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fleckcmscott · 1 year

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The Loss

Summary: Arthur and Y/N come face to face with an inevitable step in the cycle of life.

Words: 3,874

Warnings: Angst, Swearing

A/N: Penny's passing has been alluded to in Things Past and Stepping Stones. But I wanted to explore how these two would handle it in the context of the Watch What Happens series - and pay Penny the respect of being more than a specter in the background. While this story wasn't easy to write, I'm glad I did it. Thank you to @iartsometimes for beta-ing! 💜And thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for brainstorming and help with the summary! 🤗

The call was at once unexpected and as predictable as April showers.

Bowl of cheese curls in lap, Y/N and Arthur had settled on the sofa to catch My Favorite Wife, the seven o'clock feature on Gotham Movie Classics, the tale of a wife lost at sea and a husband moving on with a new bride. 1940's Love and Laughter treat of the year, if the movie host could be believed. With Arthur’s arm slung about her shoulders, Y/N drifted on the lazy bliss of brainless entertainment, and he tee-heed at the same old jokes. The same old jokes suited them both just fine.

Just as the missing wife crashed her husband's second honeymoon, the phone's metallic ringer interjected. Perfect timing. Sucking powdered cheddar from her fingers, Y/N whisked her way to the kitchen and grabbed the receiver.

"Yes," she confirmed. "This is Mrs. Fleck."

As soon as the nurse from Endsbury Place introduced herself, experience alerted Y/N to where this was headed.

Hazel spoke with the considerate candor of someone who imparted bad news on the regular. Penny had eaten dinner in the cafeteria with everyone else. While she'd needed encouragement to finish her lasagna soup, she'd accepted a piece of chocolate cake for dessert. She'd watched Wheel of Fortune in the community room until bedtime. The evening had been uneventful.

But when staff had checked on her an hour later, she'd soiled the bed. Her breath had gone shallow, rapid, interrupted by periods of no breathing at all. She'd murmured and mumbled. About Happy and Thomas. All the while in a fugue state.

Penny was ceasing. She'd be over by the end of the week. They'd better catch the next subway if they wanted to see her.

Y/N held the phone to her chest, where her heart stuttered, and wondered how she was going to tell Arthur. He hadn't seen his mother since finding the Arkham file years ago, brought it to Y/N in an act of desperation or faith.

When there were documents to review, he'd request they be mailed, then sign them without reading. He skipped quarterly progress calls, left Y/N to attend and offer one sentence reports he didn't react to. Greeting cards crafted during activity time went straight into the trash. Such coldness distressed her. And she was about to feel that ice again.

It took Arthur's hitched laughs for her to remember to hang up. She did the courtesy of waiting for a commercial break to pad into the living room. Hands folded together, she lowered herself to the arm of the couch. Prepared to ruin their weekly ritual.

"Who was it?" He seized the TV remote to lower the volume.

"The nursing home. Penny's not doing well." Arthur's face was a blank canvas, gaze cast downward. But every detail Y/N imparted hardened the lines at the corners of his eyes, the tendon of his jaw. Thinned already thin lips to a crooked frown of loathing. She rubbed his forearm, sought to soothe away the reaction she knew was coming. "They don't know how long we have to say goodbye."

"I don't need to say anything."

Sinews tightened under her touch. After a pause, she tried again. "You don't have to forgive her. That's not what I meant. I just don't want you to do something you'll regret. With my parents, I-"

"She wasn't like your parents, Y/N." Delivered in past tense, like he was fast-forwarding to the inevitable. A rasp that threatened to turn into a roar, the truth behind it a knife to her ribs. "I'm tired of having to think about her. I just want it to be done." On a sharp shake of the head, he fled to the fire escape.

She sat there, bereft for words and the certainty of what to do. Bereft of what he needed. For a man as warm as Arthur, the chill fit as well as a father's shoes on a teetering toddler, untied and five sizes too large. It reminded her too much of herself.

A voiceover tried to sell her on a Buttoneer clothing punch, buy one for $9.95 get one free, payable via money order or COD. If only figuring out how to handle a situation every single person would go through was as easy as a frivolous purchase.

She brought their glasses to the kitchen. After putting the lid on their Tupperware to keep the cheese curls from going stale, she put a blank VHS in the VCR and punched record, taping what they'd later learn was a city council meeting on Gotham's public access station instead of the rest of the movie. She studied him through one of the windows.

He was braced on the railing. He hadn't stopped to grab his cigarettes, so the butt he puffed must have been a ten-day old. His shoulders stiffened and loosened in uneven waves, as if on a puppeteer's strings. His lips moved in the orange light of the streetlamp, phrases she suspected she didn't want to hear.

Yet, she padded closer, as if the strings on his back tied them together, fibers that connected them through their bests and worsts. She opened the glass door halfway, enough to make her presence known but not intrude. He gave no indication he cared she was there. The cool breeze snuck up her sleeves, under her neckline. It wasn't what made her shiver.

She spoke with an ease she didn't necessarily feel. "I get it, Arthur. And I'm sorry."

