soda can and chugged it, realizing too late that it was a bad idea to drink a carbonated beverage so fast. Bubbles surged up through his nose and he sputtered, covering his face so he did not spray soda everywhere. He coughed and gagged, but the feeling soon went away. He made a mental note to drink anything bubbly as slow as possible, but preferred the idea of never having soda again. It was too sweet for him anyway.

Finished with the meal, Jason located a small trash can at one end of the kitchen and disposed of the remains. He pulled his mask back on just as he heard the front door to the cabin open. He tensed, preparing for a fight, but it was Lijah, alone, who gave a start upon seeing Jason's towering figure in his living room.

"Oh gosh, you got me again!" he cried out, laughing nervously, "You're here early."

Jason nodded once and watched as Lijah locked up and set down the pack he was carrying near the door.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, a tiredness in his voice that worried Jason. Would he be able to stay up tonight? Did he stay up too late last night? Jason shook his head and pointed to the refrigerator, silently telling Lijah he had found the food. Lijah yawned.

"Oh, good," he said, shuffling towards the bedroom, "Sorry, I'm a little worn out from today. We can still hang out, but I might crash a little earlier than last night if that's okay."

Jason nodded and followed him. Lijah turned to the dresser and tilted his head at the stack of books.

"You checked out the romance novel?" he asked, disbelief in his voice, "Huh, didn't see that one coming. It's not very good, but it was free, so I figured why not, y'know?"

So Lijah didn't choose that book for the plot, Jason realized. That made much more sense. Lijah opened the drawers and retrieved a stack of clothes, brushing by Jason to head to the bathroom.

"You can relax in the bedroom if you want for about fifteen minutes while I shower," he said, stifling another yawn, "I'll try to get my bedtime routine done quick so we have some time together."

Jason had no problem with waiting for him to prepare for bed. He was happy just to be in the same building with him and not anxiously wonder where he was like before. Jason sat on the edge of the bed, having grabbed the notebook and pencil he'd used yesterday in preparation for the conversation he would be having tonight. He heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, and an unwelcome thought of what Lijah looked like in there sprung into Jason's mind. Startled by this, Jason shook himself. What was he thinking? His mother's warning about college aged young adults surfaced and he wondered, horrified, if these thoughts would consume his brain like the counselors he'd killed or if he could fight them and keep his head clear and pure. What would happen to him if he couldn't get rid of them?

Jason struggled with this fear until the sound of the water stopped and he heard Lijah moving around in the bathroom. He squeezed the edges of the notebook to ground himself. What would Mother say if she knew what he was thinking about? Realistically, she would probably forbid him from coming back here and have him read Bible passages until the thoughts went away. Mother knew what was best for Jason.

Lijah entered the room once he was done in the bathroom, his hair still damp and his cheeks slightly flushed from the steam. He wore a loose fitting navy blue t-shirt with an unfamiliar logo on the chest and green plaid boxers. He brought with him a wonderful, clean scent of shampoo and mint flavored toothpaste. Jason wrote on a fresh page of the notebook,

"feel better?"

Lijah hummed in agreement, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders softly popped.

"Nothing like a hot shower to take the day off and get you ready for bed," he said, climbing up onto the mattress next to Jason, "How's your day been?"

Jason thought about it, but didn't want to be too honest that he had pretty much just been waiting all day for this meeting. He wrote,

"did alot of walking. liked what u said about the bully. ur really good with kids."

Lijah waved him off modestly.

"Aw, that wasn't just me," he replied sheepishly, "I can't take all the credit. All of us counselors worked together on that. They're a good group of people. I'm glad I got the chance to work with them."

Jason tilted his head to one side, his interest piqued by this statement. So all the counselors were good, not just Lijah? Would Jason even need to kill anyone this year, or had the nightmare of wicked counselors finally ended? He wondered what his life would become if he didn't come here to kill every summer. It would probably be much like last year, quiet and content with his mother, having everything they needed and just going day to day, living the life she built for them. But Jason knew he couldn't live that life now. He wanted his life to include his new friend, and he wasn't sure how he could do that, with Lijah going back to college at the end of the summer and moving into an apartment somewhere probably far away.

Lijah tilted his head to mirror Jason and catch his attention.

"What's on your mind, big guy?" he asked. Jason considered his next few words and decided to avoid the topic. He wrote,

"u said u had a sister rite? tell me about her?"

Lijah's entire face lit up with a huge smile and his joy was so infectious, Jason couldn't resist matching the expression.

"Phoebe!" he exclaimed, "She's the best little sister anyone could hope for. We're thirteen years apart, so I'm pretty protective of her, and it was really hard for me to go away to college and leave her behind. I call home once a week and send her letters every month of cool stuff I've learned or seen. She likes bugs and dolls and dinosaurs. Our parents won't let her see Jurassic Park though - that's a scary movie about dinosaurs - but I think she can handle it. She's a tough kid. Definitely way tougher than I was at her age. I used to get beat up in school for being, uh, different."

Jason felt a surge of protectiveness for Lijah, though he didn't know who had hurt him. How could anyone even want to hurt someone like Lijah? He curled his fingers into the bedspread, fists shaking with anger. Lijah noticed and addressed it,

"Hey, it was years ago; don't worry about it! Besides, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'd rather solve my problems with communication than violence."

Jason nodded and forced himself to relax. What was he going to do anyway? Find the bullies and kill them even though they probably haven't been anywhere near Lijah in years? Stupid. Jason tried to explain his thoughts by writing,

"sorry bullies make me real mad. i got bullied to."

Lijah offered a sympathetic look. He moved a hand towards Jason, but rethought the action and stopped, biting his lip.

"I bet they wouldn't mess with you now though!" he said instead, trying to look at the bright side, "I bet they'd take one look at how tall and muscular you got and run away. The machete helps too."

Jason grimaced under the mask. That probably wouldn't be the only reason they ran away...Still, Lijah meant well and he couldn't blame him for trying. It was more effort than anyone had put in before, and that was worth something.

-------------------------------------------------

The conversation continued for a short while, but Lijah soon began nodding off. In one of their quiet moments, Jason looked over and saw Lijah slumped on his pillows, sound asleep. Jason sighed and took that as his cue to leave. He rose from the bed and set down the notebook on the dresser. He looked back at Lijah, bemused by his awkwardly scrunched limbs and his face pressed unflatteringly into the pillows, before turning off the light and leaving through the window to let him sleep.

It was moments like these that Jason was beginning to dislike his heightened energy levels during night time. It worked great for serial killing, but not so much for spending time with a friend. But he was beginning to have a hope and some confidence that things would work out and that he and Lijah would find some sort of rhythm together.

#friday the 13th fanfiction #friday the 13th #jason voorhees #canon/oc #slasher fanfiction #slashers #argo fic

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15

new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!

From: itsdjbubbles

My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.

Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.

It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.

Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”

Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.

Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.

Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.

Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.

At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “

“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.

…Was there?

By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.

He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.

Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.

He thinks.

Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.

This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.

Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.

Both. It’s probably both.

Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.

Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.

With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.

To: Marinette hey. it’s luka.

And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.

For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.

To: Marinette sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.

To: Marinette anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.

Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.

From: itsdjbubbles Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.

From: Marinette hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?

Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”

To: Marinette wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.

you really weren’t kidding, huh.

Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.

From: Marinette course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.

and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.

anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.

Keep me posted about your band!

♥️

There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.

A... lot of transactions.

That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.

Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.

To: itsdjbubbles Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.

or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.

Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.

From: itsdjbubbles wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.

CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*

ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #endgame lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #and we're back to luka being a total mess. #how are you? i hope you're well 💙💖🎶

[ezrasarm]

take what’s broken, make it whole

[ day 4 | angstageddon masterlist ]

pairing: Marcus Pike x reader

summary: Love. It’s messy and confusing. It’s painful yet thrilling. It’s also absolutely terrifying. But maybe what you need is someone to brave your fears with you.

warnings: mild angst, hurt/comfort, fear of commitment/relationships

"a/n”: THIS WAS WRITTEN BY THE WICKEDLY TALENTED @chaotic-noceur!!! I am posting it here with permission from the original author. Please go check out her posts and give them some love!

Actual a/n: this piece hits very close to home for all 3 of us so we hope it could bring you the same sort of comfort that it did us 💕💕- @chaotic-noceur

credits: shout out to my loves @din-damn-djarin and @ezrasarm for beta reading and being absolute sweethearts about me being a disaster! very loose references to Come Home With Me from Hadestown. - @chaotic-noceur

Gif by @pedropascalito

The whispers of Special Agent Marcus Pike’s failed love affairs had spread like wildfire as soon as his transfer had been confirmed. Men and women alike were eager to meet the broken man who had fallen too hard, too fast. Instead, they were met with gentle smiles and a loving heart.

If the rumours were true, they did nothing to explain the hidden glimmer of hope in his eyes. If the office gossip held any weight, it did nothing to explain the deep-seated warmth in his aura. If the hearsay was anything more than it claimed to be, it did everything to explain the masked sadness that threatened his every move.

He wasn’t like any man you’ve met. You watched him with quiet curiosity.

Several weeks later, you had found yourself partnered with the office enigma. Within a month, the pair of you had fallen into a comfortable routine of early morning coffee trips and late-night takeout meals.

There was something about him that made you want to let down your guard, to unveil the parts of you that were fractured and broken. But he didn’t need to know of the pieces of you that weren’t quite whole.

So you lie.

You lie when he asks the difficult questions. You lie when he nudges at the splintered fragments. You lie as you have been trained to do all those years ago.

Your little traditions, if you could even call them that, had slowly wound their way into becoming an integral part of your day. You hadn’t even realised just how habitual they had become until he’d left for an undercover mission.

In the early days of his departure, you’d catch yourself flicking through delivery menus before remembering that your partner wasn’t there. You’d find yourself instinctively making the turn to his apartment on your way to work. You’d send him messages of things he’d find funny only to be met with a mocking grey tick.

You missed him. And you couldn’t explain why.

●●●●

This wasn’t his first undercover mission, but this one felt different… and he couldn’t explain why.

As the mission progressed, the desire to call you and talk to you about everything and nothing grew with every passing day. He’d catch himself longing for your occasional Starbucks trips where you’d conspire about the poorly spelt names on your cups. He’d find himself missing the way you’d laugh at all his jokes, no matter how bad. He saw your face in the crowd of strangers even though he knew you weren’t there.

He missed you. And he couldn’t explain why.

When he’s reunited with you once again, he thinks he’s figured it out. The more time the two of you spend together, the more he's convinced that there's something between the two of you. He’s hesitant to put a label on it, after everything he’s been through. Still, he knows it isn’t nothing. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before and he wants to pursue it. But he needs his instincts to be right this time. He’s not ready to face the alternative.

So, he pushes his feelings away. He shoves them into the darkest corners of his mind where its destructive claws can shred them like they had his dreams.

Months go by before thoughts of his feelings for you resurface. He catches you doodling on a napkin with the straw from your drink and he can’t help but fall. Deep down, he knows that it’s a bad idea, but there’s an affectionate lilt to your smile that makes his heart falter and he knows he’s in trouble.

You’re stowing pieces of evidence into their respective locations when he’s overcome with an overwhelming urge to tell you how he feels. He isn’t sure if it's the lack of sleep or the residual successful-arrest adrenaline that makes him throw caution to the wind, but he pops the question before his sudden spur of confidence leaves him. Your shoulders tense as you turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in shock.

“I-what?” you stammered, uncertain if you’d misheard him.

“I asked if you’d like to get dinner sometime?” He feels his heart hammering against his chest. “If you don’t want to, it’s cool, we’re cool.” He raises his arms in defence. “But what we have-” he takes a step closer as he gestures to the space between you, “this feels...different.” He lets his arms fall and he crosses his fingers behind his back.

He doesn’t consider himself a religious man. But in the here and now, he’s praying to anything out there listening that the answer he gets is a yes.

Your breath hitches at his sudden outburst. The wishful twinge in his voice and hopeful glimmer in his eyes makes your heart clench in your chest. It baffles you that a man with his experience was still so willing to wear his heart on his sleeve. You almost admire that about him. Almost.

“That’s- I-” you clear your throat awkwardly as you search for the right words. “I’m flattered Marcus, but I’m not really looking for anything right now.” Your voice grows quieter with each word, as though the strength of your voice would lessen the force of your words.

You watch in silent agony as the corners of his eyes dip downwards at the rejection. The way he forces a smile to hide the wave of disappointment that crashes into him makes your stomach churn. It takes all your self-control not to reach out for him, to take back your words and spare him the pain. But you can’t do that to him. You can’t give him false hope for a future you don’t want.

For as long as you’ve known him, he’s never shied away from questions about his past. He’d told you about his failed marriage, the broken engagement and everything in between. He’d told you about the life he had wanted and the future he’d pictured. It was the fairytale life that every child dreamt of having.

Every child except you.

You don’t know what exactly it is that you want, but you know one thing. Marriage? Starting a family? That's not you. It never has been and it never will be. The future that Marcus so desperately wants, the happily-ever-after that he’s risked so much for… it’s never going to be something you can give him.

So you push him away. You push him away even when every fibre of your body screams for you to pull him close, to take the pain away. You push him away because he deserves someone who can make all his dreams come true. Someone who isn’t broken like you...

“I’m sorry. You’re a great guy Marcus and I’m sure-” You take a hesitant step towards him but stop in your tracks when he withdraws from you.

“No, no. Don’t be. It’s fine. Like I said, we’re cool. I- I understand.” And he does. He understands perfectly well. He understands that sometimes he comes off a little too strong, but it’s only because he wants to believe in true love. He understands that it’s wishful to think that he deserves another chance at love, that there is such a thing as soulmates. He understands that no matter how hard he tries, he never seems to be good enough.