His reply was to flick his cigarette to the street, move ever so slightly towards the metal steps. When he lit another quarter Stutton, she turned to leave him in peace.

~~~~~

The temperature was stifling hot, a good eighty degrees. Y/N unbuttoned her smoke taupe coat and left the nurse's station, headed down the hallway to the third room on the right.

She'd visited in-laws before, just not like this. Jeff's parents had been...fine. Their connection had followed the latest etiquette guides, been a model of polite kindness. No sense of disapproval had lurked - but they hadn't mourned each other after the divorce, either. Whereas Penny and she had had one brief interaction, in which the older woman had paid her a compliment and cut Arthur to the quick.

A deep breath steeled her at the threshold of 208. She allowed herself a moment of doubt as to whether she should be here at all, especially since the only break in Arthur's silence had been a spartan note on the counter: Be back later.

It wasn't a vague veneration of mothers and fathers that'd brought her here, but an inkling of The Right Thing. So she stepped in.

Antique bouquets and scrolling vines splotched faded wallpaper, the tan of age and humidifiers. A bulletin board hung halfway up the wall across from the bed. Alongside Penny's name was the latest Christmas card Y/N had sent and a color photocopy of the Niagara Falls honeymoon photo, the one Arthur had goaded her into. A television was on the bureau to the left, turned to black and white reruns and muted. Two frames stood beside it. One held a snapshot of Arthur sitting backstage at Pogo's, studying his journal. In the other, he blew on a wooden spoon just before tasting the tomato sauce he'd tried his hand at. (Another teaspoon of dried basil, he'd noted. And cut down on the salt.)

Her throat tightened. She'd maintained a fishline of connection in case Arthur ever changed his mind about see his mother. He hadn't. Had those photos and letters made any difference, brought a modicum of comfort? Or pricked whatever was left of Penny with reminders of what she'd lost?

Sunbeams spilled past canvas curtains, struck the visitor's chair abutting the footboard. Extra bedding covered the seat. A bed pan, a wash basin, yards of tubing that said no one had sat there since her admittance.

Upper body angled at thirty degrees, Penny lay in bed. Eyes open, pointed at the TV, as unfocused as the thousand-yards-away. An overbed tray hovered above her lap, on which were a nurse call button, a box of Kleenex, and a paper cup.

When Y/N straightened the purse strap on her shoulder, Penny's stare drifted to her own. Y/N wasn't sure it was intentional until Penny's weak "Happy?"

The desperation, the quiet hope in that rasp propelled Y/N forward. "No. Arthur's home."

Flaking lips mouthed unreadable syllables. She sat on the bed at Penny's side and took the drink from the tray. A sponge swab floated in the room temperature water. Y/N tapped the lollipop stick on the rim, pressed the sponge to the corner of Penny's mouth. Using faint pressure, Y/N dragged it along her gums, first the top, then the bottom. A gesture she'd learned a lifetime ago.

Possibly understanding, probably wondering who the hell Y/N was, the older woman turned away. Lashes fluttered, gnarled fingers picked at the satin edge of her polyester blanket. Y/N grasped her hand, enclosed it between her own. Cold, frail, skin as thin as tissue paper. It was like holding an orb-weaver, made of glass and ready to crack.

Bruises webbed along her wrinkled wrist, a side effect of the blood thinners she'd taken since her stroke. They called to mind the newspaper articles in the Arkham file. The swollen black eye featured in Penny's mugshot, lip thick with dried blood. Had she been too scared to act? To protect her son? When Y/N had worked on family matter cases, money was often used as a thousand-pound cudgel. Penny and Arthur had lived hand to mouth. Had that poverty kept her shacked up with a monster masquerading as a man?

Y/N swung her leg back and forth. This wasn't much different from when they'd met at Gotham General, a girlfriend making pleasant conversation at a stranger. "Hazel gave me a good report," she started. "She said you're one of the nicest residents here and loves your smile. I'm sorry I've missed seeing it.

"You know, when Arthur and I started going out, he mentioned you'd taught him to dance. You told him any gentleman should be able to waltz. I'm so grateful for that, because I love dancing with him. All I have is two left feet, but he manages to make it right. You raised a wonderful man. My life is better for knowing him. I wish you could understand how lucky you were to have him, too."

Sharp as a sewing needle, that last bit made Y/N wince. An unwelcome frankness given the current situation. Kinder words might have come easier if she listened to the whispers of her heart rather than the stubbornness of her head. Yet, her heart had tuned into Arthur, not Penny.

Her old psychiatric evaluation stated she was mentally ill. A woman who claimed her child was the son of a business magnate while adoption papers hid in her file. A lobotomized drug user who wore a shoe as a hat, laces tied under her chin. A difficulty that high and low society had done its damnedest to discard. There were too many factors, too many possibilities, all of which boiled down to awful.

Y/N turned the dial to AM. "Ms. Fleck, you've had more than your fair share of hardships. They kept you from being who you wanted to be. From loving Arthur the way he deserved. I know it's hard not having him here. But you don't have to worry about him. He's doing well. He's safe with me. And…wherever you're going, you'll be safe there, too."

Penny's eyelids grew heavy, drooping. Respirations slowed to a subtle rise and fall of her breast. Y/N brushed silver hair from Penny's forehead, held the back of her fingers to her skin. It bordered on feverish. But the passive hold Penny had on her hand became active, the feeble squeeze of the fading fast.

"Rest now," Y/N said. And squeezed back.

~~~~~

She was dead. She was dead and he was still taking care of her.

An encyclopedia of paperwork stood between Arthur and a free afternoon. The funeral director explained each form, went over each procedure. Buckley Funeral Home would alert social security to Penny's passing. She had no estate, no life insurance, no pension, so filing in probate wasn't necessary. They'd get copies of the death certificate after the medical examiner determined what'd killed her, give it about a week.

It'd be Arthur's responsibility to contact a mason. There was one a couple blocks down that did good work. His mother had reserved a plot in Potter's Field cemetery, a strip of land squished between Otisburg and Burnley, his old life and new.

He had no idea what to write in the obituary. Y/N suggested the facts but softened. She'd been wrong a lot as of late.

Penny Fleck was born in Gotham to parents he didn't know and perished in the same city. She'd worked as a maid for the Wayne family and never let it go. She'd left behind the son she'd left behind twenty years ago and the daughter-in-law who'd meddled too much, whose loving parents had won the race to The End. Penny's later years were marked by the sacrifice of others and lies. A graveside service would be held Friday afternoon, which no one would attend.

Arthur rubbed his face halfway to his skull. As a boy and as a man, he'd idolized his mother. While her occasional digs stung, her admonishments when he'd reveal his sense of humor, she was the sole person he could feel comfortable around. Even if he'd put on a happy face. Even if she couldn't fathom the chasm of malaise in his chest, the flatness of most of his days. The conviction he could do anything he set his mind to married to the knowledge nothing would ever change.

She'd been the only one to appreciate him. His condition wasn't a curse but a divine gift to make others laugh. God had given it to him because he'd been chosen. No one liked him because they couldn't understand how special he was. Penny had needed him when the world wanted to throw him away. When he'd wanted to throw the world away.

Sometimes he wished everything hadn't gone to shit around him, that it hadn't all crashed. Not that he'd be stuck caring for her - he liked his life now, liked leading his own and having a wife. But that the puzzle pieces fit together another way. A placid landscape instead of a skyline engulfed in flames. A ritual of Sunday night dinners at their place, holidays at hers. The mother he'd cherished and the woman he adored bonding over how important he was.

Dreams that'd crumbled under the weight of reality.

Two days ago, he'd made an emergency call to Dr. Ludlow, left a rambling, rapid message that'd filled the machine's tape. Courtesy of a patient who'd no showed, she'd called back within two hours. And thank god for that. Fury had taken up residence in every nerve ending the second Y/N had suggested a fond farewell. Signed a lease when she'd disrespected him by spending her energy on comforting a woman he didn't want to forgive. Energy she should have spent on him.

"Y/N knows what she did," he'd said, a fit of laughter aching his belly. Frustration dampened the armpits of his thermal shirt. "What- What kind of person does that?"