In the months that follow his initial confession, his affections for you only seem to grow despite his best efforts. He knows that continuing down this path would only lead to more hurt. But in the moments when he thinks no one is looking, he allows himself to fall a little harder.

Why? He does not know. But he knows the following are true: you’re the person he wants to go on aimless adventures with because it isn’t about the destination but the journey. You’re the person whom he wants to be held by when the days are long and the night is dark. You’re the person that he wants to be able to call home. You’re the only person that’s ever made him feel so alive.

Little did he know, you felt the same way too.

You’re both sharing a box of ‘case-closed pizza’ while he tells you about this young artist he’d discovered online. There’s a softness in your eyes that sparks a fire in his gut. Something nags at him to ask you just one more time. He pushes the thought away. He knows it’s a stupid idea. But then you’re laughing at something he says and the question leaves his mouth before his brain can stop it.

“Give me a chance,” he says. “Please? Just one date.” You blink at him a few times, dumbfounded. He’s preparing an apology when you speak up.

“Marcus-” he hates the way you say his name like it’s a melody, “listen, I- I don’t-” you huff in frustration. You contemplate your options in your mind. He deserves to know the truth. You want him to know the truth. You just didn’t think it’d be this hard to say out loud.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I asked…” The defeat in his voice makes your stomach turn.

“It’s not you. I just- Well, okay it’s kind of you but it's mostly me.” You falter. “It’s definitely me.” You force yourself to look into his eyes before declaring what you’ve been afraid to say.

“The life that you picture in your future? The one where you’re happily married, maybe a couple of kids who drive you insane but-” you exhale sharply, masking your scoff, “you wouldn’t have it any other way because the love of your life is there with you? That’s not something I-” He’s looking at you with so much love and you have no idea what to do with it. It takes everything in you to not look away.

“That’s not something I want, ever. I don’t see myself getting married, or having kids, or -” you purse your lips as the thought occurs to you, “or loving someone so much that even when they break my heart, I want to hold them close in my arms so they can never leave.” Tears prick at your eyes and your voice falls to a whisper when you say, “I don’t know how to love and be loved back and the thought of it, I-” you gaze falls onto the half-empty box on the table. You can’t look him in the eyes when you admit it out loud for the first time, can’t look him in the eyes as you admit it to yourself.

“I’m terrified, Marcus.”

A lone tear rolls down your cheek and he brings a shaky hand up to wipe it away gently. He almost laughs at the irony. The man who loved too much is in love with one who loved too little. There’s a pain in his chest that feels almost like someone had driven a knife through his heart and twisted.

“I’m scared too,” his voice is soft as he speaks, as if he’s afraid that you’ll shatter at the sound. “I’ve let my heart be beaten, bruised and broken more times than I care to admit.” He sighs as he takes his hand in yours. “That life you think I picture? Maybe that’s what I wanted once but that's not who I am anymore.” He shakes his head gently as he tugs at your hand, drawing your gaze up to meet his. “After Teresa, I swore I’d never let anyone in again. I didn’t think I would survive the pain, but then you walked into my life and,” he gives you a crooked smile as he whispers, “something about you made me want to love again. So, if you’ll have me,” he brings his other hand up to cup your cheek, “it’d be an honour to have my heart broken by you.”

Tears are streaming openly down your face at his declaration. It never occurred to you that he was afraid too. He’d seemed so.. carefree. Despite all the heartbreak, he’d found the courage to put himself out there one more time, to let himself love one more time. It occurs to you then that maybe what you admire about him most wasn’t his ability to make you laugh when you felt like crying. Or the way he always knew when you needed a hug. It was that he made you want to look fear in the eye and say ‘not anymore’.

Slowly, you let your head fall into a nod. “I promise to be gentle.” He chuckles softly and he pulls you into his chest. You melt into his embrace and relish in his warmth. You feel a hopeful smile tug at the corner of your lip and you bury further into him.

Maybe part of loving means being afraid, together.

[ angstageddon masterlist | chaotic-noceur’s masterlist ]

——angstageddon tag list

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#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #angstageddon #angst week

[dirtydobrik]

fractured ankle - j.w.

plot: you break your ankle while on a hike with your boyfriend jeff and he wants to take care of you

word count: 1830

author’s note: sorry for not posting lately, i’ve had such bad writer’s block and didn’t like anything i was writing about david, so i decided to try something new and write about jeff! 

masterlist

“Baby, get up,” Jeff whispered, nudging you softly. He was standing over you, already dressed for the hike he wanted to take you on.

It was still dark outside and you blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the light of the bedside lamp Jeff had just turned on. You gave him a quick kiss and got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to get ready. You splashed cold water on your face to wake yourself up since you were never up this early, and the only reason you were was because Jeff had been begging you to come on an early morning hike to see the see the sunrise for a while now.

You brushed your teeth and changed into leggings and a sports bra before meeting Jeff in the kitchen. He was filling water bottles and gave you a small smile before tossing you a protein bar to eat before leaving. Jeff tossed the water bottles and a few other snacks into his backpack before glancing at the time on his phone and insisting that you had to leave in the next few minutes. You sat on the floor near the front door and tightly tied the laces of your sneakers, reaching your hand up for Jeff to help you up. He rolled his eyes at you, but took your hand in his and pulled you up.

You followed him downstairs and hopped into the passenger seat of his SUV. The roads were empty as darkness still covered the city. Jeff placed his hand on the gear shift and you rested yours on top of his. The stillness of the city was something you hardly ever saw, but it was comforting.

After a short drive, you pulled into the parking lot of the trail Jeff wanted to take you on. You got out of the car and followed Jeff's instructions of basic stretches to do to warm up before hiking.

Much to your dismay, the hike was a lot harder and steeper than Jeff had promised it would be. The path was windy and the plants were overgrown, leaving it narrow and difficult to navigate in the dim light.

Jeff was walking in front of you, and you carefully followed his steps. The steep dirt path had many large rocks that seemed to appear out of nowhere. You tried to focus on following Jeff's exact steps to avoid the rocks, but you lost your footing trying to avoid one. You stumbled backwards and fell over the large rock you had tried to avoid a few moments ago. Your left ankle got caught underneath you and you heard a loud snap as all of your body weight landed on your ankle. You yelped in agony as you tried to stand up before collapsing back on to the ground and grabbing your ankle in pain. Jeff was a few feet in front of you, but your screams gained his attention.

“Baby, are you alright?” Jeff asked, concerned as he sprinted over to you. His face went pale as he noticed the swelling around your foot. You clutched your ankle, sobbing from the immense pain.

“It hurts,” you whined, tears streaming down your face. "It really hurts."

“It’ll be okay,” Jeff promised, untying your sneaker and pulling it off. He pushed the hem of your leggings up to expose the ankle. You took in a sharp breath and felt nauseous looking at the bruising around your foot.  

He searched through his backpack for an ice pack or an elastic bandage in his first aid kit, but had neither. He handed you a water bottle that had ice cubes in it and told you to take them out and wrap them in his t-shirt to hold against the swelling.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asked, even though he knew it was most likely broken. You shook your head, knowing you couldn’t, or shouldn't, put any weight on it.

Jeff paced back and forth, wondering what to do. You were nearly to the top of the hill, and the path was too steep for him to carry you down and too narrow for him to help hold you up as you hopped down.

It was still early so the trails weren't busy, meaning you probably wouldn't run into another hiker to help you out. Jeff picked you up and moved you off of the path, so you wouldn't be in the way if someone did happen to come up.

After half an hour and many failed calls from the lack of reception, Jeff decided he was going to have to carry you down. He had you put his backpack on and you managed to climb on to his back. You clung tightly to him, scared that he was going to drop you. When it got too steep, he had you stand on your good ankle and he would lift you from one clear spot to another.

You eventually made it back to the parking lot, and Jeff had you sit in the backseat to elevate your ankle. He drove you to the nearest hospital, stopping at a CVS to pick up some painkillers since you didn’t know how long you’d be waiting to see a doctor.

You draped your arm over his shoulder and hopped into the ER. Jeff helped you sit down before going to check in with the front desk. He returned with a clipboard of paperwork for you to fill out and a cup of coffee.

"You doing okay, baby?" Jeff asked, kissing your forehead. You nodded, even though the pain was insufferable.

After about an hour of waiting, you were brought over to an empty bed. The nurse checked all of your vitals and a little while later, the doctor came in.

"Well, it's definitely broken," the doctor said, pointing to the clean break in your bone on the scans. "You'll need surgery to realign the bone," he continued, and Jeff reached over to hold your hand as the surgery was explained to you.

Jeff promised he wouldn't go anywhere and kissed the top of your head before a team of nurses wheeled you off to prep you for surgery.

You woke up in a hospital bed a few hours later and Jeff was sitting by your side. Your leg was elevated and you had a cast around your ankle. A nurse came in to check on you a couple of times before the doctor came in to say they wanted to keep you overnight to monitor you post-op.

A few days after you were able to leave the hospital, you and Jeff were cuddling in his bed in his apartment. The contents of the suitcase you were now living out of were scattered across the floor of his bedroom. Jeff had insisted that you stayed with him, at least until you were confident using the stairs with crutches, since your apartment was on the fourth floor and your building didn't have an elevator.

“What are you doing?” you asked as Jeff pulled away from cuddling your to riffle through the drawer of his bedside table. A few moments later, Jeff revealed a thick black sharpie. He uncapped it and motioned for you to move the blanket so he could draw on your cast.

Your rolled your eyes at his childish behavior, but pulled the blanket off. You positioned yourself to be propped up against the headboard, placing a pillow under your cast. Jeff was on the other end of the bed, hoovering over your foot as he doodled mindlessly on the plaster.

You took your phone out to capture this moment, adding the picture to your Instagram story to let everyone know that you were in good hands with Jeff.

After a while, your cast was covered in small pictures and short notes. There was little room let for anyone else to write on it, but Jeff was pleased with his work.

 You were restless all night, constantly tossing and turning, hardly able to get any sleep. Even though it was still early, you were wide awake and decided to try to make yourself breakfast. You swung your legs down, using the nightstand for support as you balanced on one foot. You reached for your crutches, determined to master using them today. You were tired of relying on Jeff for everything and wanted to be able to do things on your own. Your goal was to get from the bedroom to the kitchen without getting caught on anything or stumbling.

You let out a frustrated groan and threw one of your crutches on to the ground after the bottom of the crutch stuck to the wooden floor and you pushed yourself forward without having the support following you.

“What’s goin on, baby?” Jeff asked, stumbling out of the bedroom, still half asleep. He was holding a white t-shirt in his hands and was only wearing the pair of boxers he had slept in.

You were standing on one foot, the other kicked up behind you, holding on to the counter top for stability.

“Nothing,” you muttered, turning around and attempting to hop to the fridge so you wouldn't have to put any weight onto your ankle. Jeff sighed, knowing you were lying. He swung the fridge door open and took out the carton of eggs he knew you were reaching for. “I don’t need you to do everything for me,” you snapped, not realizing how aggressive or angry you sounded. Jeff’s eyes widening at your remarks.

“I’m just trying to help out,” Jeff said quietly. You really did appreciate his efforts, but he was driving you crazy. He was constantly around and practically refused to let you do anything by yourself.

"I know you are, but I don't need to be babied, Jeff," you insisted, and he nodded. He understood where you were coming from, but that didn't stop him from leaning down to pick up the crutch you had thrown on top the floor. You shot him a death glare since you easily could've picked it up yourself, but you still took it from him.

"I'm not babying you. I'm just taking care of you. You should be focused on physical therapy and walking with the crutches, you shouldn't have to worry about anything else."

"But how am I supposed to do that when you hardly ever let me get out of bed?" you argued, making a point. Jeff didn’t have a comeback, instead he just apologized for being overbearing and overprotective, promising to let you do more from now on. "It's okay, Jeff. I love you anyways," you smiled, watching Jeff's face beam at the words you had just said. It was the first time either of you had said them aloud, even though you had both been feeling it for a while.

"I love you, too," he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you a soft kiss.

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek fanfic #jeff wittek fluff #jeff wittek blurb #vlog squad #vlog squad blurb #vlog squad fanfic #jeff wittek fanfiction #vlog squad one shot #jeff wittek one shot #boyfriend!jeff #jeff wittek x y/n #jeff wittek x you #jeff wittek x reader

[maggies-scribblings]

2) "How long have you been standing there?" If you're willing, I'm thinking this would be interesting with Marichat post season 3. 😊

“How long have you been standing there?”

Of all the responsibilities Marinette inherited as Guardian, that cursed Grimoire was by far her biggest headache.

Well, Master Fu did leave a USB drive with the scanned pages of the sacred book, and a password-protected file with all the discoveries he’d made with her help: the power-up potion recipes, the story of how the Miraculous came to be, the descriptions of each jewel’s powers…

Unfortunately, his work was left incomplete by his forced retirement, leaving Marinette to painstakingly decipher almost everything Master Fu could not. However, there was still a very important part that eluded her after four years — the ritual that had to be performed in order to summon The Wish. Not because she wanted to use it, rather to be able to identify any peculiar ingredients or locations she could use to trace Hawkmoth.

The cypher on this section was even more complex than the rest: not only were the glyphs more intricate, the illustrations were so bizarre she couldn’t tell whether they were allegorical or instructional.

It was a race against Hawkmoth, who had recently cracked the code on the copy he had stolen from Master Fu. This had been evident a few months ago, when a fire-powered Mayura, together with a flaming akumatized villain, had attacked an old theatre full of people attending a concert.

Repeatedly, Hawkmoth had shown to be playing around with the power-ups, prompting Ladybug to keep a stockpile of potions so that everyone in Team Miraculous could use them in an emergency.

Approaching the subject as methodically as her chaotic life allowed, Marinette reserved her Wednesday nights to work on the Grimoire. On this beautiful evening, she decided to move the studies to her balcony, reclining on her lounge chair. At least her muscles could relax a little. Her nerves? Not so much…

“Goddamn mystical book!”