"Did you ask her not to go?"

"I shouldn't have had to!"

Dr. Ludlow had taken a long sip on the other end. "Emotions are high right now. That's normal. Take a deep breath." When he didn't, she repeated the instruction. Then she continued her infuriating reasonableness. "You've said that one of the things you love about Y/N is her ethics. That she does what she believes is moral. This is an extension of that, not about absolving your mother. You don't have to agree with Y/N. Being angry is all right. But she can feel how she feels. Look, do you think she has your best interest at heart?"

He'd gulped down enough irritation to answer. "Yeah..."

"Try to keep remember that. And Arthur: even though you hated Penny, it's natural to grieve. For most of your life, you loved her. Give yourself permission for both."

He browsed caskets in the display room. (Display room, arrangement room, reposing room. Every room had a sanitized name.) Back in 1945, Penny had done Arthur the courtesy of prepaying for her own funeral. In an imitation of taking this seriously, he stroked his chin, considered which casket would fit within the budget, when a refrigerator box would've sufficed. Hatred still won out.

Hand hooked in the crook of his elbow, Y/N followed at his side, a palm rubbing the center of his back. She spoke in hushed tones, with a reverence entirely unearned. Said they'd cover any extra if he preferred other options. Though she meant it as caring, it felt like fretting. He stepped out of her grip to a pine box known as Going Home.

A rack of dresses stood in the corner, inoffensive sea foam and daffodil, the pastels of Easter eggs. None of them reflected the woman he'd known, the one who wore rouge and red lipstick in spite of being a shut-in. As if she expected Thomas Wayne to suddenly waltz through the door. The funeral director opened a nearby closet and presented last summer's leftovers. The swish of a skirt recalled Arthur's requests for his mother to dance with him.