She was holding the tablet on one hand and taking notes on the notebook on her lap with the other. She’d been on this very page for weeks, with no progress.

“Aaaah!” Marinette screamed, “are you sure you can’t help me, Tikki?”

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” the little god replied from her favourite flower pot. “You know us kwamis can’t know the secrets of the book.”

Another few minutes passed in silence, before Marinette let out a frustrated huff, slamming her stuff down on the reel that served as coffee-table.

“I give up! I will never break the stupid magic code on the stupid magic book.”

“Is everything okay here?” A familiar voice asked, quizzically.

Looking for the source of the voice, Marinette yelped as she spotted the unexpected visitor, perched on the wall just behind her.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked, as she tried (and failed) to conceal her reading materials.

“I heard a scream,” Chat Noir replied evasively, “I simply wanted to check on my favourite civilian. After all, this city is littered with danger!”

“Oh. I didn’t realise I was so loud.” Marinette blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry to alarm you. I was just having trouble with some homework.”

“Can I help you?” he plopped down beside her. “My wits are as sharp as my claws.”

Marinette snorted involuntarily, only to try and cover it up with a fake cough.

“No, thank you. It’s… kinda personal.”

The notebook with some of the symbols she’d copied was still visible, despite Marinette’s attempts to hide it. She watched in panic as his eyes landed on it, head tilted sideways in curiosity.

“Oh, I recognize some of those characters.” Before Marinette could swipe it from view, he picked it up.

“Hey, that’s priva— wait… you know these symbols?”

“Not exactly… Why are you writing this?”

“Oh! It’s a—a…” Marinette scrambled to find an excuse. “It’s copied from an old document, from my mother’s side of the family. I don’t even know what it is.”

“They look like Thai characters, only… in an ancient form…”

“Thai? You know Thai!?”

“Oh… I’ve been there for— for work. I saw something similar to this in an old museum.”

Reluctantly, she allowed him to see the rest of her notes. She was pushing her luck, really. Then again, Chat Noir had never seen the Grimoire, had he? And who knew, maybe he could help.

He flipped through the pages, studying the copied symbols intently.

“These drawings, though... they don’t look like anything I’ve seen before… except…”

Marinette noticed the change in his countenance, from curious excitement to perplexed recognition. “Uh-oh!”

“Oh, never mind, then.” She forced a laugh and waved dismissively, trying to pry the notebook from his claws. “It’s probably an old recipe or something like that.”

“Where did you say you got this?” Was his voice actually trembling?

“My—my mother’s uncle— great-uncle. He’s no longer around.”

“Not around, huh?” Marinette felt the way he was studying her face. “You mean he died?”

“N—no… he— retired.” Even with the risk of discovery, she couldn’t bring herself to lie. “A—abroad.”

“Hmm…” he mumbled again, flipping the pages of the notebook until he found a particular figure. “This one certainly rings a bell.”

He showed her the pages where she had reproduced the diagram of the wish. “Crap, I forgot I had doodled that!”

“You’ve seen that image before?” she gulped nervously.

“Just once, briefly. In a book I borrowed from my father then lost.”

“You? Y-you borrowed then lost it?”

“Hmm-hmm. It was mysteriously returned a few days later. My father never told me who found it.”

“And this book… belonged to your father?”

“It was a present from my mother. He was very upset about me losing it.”

“Upset?” Marinette was barely able to speak coherently, the way her head was spinning.

“Yes. So upset he was— never mind.”

Chat Noir put the notes down on the table, the movement lighting up the tablet screen Marinette had forgotten to lock.

It was impossible not to see the scanned page, complete with balloon notes and the title “Miraculous Spellbook Translation — V.2.34”. Marinette smacked her own forehead. “Why didn’t I lock the screen? Why didn’t I change the name of the file?”

She couldn’t stop him from picking up the tablet and flipping through the pages, exact reproductions of Gabriel Agreste’s book, down to the wear marks and ragged edges.

There were a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, where it seemed like both were putting two and two together and coming up with a square.

“Whe—” his voice came out cracking, so Chat Noir cleared his throat and tried again. “Where exactly did you get this, Marinette?”

“I— I told you already…”

“That great-uncle of yours… his name wouldn’t happen to be Wang Fu, would it?”

Marinette grimaced — there was no going back now.

“Y-you knew my uncle?”

“He was Master Fu to me… but of course, you know that very well, don’t you?”

Chat Noir’s frown turned into that mischievous grin he sported when he had a trick up his sleeve.

“So, would you say you can’t make heads or tails of this book… Bug?”

Marinette smiled back playfully, flicking his nose in an affectionate gesture.

“I’d say we’ve only just scratched the surface, Kitty. What do you say we work on it together?”

Prompt: “How long have you been standing there?”, Marichat, post-season 3.

For @miraculous-elcie. Thanks to everyone on Discord who chimed in!

#miraculous ladybug #my fic #ml fanfic #my writing #miraculous fanfic #marichat #miraculous-elcie #ask

[whootwhoot]

»»—— 𝘛𝘛𝘛𝘊 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 2: "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘴" ——««

Akaashi Keiji x Fem! Reader

author’s notes: holy shit im so sorry for the not posting in such a long time ;-; i had stuff i needed to clean up + i was lazy- anyways this is the second chapter for my first long fic “Third Times The Charm” sorry for the delay ^^ compared to the previous one this one involves more conversations since im not good at writing movements lmAO enjoy uwu

☕ synopsis: Iwaizumi Y/n, a student who goes to Aoba Johsai as well as the second year manager for the school’s male volleyball team. What happens when she sets eyes on the cute setter from Fukurodani?

[ CHAPTER 2 - First texts ] 

“Oh shit.” 

Your phone screen fades to black as you sit there biting your lip. Baffled by how stupid you were, you slam your face into the pillow next to you.

“You had one chance, one chance and you did what? You forgot about it, your stupid brain forgot about it. Are you kidding me?”

You let out a loud groan as you sit back up, the bed sheet wrinkles while you release that breath of air you’ve been holding. Your hands wandered around your phone’s keyboard, too nervous to reply but too anxious not to. 

Akaashi seems like a genuine guy, he doesn’t show off or boast about himself. He’s just always there, the way he smiles when he successfully makes a perfect set, the way his delicate hands toss the ball, his eyes only focusing on you…

“Y/n! Get a grip! What are you even thinking?!” a couple more groans and turns on your bed and you are more awake than before. 

Honestly you never expected a reply from him at all. Sure, the idea of that crossed your mind, maybe more than several times but the thought of it actually happening? There’s no way.  

“It’s like my brain short circuited somehow.” you whisper while sitting up, leaning against the headboard of your mattress. 

Maybe the impression of you from your previous lover affected you more than you want to admit. “You’re annoying.” “Undeserving of love.” “No one can even stand a clingy person like you.” 

Your vision turns blurry as you feel cold tears gently running down your face. You wipe them away, hoping to erase the emotions bubbling up inside of you away too. 

The insecurities you try to push away seem to have formed a wall, a never ending wall that just stacks higher and higher. Just when you thought you have gotten over it, the tiniest shard of the most fragile moment can make you fall back down again.

The creaking sound of your room door makes you jump as your brother peeks his head inside your room. 

“Haji? It’s 2am you, you should be sleeping!” 

“You didn’t close the lights in your room so I thought I’d check up on you.”

“Your eyes look reddish, are you okay?” 

You lift your shoulders in a shrug, Hajime comes into your room and stands right in front of you and folds his arms. 

“Is this the older brother's lecturing time?” you ask while raising your eyebrow

“And for the record, I’m fine. You don’t have to-”

“I think I do.” Hajime stares at you intensely 

“You should've gotten over that jerk ages ago.”

“I know, I know” you release your breath and repeat the sentence he once told you  “The first love cuts the deepest, but not every cut leaves a scar.” 

“And?”

“Well, I don’t know but just… what makes you think I deserve love?”

“Iwaizumi Y/n, you are my sister. No one knows you better than I-”

“DOUBT! THERE’S NO WA-.”

“SHUT UP AND LET ME FINISH.”

You laugh in amusement while Hajime licks his lips as his mouth forms a small smile. 

“Ok but the point is, you’ll find someone who’ll love you as much as you love them eventually. No one in the world is undeserving of love.”

You rest your chin on your palm while eyeing and slyly grinning towards your brother.

“Eww since when have you learned to be so cheesy?” 

“It’s called quality love advice, you should try them sometime.”

“YOU DUMBASS”

He ducks just in time to avoid the pillow you flung at him. 

“Stop yelling or the neighbours are going to hear you!”

He continues to laugh while rushing to the door. He stands at your door and gestures his hand at the light switch.

You grab your blanket and nod your head while laying down, the bed softly creaking causing him to chuckle. Hajime closes the lights and leaves your room quietly.

His warm words hang around  in the cold room as you slowly drift off to sleep. 

“Thanks Haiji-nisan.” 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Hello, it’s me  😓

The girl who was randomly texting you last night 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

No reply

You furiously type on your phone while staring at the screen intensely in hopes that he sees your messages. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I forgot about that photo 😓 😓 , I'm sorry if it seemed weird or uh rude

And uh i just hope that maybe we can get to know each other

Unknown:

Okay.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

Okaayyy he replied,  so that’s a good sign… right? 

Biting your lips, you place your thumb on the phone to prevent the screen from fading and eventually closing. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Soooooooo I’m Iwaizumi Y/n  😇 😇

Unknown:

Akaashi Keiji.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“God damn it, he’s such a conversation killer.” you mumble under your breath 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

I’m from Aoba Johsai!! 

Akaashi: 

You’re the spikers younger sister? Iwaizumi?

Y/n:

Well duh  😂

Where are you from? 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You ran your hand through your hair, cringing at how hard you're trying. 

Maybe you could just tell him, you know like “Hey hot stuff, I think you attracted me with your stunning good looks so I want to date you.” you mock while pointing finger guns at the mirror. 

Just then, the familiar ringtone of your phone notification rings and you scramble to see who it was. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Heyyyyy, you got the text yet? 

Y/n:

Yeah

El is best girl:

Daaaaaaamn I take it you're disappointed that it wasn't him who appeared on your notification?  😔 😔

Y/n:

NO NO NO OF COURSE NOT 

I love texting you  😘

El is best girl:

Awhh save it lmAO 

Did you text him back?

Y/n:

😤 He’s not giving anything to work with here 

El is best girl: 

Pshhh I mean just ask him how his day was or like 

At least try to keep the conversation going 

Y/n:

I'M TRYING

LIKE  😩

REALLY HARD HERE

El is best girl:

lmAoOOOO

Y/n:

HOLD UP HE JUST TEXTED ME 

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

You hurriedly press into your chat with Akaashi

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Akaashi:

I’m from Fukurodani.

Y/n:

Isn’t that just a few minutes away from my school 😮 ?

Akaashi:

I think so.

Y/n:

Cool 

Anyways

Um how was your day?

“Akaashi is typing”

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“I can’t decide if he’s typing really slow or he’s sending a long text…” You decide to place your phone down and doodle on your papers while waiting for his reply. 

----

“Bokuto-san, she asked me how my day went.”

“Don’t reply to her anymore! Let her wait for you to text back, it builds a sense of mystery.” 

Bokuto suggests while winking. 

“Bokuto-san it’s not really nice to leave people on read.”

“Akaashi, I’m the ladies man, listen to me and your love life this time wouldn’t end like the last two.”

Akaashi can’t help but grin at his confident “wingman”, it’s no secret his past relationships were… well not that good, but to ask for Bokuto for help? 

“But-”

“Hey you were the one who asked for help when a girl texted you.” “Plus, didn’t you find her cute too? The short girl manager watched our match at camp.”

“What?”

“You were staring when she wasn’t looking, and after the first time you saw her from the bus you were trying to get to know which school bus it was.”

Akaashi’s jaw almost drops at his friend's observant nature that he didn’t know existed, apparently when it comes to love Bokuto isn’t as… well, dumb, as he seems. He tries to form words to deny Bokuto’s accusation but he can’t seem to find a reason to do so. 

“Also just play hard to get, girls love a challenge.”

“...” “Maybe I’ll wait a little longer before I reply to her.”

---- 

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Um Akaashi?  😅

Uh  😅 😅

You know, if you’re not interested in talking to me you could’ve just said so

Akaashi:

Sorry I was busy, I had volleyball practice.

Y/n:

OH I’M SO SORRY 

I didn’t know you have practice on weekends ;-; 

Akaashi:

It’s all right.

Y/n:

Anyways how’s practice^^ was it fun?

Akaashi:

Yeah, it was like usual.

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

“HE’S” “SUCH” “A” “DRY” “TEXTER” “AAAAAAAAAAAA”

You scream inside your head while holding yourself back from banging your head on the table. 

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

Y/n:

Do you think we can maybe, meet up?  👉 👈

Like 

Uh  😶

Akaashi:

Date?

Y/n:

NO NO  😲 

I mean we never met of course not haahahahaha 

Akaashi:

Meeting up just to get to know each other then?

Y/n:

Ah yes that’s it, like a gathering

If you don’t mind 

Akaashi:

I’ll see if I’m available. 

Y/n:

Cool! Is next Sunday fine?

Akaashi:

We’ll see. 

Y/n:

...

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

----

╔═════ ∘◦ ☆ ◦∘ ══════╗

El is best girl:

Wowww playing hard to get huh 

He sure is a tricky one

Y/n:

I don’t think I like where this is going

El is best girl:

It lowkey kinda ruins the impression you have of him huh 

Ah well 

It’s probably his first time or something

Have a little hope  😔  

Y/n:

Well 

I have one week to prepare 

HAVE FAITH  😍 😍

El is best girl:

Hell yeah 

Any thoughts on where you’re taking him 

If you don’t I mayyyyy have suggestionsssssssss 

AHHAAHAHAHAHA

Y/n:

God damn it El 

We’ll just be talking okay 

I do have a place in mind though

El is best girl:

Go on

Y/n:

You know the ice cream shop? At the street? 