Silence ensued. He chewed a cuticle. He picked the dress with roses in Penny's favorite color.

~~~~~

The service was blessedly short. Patricia stood to his left, Y/N to his right, he was stuck in the middle in his rust-colored suit. Penny hadn't been part of a parish, so Buckley's had provided a priest, a job that struck Arthur as similar to his own. Rent a clown, rent a clergy. The Father scattered dirt, read a verse or two, something about troubled hearts and loving kindness, blah blah blah. Offered the opportunity to share stories of the dearly departed. None were.

"Fleck" looked lonely on the granite gravestone, as if waiting for a second name to be inscribed in the space under "Penny." The stone's size said its proper place was a family plot, but he wasn't planning on being buried anywhere near her. The ground was soggy from spring thaw. Y/N laid a spray of white lilies and blue statice on the fresh burial mound. Arthur counted the seconds until Patricia drove them home.

"Thanks for coming. It was nice of you," he told Patricia once she'd parked in front of his building. And he meant it.

She leaned across the bench seat for a loose hug, maternal pats on his back. "Losing a parent's hard. I'm sorry." He resisted the impulse to counter that he hadn't lost anything. That would come off as weird.

Safe and sound in 4A, he loosened his tie with one hand. Changed into pajama bottoms and put his suit in the dry-cleaning pile. Y/N sat on the side of the bed to rub the soles of her feet, hung her skirt and blazer back in the closet. He left her in bra and slip to make coffee, acting on Patricia's instruction to relax.

But as the java dripped, his mind returned to the cemetery. The coldness of the earth, that Penny would be beneath it forever. Ripples of thought that wouldn't calm. His gaze drifted to the cardboard box of her belongings, tucked against the rear side of the console stereo. Out of the way, nearly possible to ignore. Now it begged for attention, called to him, a broken record stuck on a discordant song.

He lugged the box to the dining table. Dragged the trash can to stand just under the table's edge.

Bottles of blood pressure medication and aspirin rattled under his clawing hands. There were reading glasses and makeup, the clothing he'd sent when she'd been admitted. He shoved it all away. The "Golden Years, My Ass!" mug must've been a bingo prize, because his mother wouldn't have picked it out. Ladies didn't swear. It clunked to the bottom of the garbage.

"Want any help?" Y/N asked from behind him, where coffee splashed into a mug. Her even delivery meant slow down, take it easy, don't let anger get the better of you. But anger was what drove him. And desperation to excise the dreaded feeling at the base of his throat, that the part of him that still referred to her as mom might miss her.

A decorated cigar box sat the bottom of the carton. Penne and rotini decorated the edges, shells comprised a poor attempt at a flower, painted gold with a satin finish. It recalled the costume jewelry she'd kept on the corner of her vanity, amongst spray perfume and talcum powder. He lifted the lid.

Y/N had asked if she could send photos and letters, but he'd had no awareness of how many she'd written. There must have been two dozen. He unfolded one with trembling fingers, his grip tightening on the edge of the box. The corner bit his palm.

Last month he did two sets at open mic night and got lots of laughs. He's a diligent student when it comes to comedy. (Was he just as good in social studies?) I love your son very much. He's happy performing and seeing him happy makes me happy.

He slid the crinkled paper back in the box and closed the lid, then pushed it to the side of the table furthest from the trash can. It would be the entirety of the keep pile. He could read how happy he made his wife all day.

But "he's happy..," "...your son..." Those twin phrases haunted, too close to Penny's secrets.

Throat narrow as a straw, he struggled to swallow. "Now I'll never know."

"Know what?"

"Who my father is. Who I am. My real name."

He glanced at Y/N long enough to read pity in her face but quick enough to miss the tender invitation. Coffee forgotten, he slunk to his desk. Dropped in the chair, snagged a pen. The scratching ballpoint echoed off the quiet of the apartment. Wetness burned the whites of his eyes. A defiant sniff as he wiped his nose.

She treaded behind him. Setting his mug on his desk with a deliberate slowness, she said she was going to read the paper and turned towards the couch.

His forceful grip on her wrist halted her. He crushed her to him in a fierce embrace, buried his face in her stomach, clenched his teeth. Cried for the truth he'd never know, grieved the mother he'd never have.

Fingertips threaded through his hair, gathered his curls at the nape of his neck. When Y/N spoke, the gossamer of her voice turned him right side out. "You're my husband and I love you," she said, and kissed the top of his head. "Doe, Wayne, or Fleck."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics @iartsometimes @fleckficgirl

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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allegra-writes · 4 years

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"The Game"

Tom Holland x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink.

Golf is boring. You wanna play something else...

"Swinging on the front porch, swinging on the floor.

Swinging where we want, cause there ain't nobody home..."

Cherry Pie - Warrant

He should have known it was a trap. He should have known it from the very first minute. This was punishment, plain and simple punishment. Unusually cruel punishment. He didn't even know why he was so surprised, in fact, he should have seen it coming a mile away. After all, you were about as subtle as a train wreck. And that was exactly how you had hitted him.

You had always despised golf, said it was snobbish and boring. But he always invited you to tag along just in case, because sharing one of his favorite activities with his favorite girl? That sounded almost like paradise to him. That was probably the reason why that morning, when you had jumped at the chance to join him at the country club, he hadn't suspected a thing.

Oh, how naive he was. How trusting of him. Because now, he had to play 18 while trying to conceal a throbbing, almost painful erection, watching you prance around wearing that. It was ridiculous. It was silly. It was cliche.

It was driving him completely insane.

Your little ensemble was straight out of some soft-porn movie set, he was sure of it: Keds, knee high socks… and a criminally short pleated skirt, especially designed to torture him. You guys weren't even half way through, and he was already about to snap, with his arms enveloping you, hands over yours on the handle of the club, as you bended over just a little, ass pressing against his pelvis just enough to tease him, to remind him how good it felt being buried to the hilt inside your tight, tight heat, the slapping sounds of skin against skin combining with your moans...

One of his hands let go of the club, subconsciously wrapping itself over your hip bone, when you moved, twisting, hips getting away from his.

"Oh my god! I can't believe it, did you see that?" You turned around to face him, eyes alight with joy at having hit the ball for the first time in your life.

And for a second, he felt bad. He was probably reading too much into it, chances were you didn't even know what you were doing to him. You were innocent in all that, it wasn't your fault not knowing just how damn irresistible you were, how hard you made him just by standing close to him…

Until he noticed the outline of your nipples under your white t-shirt, made almost see through under the bright sunlight. His eyes squinted in suspicion.

"Are you wearing any underwear?" He blurted out, cheeks immediately turning red, looking around to make sure no one had heard him. But there was no one around, not many people playing on a wednesday morning. In fact, you had the whole course pretty much for your selves.

His cock twitched inside his pants, but he shook himself, squashing the thought before it could take full shape.

You seemed to ignore him, as your face fell.

"I… don't think I was supposed to shoot it that way, though"

Tom's eyes followed yours, but try as he might, he couldn't find the white dot he was looking for.

"Where the hell did it go?"

"I think it landed behind those bushes" You pointed to the far away patch of hydrangeas on the other side of the field. He couldn't help the snort that left his mouth,

"Yeah, that's not even close to where it should be!"

"Hey! Don't laugh at me"

"I mean, at least we know you have a strong swing" He let out between laughs

You rolled your eyes,

"Be gentle with me, this is my first time"

The laughter died in his throat like you knew it would, as the innuendo hit him, eyes darkening as they roved over your body once again. You had to know what you were doing...

You turned around so he couldn't see your smirk, as you started walking in big strides in the direction of the bushes, leaving him to struggle to follow you, carrying the bag full of clubs.

It wasn't a bad sight, he had to admit, watching you walk ahead of him, your skirt bouncing with your movements, hips swaying gently from side to side. And it was even better as you reached the tall plants, parting the branches trying to see past them, bending over once again, your short skirt riding up your thighs, higher, and higher. He gulped, what little blood was left in his brain rushing south, as he saw the cleft where the round globes of your ass met your legs. You climbed on your tiptoes, and he choked on a groan: just a little bit more and the answer to whether you had or not any underwear on would be right before his eyes, literally…