El to is best girl:

Ohh an ice cream shop 

Very intriguing  🥺

Don’t tell me it’s because of that article 

Y/n:

I mean

El is best girl:

LMAO you 

You seriously believe you can tell someone’s personality by their favourite ice cream flavour?

Grow a brain Y/n 

Y/n:

You’re one to talk  🙄 🙄

Anyways I’m off to prepare dinner for tonight

El is best girl:

Owh Iwaizumi-kun teaching you to cook again

Let’s hope you don’t bring the kitchen down with you okay dear

Y/n:

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends

El is best girl:

Nah it’s simple really

You looooooooove me uwu

Y/n:

Ew

Go away 

El is best girl:

😳 😳 😳

╚═════ ∘◦ ❉ ◦∘ ══════╝

- end of chapter 2 -

« masterlist / previous / next »

(author’s end notes: i hope yall enjoyed this lmAO its pretty long ^^ anyways im writing their texts from y/n’s POV so the nicknames she gives her contacts might change owo)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi scenario #iwaizumi hcs #haikyuu x y/n #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji fic #akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji #hajime iwaizumi #akaashi fluff #akaashi fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuucreations

[ivory-sunflower]

Arty Art Things ✨

Hellooo!

I've decided to post some of the arty things I've done either recently or in the last few years, well the pieces I'm somewhat proud of at least. All my posts tend to be a lot more wordy than they need to be but hey it's what I do here!

Conchúr White

Anyone one who's been on this blog for a bit will have probably have seen me talk about this lovely Irish fella. The pencil drawing is actually a year old as of yesterday, I only know that because screenshots of me flipping out about Conchúr following me on twitter popped up in my memories yesterday. I think I'd sent it to him at about 3 in the morning (I was not in a good head space at that point in time), so probably not what he was expecting to see when he opened his phone in the morning aha

The biro version is much more recent: I got bored while sat at my desk and doing research about university courses, saw a biro, saw my old drawing of Conchúr, had an idea. I revisited my GCSE art techniques and here we are. Again, I put this up on Twitter and now (at the the time I'm writing this) when you google "Conchúr White" it's the third top image of him which is a bit mad really. I think I spent all of about 20 minutes on Conchúr but another 45 minutes on the words behind him. The words are the names of the songs on his EP 'Bikini Crops', he doesn't just really love the idea of Channing Tatum driving him around at night in a daisy print bikini... Well maybe he does but what he does in his spare time is none of my business...

TechDif

So I mentioned that the pencil drawing of Conchúr came from a rough patch in my mental health and this one is no different! In fact this one came from an even worse circumstance so we love to see it. I had a bad, bad time in July and this started as a way of distracting myself from what was going on in my head. Without it, I can't honestly say I'd still be here so even if the final product of this had been a terrible mess I would still love it for keeping me alive. However, it did not turn out to be a terrible mess!

Now that the origin of this is out the way, where do I start with TechDif? Unlike Conchúr, I haven't really talked about them on here (unless you count one brief post about Citation Needed) before so I guess I'll do it here. The Technical Difficulties are a wonderful group of 4 British fellas who have had their fair share of fun online and even before. They did a radio show at university together, which went on to become their Reverse Trivia Podcast, later moving on to a panel show called 'Citation Needed': and a game called 'Two of These People Are Lying'. All of which I would thoroughly reccomend, they're one of my go to things when I'm having a rough time. All 4 of them are excellent! Tom Scott (red top, blue jeans on the picture) has his own YouTube channel which does content aside from TechDif. If you're quite nerdy and like science, linguistics, computers, or any number of other things you may enjoy Tom's channel. He is probably best described as "The Moderator" of the group, much like a tired teacher he tries desperately to keep everyone on track with what they're meant to be doing, but usually it does not end well for him. Then we have Matt Gray (space top, holding an ice cream) who also has a channel away from TechDif stuff, he does techy electronic things and has a series called 'Will it Soft Serve?' where he puts all kinds of strange things through a soft serve machine. Matt brings a very specific energy to TechDif and I can't fully describe what that vibe is but I love it. Matt and Tom also share a YouTube channel where TOTPAL is posted and they had a series called 'The Park Bench'. Moving on to everybody's favourite Gary Brannan: Gary Brannan (SATIRE hoodie, glasses) and can I just say, what a fella he is! He's just excellent! He is the one that will argue and rip into Tom the most (not in a malicious way) and hilarity ensues. There are some episodes where he is absolutely on it, getting all the points and others where he very clearly has no idea and that's where some of his funniest quotes come from. Given how badly I was doing at the time I made this, his response to it on Twitter was so so lovely. I specifically remember one tweet where he said I'd made him happy and although it was probably a flippant comment, it just made feel alright for a bit. Yeah I might be feeling awful right now, but I've made someone else happy so that's a nice feeling. Then last but certainly not least, we have Chris Joel (buffalo check shirt, beard)! I would be lying if I said he isn’t my favourite... His sense of humor is the one I vibe with most, he can get rather dramatic in parts and can chat bollocks like a champion. He has absolutely no online presence away from TechDif and, like Rens from Temples, I fully believe he’s a cryptid and lives off in a tree somewhere. 

The picture took me about 4 days to complete, well 4 nights because I did most of it between the hours of 12 a.m. and 7a.m. - I remember watching the sun come through my window each morning. It’s made up of lots of little pieces, all cut out and stuck on; even the sky and hills are made of separate pieces of paper. Nothing was actually drawn on the piece of paper it’s all stuck on, it’s not how I usually do things but if I messed up one little but I could just redraw it rather than ruining the whole thing. The most tedious parts to make were Chris’ shirt because I had to draw each square individually and then join the as well, and cutting out the ban-hammer in the bottom right was surprisingly hard. Every single detail of the picture is a reference to the podcast/shows, I still have the plan sketch and reference list knocking about somewhere. I listened to a lot of true crime videos while making it to the point that certain parts remind me of different cases: the brandy now reminds me of Peter Tobin, and the big spiral thing reminds me of Tim McLean (very harrowing case) - sorry that fact is a bit morbid but interesting nonetheless. 

I did post this for a little bit back in July, but I received some rather awful messages so I took it down. Generally, Tom Scott/TechDif fans are lovely but there’s been a few that have taken a disliking to me for some reason so I’m hoping they don’t resurface again. I’m in a better head space now though, so even if they do I’m more equipped to deal with it this time.

Hozier

This was a quick sketch I did in April, I was getting bored with lockdown and decided to summon the bog man himself. There’s not really much more backstory than that, no poor mental health story, no fun twitter story - he’s just here. He’s vibing. I will say I’m particularly proud of his nose, I just think it’s one of the best noses I’ve ever drawn. His hand is okay, but I think that the hands on my Conchúr drawings are better. So there is the Hozi-Boi...