"Found it!" You called out, victorious, falling to your heels again, walking around the lilac flowers, disappearing from sight, heedless to his disappointment.

He knew it was a bad idea, as he trailed after you, like in a trance. But there you were, waiting for him behind the tall wall of bushes hiding you both from sight from every angle, mischievous glint in your eye.

The ball was nowhere to be found, and he finally understood.

Your stomach made a flip as Tom tugged at his glove with his teeth, discarding it on the green grass, his whole demeanor changing before your eyes, jaw squaring, eyes hardening, movements slow and measured as he circled you like a tiger stalking his prey.

"You dirty little liar" He accused, watching the corners of your mouth twitch, trying to hide your satisfied smile, but it was useless: you looked every bit like the cat that got the cream. Well, he knew of another thing that looked great dripping down your chin…

"You think you're real clever, don't you? Really sneaky, teasing me all morning with this little outfit," He let his now naked hand trace your nipples, already hard under the fabric of your tee, making goosebumps erupt on your skin. He was right, you hadn't bothered with a bra, "making me hard with your little touches and smart mouthed comments…"

"Golf is boring" You shrugged, "I wanna play something else"

He stepped back, away from you, leaving you feeling cold without his heat, despite the bright sunshine.

"Too bad, baby girl, I'm done with games" His eyes were steel as he commanded, "Show me"

"Show you what?" You looked at him through your eyelashes, you knew how much he liked it when you played coy. But this time, he had told you the truth, the games were over.

"You know bloody well what" His south London accent was always heavy when his patience was wearing thin, "lift that little skirt and show me what's mine"

You obeyed, and this time, he did groan, the wet patch on the simple white cotton of your thong almost better than his fantasies of your bare skin.

He fell to his knees on the grass. God, he was so whipped! His plan had been to have you kneeling in front of him, choking on his cock as he fucked your mouth so deep and hard that tears would stream down your face. He would release himself down your throat, leaving you begging for his softening cock, his fingers, his tongue, his freaking golf club, anything to fill your empty little cunt. But of course all of that flew out the window the second he actually saw that pretty pussy through your panties, made almost transparent with your desire for him, the fabric clinging to every curve, every little detail clear for him to admire.

"Come here, baby girl" His tone was much softer as he spoke, "let daddy have a little taste"

You did as you were told, never stopping to hold your skirt up high for him. Tom nuzzled the cotton, breathing you in before hooking one finger on the damp fabric, tugging gently to the side to reveal your most secret spot to him. He let his tongue poke out, placing kitten licks against your clit, eyes rising to meet your face. Your own were closed already, little frown between your eyebrows, as if the tiny shocks of pleasure coursing through your body confused you. So expressive. So responsive.

How could he ever stay mad at you when you were so fucking perfect? It only took one taste of you to melt whatever was left of his anger, as he marveled of the angel whining so prettily above him, delicate fingers digging into his shoulders to support herself as her legs shook for him. It never failed to amaze him, to blow his mind. It had always been like that, he had put you up on a pedestal long before you had started dating.

But now, he wanted to lay you down, and spread you open under the sun.

He tsked at your huff as his tongue left you.

"No, baby, you don't get to complain today. You've been a very bad girl, so now," He helped you down onto your back on the grass, making quick work of your panties. Taking a hold of your ankles, he hooked them over his shoulders, aligning himself with your dripping center, "you're going to take my cock like a good girl"

With that, he let his head breach you, entering you slowly, so slowly. Savoring every second, sliding in inch by inch, making you feel every millimeter of his thick, thick length as he buried it into your sweet pussy, stretching you to the limits of pleasure. He had you fold almost in half, as his pelvis finally met yours. You sighed, you had thought he would burst through your ovaries before he was completely seated inside you.

"Can you feel me, babygirl? Feel how deep I am?"

You nodded, unable to form words. He relented, only a couple of inches, before surging back in.

"Feel me stretching your tight little cunt? Fuck, it feels so snug…"

He drew back again, snapping back against you harder, making you cry out,

"Yes!"

"Only I can fill you like this" He breathed, in and out again, and again. And again, establishing a harsh rhythm, "This pussy belongs to me…"

"Yes, daddy" You sobbed, obediently. By now you knew exactly what he wanted to hear. He tugged at your t-shirt, sneaking his hand under it, massaging your breast.

"These pretty tits are mine…"

It was hard to concentrate with him railing you into the ground, fast, brutal. Making sure the base of his cock dragged against your clit just right with every thrust.

"Yours, daddy" You managed, somehow, earning yourself a smile. If wolves could really smile at lambs before gobbling them right up...

He leaned forwards, bracing himself on one arm, the other travelling from your chest, to your neck. To your jaw. His tumb caressed your lower lip, and you opened up to him. Two of his fingers slid inside your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, you sucked them eagerly, hollowing your cheeks just the way he liked.

"My princess… so pretty with your mouth full" Tom praised, hips never stopping, plunging his cock into you as far as it would go, over and over again, "wanna fuck your beautiful face… but this pussy… feels too good"

You sobbed around his fingers.

"So good… won't let me go… a slave" His thrusts were becoming messy. Erratic. Tom took his fingers out of your mouth to flick your clit with them.

"No, Tommy! Too much…" You cried, pushing at his hand, overstimulated. But he wouldn't budge.

"Don't care. You're gonna take it" He growled, but sweetly kissed away your tears. He needed you to come, fast. Because there was no way he was lasting much longer, and you knew what to say if you really wanted him to stop anyway.

"Fuck… yeah, just like that" he could feel you tensing around him. You were almost there, and he was right behind you, "so good… gonna come, baby girl. Gonna come inside you…"

You shook your head, too delirious to express it with words, but he knew. You didn't like feeling dirty, didn't like the smell. But he fucking loved it.

"Oh yeah… gonna fill you up… and you're not getting those panties back" His smirk was devilish, filthy. And you were sure that, even without his cock jackhammering into you, you could have come from that look alone. "Gonna see myself dripping down your thighs as you walk…"

His movements were downright sloppy now, as his words edged himself as much as they were edging you.

"Gonna have you sit in the car just like that… ruin your fucking little skirt… OH, FUCK"

You felt his cock swell, pumping his seed inside your loins. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming, as his climax unleashed your own. Still, he kept moving,

"Gonna put your mouth around me while I drive…" There was no way the morning was ending without him having your mouth.

"Tom…" You could feel him begin to soften inside you, but he still wouldn't stop.

"Shhh, baby girl. Wanna make a mess…"

The end.

Buy me a coffee

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #arvin russel #spiderman #the devil all the time

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holy-hyuck · 3 years

Text

NCT 127 Reaction: They See You Wearing Their Clothes

Taeil:

You fell asleep in the boys’ dorm, Taeil carrying you to his room in the middle of the night. You must have been exhausted because you woke up only in the morning, the room quite cold. You only had a thin shirt on you, so you grabbed Taeil’s hoodie, once you recognised it as his, and slipped in on top of you, your jeans from the day before still intact and looking decent enough.

You walked downstairs, seeing Taeil and Taeyong in the kitchen, the latter turning on the stove to make breakfast. Looking at the clock, you realised it was a time they’d normally wake up, so you were glad you didn’t oversleep.

Taeil looked at you, his smile only widening once he saw the oversized clothing on you, a dazed expression on his face. Even Taeyong turned around and chuckled lightly, half at the way you looked, and half at Taeil’s reaction.

“What-what is that? Ah, you look so cute.”

But you could see it was making him flustered, so when you warmed up a bit, you took the hoodie off, leaving you in yesterday’s clothes.

Johnny:

"So..." Wendy started, popping a grape in her mouth, "Are you and Johnny, like, a thing?"

"What?" You scoffed. "Why would you think that?"

"Think about it; you're always together, he calls you 'babes', you have hearts next to his contact name, need I go on?"

"Yeah, and isn't that his shirt you're wearing?" Seulgi butted in, leaning her head on Wendy's shoulder.

You looked down at the black tee, indeed belonging to Johnny. "I forgot to bring spare clothes when I slept over at his." At this, the girls raised their eyebrows and looked at you with a knowing look. "No, it's not like that! Ugh, we're just friends."