The Corpse Bry

I’ve talked about Bry on here before as well, I love him, he’s excellent, top lad. He is a living Tim Burton character, he’s 6′6, very skinny, and his legs are longer than my will to live. I was watching ‘The Corpse Bride’ a few weeks ago and suddenly had an idea and so ‘The Corpse Bry’ came to be. I gave him a little panda friend because the panda has always been his animal - he used to wear a panda beanie all the time and his album had a panda on the cover. Again, there’s not really a fun story behind this one, I guess it’s somewhat fun because it’s the first art I made after finishing my psychology exams in October so it was nice to actually have the time to draw.

James Bagshaw

Ginger talking about Temples for the third post in a row? it’s more likely than you think! I did this one last week, I’d had a bit of a wobbly day and had group therapy on Teams in the evening and I just couldn’t concentrate on what was going on and I ended up doodling Mr James E. Bagshaw, the glitter crying fraggle man himself. It’s a bare-bones drawing that I could definitely work into more but I’m happy with it as it is to be honest. I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit and add the individual bits of fringe to his jacket, just thinking about doing that makes me tired. Maybe I’ll get around to drawing the whole band at some point...

Alice in “Wonderland”

This one is from about 5(?) years ago, it’s not my typical style and was a “study” based on another artists work (basically i just had to copy this fellas work). I’ll be honest, this one has a sketchy backstory that I won’t go in to because it’s not exactly a nice one, and because of that I also won’t say who the artist is that it’s based on. Despite this, I’m still really proud of this one and I’m so sad that I never got this piece back after I got taken out the class. I’ve considered trying this style again, I’ve even joked about doing another Conchúr drawing in this style as a nod to my progression through GCSE art, eventually leading to Conchúr drawn in ink on music manuscript and stained with neon paint and dyes - it would be quite the project!

So this has been quite a lengthy post so apologies about that but life goes on. Similar to the vinyl post, I’ll probably add to this as and when I make more art. Even if no one is reading these posts, I’m enjoying making them so that’s the main thing. It’s just nice to document things and the feelings that go with them. 💕

~ Love Ginger xx 

29/11/2020

#personal✨ #art✨ #conchúr white #Tom Scott #tomscottgo #matt gray #gary brannan #chris joel #techdif #the technical difficulties #hozier #bry #bryontour #bribry #james bagshaw #temples #temples band #templesband #wonderland #cottagecore #ginger #redhead #Aesthetic #faerie

[bestintheparsec]

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it” + “I didn’t think you cared”

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Warnings: none

Words: 900 ish

- Hi anon, you sent this a month ago and I’m sorry it took this long for me to post this; but I hope you like it😅 Also I’m so glad you enjoyed Healer!❤️

Requests | Masterlist

You’re out of the hospital and home now, pouring yourself some more whiskey and walking back and forth across the living room, trying to fill your head with lighter thoughts before bed.

You try to stretch your neck and wince at the bit of pain that strikes your shoulder. Looking down at the bandages, you take another drink from the glass.

The attempt at clearing your thoughts is a weak one at best. Your mind can’t help but go to Javier, replaying that fight you had the night before you’d gotten into the altercation with the sicarios. Hurtful things were said, on both ends, and by the end of it you were left alone with nothing but your frustrated tears.

Your thoughts are interrupted by several loud knocks on your door. You know exactly who it is, and by now you’re feeling more apprehension than hurt.

Javier paces impatiently outside the door to your apartment. 

He’d heard from a very reluctant Steve that you’d been rather severely injured on the field, and he was fuming. At himself, for not being out there that day, and at Steve for hiding it from him, despite it being on your insistence.

Fear is something he’s gotten used to, doing what he does; but he never likes when it’s in regards to you. 

You open the door to find the pained look on his face. After a moment of neither of you saying anything, you step aside and let him in, shutting the door quietly after him.

He follows your hurriedly back to the living room, and reaches out to touch your arm—it’s only a split second before he moves away again, running a hand through his hair. He wears a frown that carries more frustration than usual.

“Are you...alright?” Javi asks hesitantly in a low voice. The tension from the last night you saw each other still lingers.

“Well, I’m home now,” you answer simply. You’d taken a day off of work to recoup, not telling Javier or anyone else except Steve and the ambassador. 

“You got shot and didn’t think it was worth telling me?” He raises his voice just a little.

“I didn’t think you cared,” you whisper. “After the other night...”

“What did you want me to say?” he says, his voice deep. “That I can’t imagine my life without you in it?”

You both go still, the silence cutting sharply through the air. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing away. You look at him with concern and confusion, a furrow in your brows. All you can concentrate on are the deep rises and falls of his chest; he seems to be just as taken aback as you are by the words.

A long pause goes by before you speak again. “Javi, I—”

He interrupts with a hefty sigh, mostly directed at himself; his shoulders fall as he shakes his head. 

“I’m...gonna go,” he says, starting to turn towards the door.

He makes it three steps forward before you stop him.

“No—wait,” you murmur quietly. “Please...don’t go.” You can barely meet his eyes, hating the pleading tone in your voice. You feel his intense gaze on you.

Javi walks back over after a moment, almost reluctantly, and nearly closes the space between you.

Tentatively, he takes both of your hands, then traces his fingers slowly up your arms, barely brushing them along your skin. He doesn’t meet your eyes as his gaze falls on the nasty wound on your shoulder; his jaw clenches when he sees some of the blood that's seeped through the gauze. You don’t know what to say, or if you should say anything at all, so instead you move to rest your hand on his chest; a gesture of reassurance.

He should’ve been there, he thinks to himself.

His eyes finally break away and meet yours again, and you can’t quite make out the expression in them. He looks hurt, though it doesn’t seem to be about your injury.

Before you can read him any further, he carefully tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. He’s even closer to you now, and you can smell a hint of cigarette smoke on him.

Javi cradles your face in his hand, and leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. He lingers there for a few seconds before pulling away. When you tilt your head up to peer up at him again, he finally pulls you in for a kiss that seems to carry everything he couldn’t say out loud. 

His hands move down to your waist and rest behind your back, when suddenly he stops and pulls back, as though he’d gotten carried away with himself.

“What I said...” he starts, but can’t seem to finish the sentence.

You wrap your arms around his torso, leaning your head against his chest. 

“You don’t need to say anything,” you say. It comes out quieter than you expected, and his arms suddenly tense up around you. Just as quickly, he relaxes again.

Eventually you break apart and he follows you to bed; you're both spent. He doesn’t always stay, and on most nights you don’t go straight to sleep. Somehow it always ends up like this; unspoken words that he’s not quite sure how to say. But when he has you in his arms and everything else fades away, Javier starts to believe he may figure it out one day.

~

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#javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #my ff #non sw #drabbles #this is probs hot garbage but I enjoyed writing it so here you go lol #this isn't terribly angsty or anything but I'm feeling like writing angst so send in any other requests if you have them