Just then, you felt strong arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in a hug.

"Hi babes, hi girls. How's it going? You look nice in my shirt, by the way. Maybe I should let you borrow them more often," Johnny told you, grabbing a few grapes from the bowl for himself.

You looked over at Wendy and Seulgi, who both giggled and shook their heads.

Just friends, you mouthed to them. Unfortunately.

Taeyong:

"Isn't it Taeyong-hyung's?" You heard Mark's voice when you jumped down from the last step and skipped into the living room.

"Shh." You covered his mouth with your sweater paws, effectively shutting him up.

"Ah, I knew someone stole it." Taeyong came into the room, leaning against the doorway. You gave him a sheepish smile, rubbing your arms through the thick material of his sweatshirt.

"Sorry, I was cold. I can take it off if you want, borrow someone else's-"

"No, no, no need." He came up to you, holding you at an arms-length and checking you out in the muted blue of his top, heart fluttering. "I like how it looks on you."

Yuta:

Getting up from your seat, you cheered for Yuta, your voice drowning amongst all the others’ - and yet, the boy could hear it as clear as day, looking up to see you in the bleachers. He scored the winning goal, like you knew he would without a doubt, and perhaps that knowledge made you even more proud to be wearing his jersey, with his number on the back.

Once the two opposing teams congratulated each other, Yuta ran up the stairs to envelop you in a hug, spinning you around and grinning from ear to ear.

“You did it, you did it! I knew you would!” you exclaimed, gripping his shirt in your hands.

Yuta took this moment to plant a chaste kiss on your lips, although it turned more and more passionate by the second - to a point where you had to stop him before his coach witnessed your make-out session.

“Is that my jersey?” You nod your head enthusiastically. “Marry me.”

Your laugh pierced the voices of others leaving the stadium, and you threw your head back.

“Let me buy you dinner first.”

Doyoung:

Doyoung took off the glasses from his face, rubbing his eyes and groaning. This report wasn't going to finish itself, but his body begged him to let him sleep.

He felt the weight shift next to him and looked up to see you take his glasses into your hands. You proceeded to put them on, and looking at him, wiggled your eyebrows. He burst out laughing, at half-past-two at night, feeling you hit his shoulder to tell him not to laugh at you.

"You look ridiculous."

Not really. You looked perfect; your hair messy, old and stained shirt covering the upper half of your body, his sweatpants covering the lower, his glasses perched up on your nose. And at half-past-two at night, his sight blurry and mind hazy, he fell in love.

Jaehyun:

It was Jaehyun’s idea you wear his clothes. He always wanted to be “that couple” but was too shy to ask. So, after you got back from your date, completely soaked after the thunderstorm that started halfway through, you knew you wouldn’t be going back to your house anytime soon.

Seeing this perfect opportunity, Jaehyun took one of his jumpers and a pair of shorts and told you to change. Underwear thankfully dry, you put on his clothes, exiting the bathroom to see him making hot chocolate.

He turned around to greet you, his smile only growing bigger, his dimples showing. Screaming in excitement on the inside, he just walked up to you, embracing you in a hug, which you found strange but accepted nonetheless.

“Even better than I imagined.”

He muttered to himself, and when you gave him a questioning look, he just smiled, leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

WinWin:

WinWin never thought it would get to him as much as it did. Most of the times the two of you spent were with the other boys, the perfect opportunity to offer you his clothes being a movie night but he didn’t want to get teased by them.

The two of you were walking back from shopping, the weather not quite as nice as it was before. The wind picked up and you still had over twenty minutes to walk back to your house, and even more to the dorms.

Shivering involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around yourself to keep the cold away, but needless to say, haven’t succeeded.

With the wind blocking out some sounds, you didn’t hear the commotion next to you. Plus, Taeyong was trying to be subtle about it - that, however, wasn’t a problem with Donghyuck.

“Yah, Sicheng, aren’t you going to give (y/n) your jacket or something? You know, like a sweet boyfriend would,” he said, a hint of teasing present, as per usual.

Blushing, your boyfriend took off his hoodie, revealing a jumper underneath (so you knew he wouldn’t be that cold himself), and passed it over to you, without looking at you. You thanked him, putting it on, instantly feeling warmer. Sicheng wouldn’t look at you (besides the subtle glances) or speak to you until you arrived at your house, you promptly giving him his clothing back, and seeing how he reacted, you made a mental note to yourself to always try bringing a spare jacket with you when you two went out.

Jungwoo:

Sitting on the hood of Jungwoo's car, you scrolled through the weather forecast as your date tried to repair the vehicle.

"It says there's an eighty-three percent chance of rain," you told him, looking back to see him sigh and lean back on the driver's seat. Cursing under his breath, he got out of the car and towards you.

"Just because it says there's a chance doesn't mean-" he cut himself off when he felt the first droplets of rain fall onto his skin, and suddenly it was pouring; and there you were, laughing, hair and clothes soaked. "Here."

He took off his leather jacket, leaving him in nothing more than than a thin white tee, and wrapped it around you. The material was heavy, and it was useless at this point but you didn't want to tell him that. He held the sides and smiled down at you.

Clearing your throat, you looked away from him. "I'll call a taxi," you told him, walking away to hide inside the car.

"Wait!" You turned around, and Jungwoo grabbed the sides of the jacket, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a kiss. Although surprised at first, you quickly regained your senses and placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him even closer. You've never kissed in the rain but it was perfect. Everything about Jungwoo was.

"And by the way," Jungwoo started when you finally pulled away, "you look great in my clothes."

Mark:

It was so cold, so unbelievably cold in Mark's apartment. You told him to fix the heating but he's been too busy binging Netflix to bother. Shivering in your thin tee, you rummaged through Mark's closet for something warm to wear. If he wasn't going to get the heating sorted, you were going to steal every last one of his hoodies until he had no other choice.

Throwing the black, oversized hoodie over your head, you made your way downstairs and plopped on the couch beside him, making him turn his attention away from the TV screen and towards you.

"Is that my- Is that my hoodie?"

"Yes, it is. Actually, it's now mine, at least until you get the heating fixed." You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

Laughing, he threw his arms around you and started mumbling into your neck.

"Gosh, you're so cute, you have no idea."

You let out a whine, surrendering. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Haechan:

You clipped your hair back with the lonely bobby pin in your pocket, pulling the jacket around you tighter to brace yourself for the ruthless winds outside. Exiting the shop with Donghyuck by your side, you picked up your pace to make it home before it became any colder or windier - which it did, a minute into your journey.

The wind made your eyes water and you shrunk yourself, head down, ignoring your boyfriend, who began failing to catch up to you.

Suddenly, you felt something warm wrap around your neck and turned around to find your boyfriend securing his scarf around it, unzipping your jacket to tuck it underneath, then zipping it back up. It left his neck exposed due to the low-cut t-shirt he wore under his leather jacket, and you frowned at the sight of it, opening your mouth to protest before he interrupted you.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. You look like you need it more than me."

Wrapping his arm around you, thus offering you even more of his body's warmth, he led you towards his apartment, where he made you hot cocoa and cuddled you until felt warm again.

You still didn't take off his scarf, and he never asked for it back.

#nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #taeil reactions #johnny reactions #taeyong reactions #yuta reactions #doyoung reactions #jaehyun reactions #winwin reactions #sicheng reactions #jungwoo reactions #mark reactions #haechan reactions #donghyuck reactions

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Nobody Left Behind

Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon

it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much

Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes

Word Count: 2935

Ohana means family.

Family.

FamILY.

What a weird word.

Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.

Remus wasn’t born.

He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.

Just his brother’s.

Is his brother his family?

By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?

That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.

The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.

Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.

The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.

Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.

Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.

Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?

When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.

Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.

Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.

But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.

…when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.

Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.

Only to be met with a blank wall.

He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

He remembers thinking that was a lie.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.

Roman was fine.

Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.

Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.

Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.

And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.

But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.

But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.

But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.

Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.

And that was…wrong.

Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.

But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.

But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.

But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.

Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.

Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.

He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.

Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.

But no.

Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?

“Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”

“Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”

“What for, kiddo?”

“I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”

Remus’s chest had started to hurt.

“The whole family.”

The whole family.

Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.

His family.

He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.

Wait.

Where is it?

No, no, no, no—

Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—

The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.

He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.

Because Ohana means family.

Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

——————————————————

There’s a knock on his door.

Why is someone knocking on his door?

They knock again.

Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.

The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.

The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.

“So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”

Roman?

Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.

“Remus? Are you okay?”

“Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.

“It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?

“Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”

Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.

“Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”

Remus nods dumbly.

“I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”

Help? Why does Roman want to help?

Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.

“…sure.”

“Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”

Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.

“Did you make them?”

Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.

“Don’t.”

Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.

“I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”

“…floor.”

Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.

“Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”

Worried? About him? Remus snorts.

“You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”

“But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”

Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.

“I was with my family.”

Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”

Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”

Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.

“…are they your family, Remus?”

“Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”

Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?

“Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”

“You did forget me.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Oh.

“…you didn’t?”

Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”

“But everybody leaves me.”

If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”

“You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”

“Oh, Remus—“

Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—

What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—

“What’re you doing?”

“It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”

Oh.

“R-Ro?”

“Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”

Roman…Roman likes him?

Roman chooses him?

Roman won’t…leave?

“No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”

“No.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s it.

Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.

“I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”

The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.

After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.

“…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”

Roman’s smile lights up.

“Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”

Ohana means family.

Family means no one gets left behind.

Or forgotten.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #they're the main focus #creativitwins

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ingravinoveritas · 2 years

Note

I adore Michael's thighs so much. They always send me into a sort of trance in that last bench scene in good omens. They are so thicc and glorious and look like they are full of power. Made even better by the contrast of sitting next to David in that scene with his very slender legs. Michael also looks like he's majorly packing in that scene ;) David is one lucky man.

Grouping these together for some Michael Sheen love/lust on your Saturday night.

Anon #1, I could not agree with you more regarding Michael’s thighs. I’ve written just recently on my blog about David having a thing for men who are bigger/thiccer than he is, and how Michael fits that soft/strong paradigm to a tee. I also wrote an homage of sorts to Michael’s thighs a while back, and how they are so powerful and such a glorious part of his athletic build, a physique that often is misunderstood in Hollywood because Michael doesn’t fit that stereotypical leading man “ideal.”

I think this has had some consequences unfortunately, which have led to Michael feeling self-conscious about his appearance. It is truly a travesty, because he is so very handsome, and I agree with you Anon #2 about using “handsome” for Michael versus “beautiful” for David, as I feel that Michael’s features are a bit more traditionally masculine, whereas David has oodles of a certain androgynous quality that allows him to be defined as neither overwhelmingly masculine nor overwhelmingly feminine, but as effortlessly drifting somewhere in between.

But nowhere have I seen anyone living quite so perfectly at that intersection of soft yet strong as Michael Sheen. If I had to pinpoint one moment for me where Michael’s thighs induce that trance-like state you mentioned, Anon #1 (and the last bench scene in GO certainly is a close contender), it has to be this scene of Michael as Roland Blum in The Good Fight:

I mean...this is thighs, this is (pronounced) bulge action, this is everything. I only wish that Aziraphale’s trousers were as impeccably tailored as Roland’s, because I think David would forget how to form sentences if he saw Michael in these. I’ve written previously about David’s kinks on my blog, but I think I need to add to the list, because I can absolutely see David worshiping Michael’s thighs. Kissing them, leaving bruising love bites all over them, whimpering at the feeling of them slapping against the backs of his own thighs, gasping when Michael holds him in his lap and bounces David up and down just with the power of those thighs...

Oh, yes. So many gorgeous possibilities. But I think for David what it comes down to is letting Michael know how attractive he is, that his body is perfect just the way it is, and reminding him that he deserves to be loved. Just like how Michael would (and most likely has) done the same for David. They truly do fit together so well, in every way conceivable, and I’m so very glad that they have each other.

So yes, David is quite lucky, as are we all. My thanks to you both for writing in, and to quote one of my favorite movies:

#anonymous #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #thinking about David in Staged encouraging Michael to wear shorts #suddenly i understand the meaning of the word 'ngk'#david tennant knows what's up #honestly they're both so hot in completely different ways #michael sheen thirst #yes #ineffable lovers #discourse

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king-bito · 3 years

Text

Vanta Black is a butt

I’m sorry, this is my first Drabble or whatever this is, I didn’t proof read it, I don’t really know what my intention was here.. I’m not a writer, I do digital art, but there’s so little Shihai smut out there I thought I would add my bad writing to the small pile xD

I’m SO SORRY.

Pairing: Shihai Kuroiro x Reader

Characters are in their mid twenties.

Rating: Explicit

MINORS DO NOT INTERRACT

Warnings: Dub-Con, Predator/Prey Dynamic, Quirk use, Smut

It’s been a long day, it’s 10pm and you just exited the cinema alone, your friend, who decided to make the whole movie about kissing, making out, and blowing their newly acquired boyfriend, ditched you early in favour of going home with him.

Oh how wonderful it felt to be a third wheel. You’d resigned and accepted your fate, opting to take your time, grabbing a coffee at concession before leaving.

It’s Friday night and there’s still a buzz of nightlife, just barely starting to pick up. Luckily you lived nearby so you wouldn’t have to suffer atrocious cab fares, and the awkward conversations that you always felt cornered into.

You take a deep breath, finishing off the last of your beverage and tossing it into the trash and beginning your walk home, pulling together your jacket to ward off the cold bite of the night air.

————

It’s only 2 blocks from your apartment when you hear what sounds like distressed meows coming from a dark alley. Was it a cat? Fuck, it’s too cold on a night like this to just ignore it. You aren’t the bravest person, and dimly lit alleyways threw up about a dozen warning signals, but these small, infantile kitten meows had you falter and pause.

Biting your lip, you decide to suck it up. You can’t abandon a little kitty out here..

Oh how wonderfully gullible you are.

As you near a filthy dumpster with so many tags on it you can’t even make out a single letter, a cold breeze makes you shiver, it travels up your spine making you feel unsettled. For some reason the meows stopped when you began to enter the alley, and as you pull your arms around yourself for comfort to try and quell the fear, you peer around some stray boxes and trash bags, hoping to locate the abandoned animal.

You let out a gasp as something moves, you suppress a scream and tumble back against the brick wall, panting, heart beating rapidly.

There is nothing.

You swallow, you must have imagined it right?

Suddenly you feel something warm grab your wrists from behind, instinctively you try to pull forward but whatever is holding you is like a vice. Looking down you see pitch black hands wrapped firmly around your dainty wrists and then a low, whispering voice hits your ear.

“Hello little mousy~” Out from the dark brick behind you, a mans face with charcoal pigmented skin is pushing out from the darkness, his deep, dangerous tone terrifying and a little too provocative. Your first reaction is to bolt, and as you yank yourself away (purely at the mercy of this strange man in a wall letting your wrists go), you fall to the ground, turning to back yourself up against the opposite wall, resting on your now scraped palms. “W-what the hell?!” You stammer, taking in the sight before you.

Oh how cute.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, hoping to draw the attention of someone, anyone, nearby.

...

A deep chuckle cuts through the cold silence between you, and you watch as the head moves forward, more of his body emerging from the wall, and now, you get the chance to fully drink in his features. He’s handsome, well, what little you can make out in the low light against impossibly dark skin. His eyes are hooded and seductive, they study you with each breath you take. His lips are lightly pursed into a small smirk, they look perfect on his sharp jawline. His face is framed by a mop of thick silver hair that flicks out in an unruly manner over his cheeks and the back of his neck. The man is clad in a black coat, grey denim jeans, and a low cut v-neck tee, where you can make out his defined collarbones disappearing beneath the lapels of his long coat.

“Aww.. did I scare the poor little thing?” The man coos out gently, and the twisted smile he wears tells you very clearly this was all just fun cruelty to him.

“O-Of course you did! Who the fuck does tha-“

“Shihai” he interrupts you.

“What?”

“My name is Shihai Kuroiro, but you may call me Kuro.”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is.” You blurt out, getting yourself back to your feet and pressing yourself against the cold brick as if it would get you any further away from this..thing.

“You should. You will. Pretty thing like you couldn’t help but come to the pitiful little meows of a kitten, you didn’t even think, did you?”

“I-I…”

“I’m not even very good at making those sounds.. and yet you wandered all the way down an unlit alley, where oh, I don’t know…” Shihai steps forward and places his palms either side of your shoulders. He’s taller than you, lean, but sturdy in build, and his every languid movement was filled with its own strength and purpose. “...anyone could take advantage of you."

"I saw you in the cinema," He continued."you and your so called friend, she certainly had a good time, didn’t she?” He muses, leaning down so his wild grey-ish locks tickle your temple, his breath fanning over your neck as he spoke.

You can’t help but go red at the closeness, there was no doubt he was hot, he was very much your type and when was the last time you had a good fuck? Too long, that was for sure. But this guy was being a real creep! Not to mention scaring you half to death like some sort of twisted predator…

“Such a shame they didn’t invite you along with them.. then again, if they had, I wouldn’t have been able to get you alone like this… so cute, so flushed.. and my.. so easy.” He growls darkly, carding his fingers through your hair, and slowly curling his hand into a fist to grab a handful and yank gently. “Have some fun with me…” You knew this wasn’t an offer, but an inevitable demand, and against your quickly disappearing better judgement, you nodded meekly. Fuck it.

———————

The next few minutes are a blur, as you find yourself naked beneath Shihai, panting and mewling as his mouth works your nipple, sucking and nibbling while his hand massages and kneads your other breast. “K-...Kuro…” You gasp, arching your back and grabbing a fistful of his hair. You throw your head back and pant to the pulsing in your core, deft fingers of Shihai’s free hand thrusting in and out of you while curling them expertly.

The man is ravenous as he attacks that spongey spot inside you, his mouth hotly working up your neck and leaving an all manner of marks in his wake. You let out a guttural moan, writhing underneath his frame, pressing your chest to his and rocking your hips against his fingers, chasing your orgasm like a woman starved.

So Shameless

You weren’t quite sure how he got you to this room so quickly from the city street, no doubt it had to be some weird quirk that came with his abnormal allearance but you were hardly complaining once he stripped you, and himself down and practically threw you onto the bed to jump you.

“So beautiful.. so good for me, little mouse…” he coos, growling shortly after as he notices your body giving him telltale signs of your impending release. “Kuro.. please.. I-I’m..” You whine loudly as he pulls his fingers out of you abruptly, ceasing his administrations in full and repositioning himself above you. “Uh-uh-uh..~” Shihai keens, tutting before capturing your mouth in a lust filled kiss and pressing his tongue to your lips, demanding access. Your pitiful whine of protest offers him the perfect opening as he slides his tongue into your mouth and dominates you entirely, a free hand pushing your hips down to stop your pitiful bucking. “Mmmphhh~” You moan into his mouth, running your hands up and down his chest and ribs, feeling the muscles move and tense and admiring each contraction as he moves to line himself up.

“You only get to cum on my dick, understand~?” His voice is smooth like butter when he breaks the kiss, bringing his hand up to lick your ample juices from his fingers in a lewd display. He nearly moans when he tastes you, eyes fluttering closed as he savours your taste, slowly and teasingly sucking every digit clean. “Oh.. so delicious, little one. I’ll be sure to clean you up properly when we’re done…” He grins, sliding his tongue out of his mouth provocatively, causing you to whimper.

It’s only when you feel his hips move do you realise he had slowly been lining himself up with your dripping entrance, rolling them to push the tip of his leaking cock into your stretched hole, the movement drawing a long, loud moan from you. Fuck, you didn’t even get a good look at it in the heat of things, but fuck if it didn’t feel massive as it slowly stretches you out around the sheer girth.

Shihai hums contently, clearly holding back his sounds in favour of composure and control as he slowly, smoothly, sheaths himself into your heat. The stretch hurts, and is taking a little too long to grow accustomed to as you look up at the stunningly biz are creature above you. You raise a hand to his cheek, admiring his smooth warm skin and slight changes in shade as he grows hotter and hotter from the workout, and you offer the first gentle touch of the night to him, as re-assurance he can move, yes, but also an attempt to connect, and as his eyes dart to you’s, you swear you could see his cheeks reddening a little.

Shihai shakes his head and lowers himself down to bite and nibble at your neck, slowly beginning to rock his hips back and forth. “So.. so tight, you really are a sweet little thing aren’t you” he manages between thrusts that grow in intensity. “Fuck, you’re practically sucking me in, beautiful.” he grunts, a shudder racking his spine as you continue to touch him tenderly.

“A-ahmmm… Kuro!” You groan, breaths becoming an uneven pant, you lean back to give him better access to your neck and guide his hand up to your breast again as you start to move your hips in time with his, lifting your knees to let him hit deeper and deeper inside of you. “I wanna… mmmmphhhh! Shit.. I need to…” you feel the tightness building in your stomach.

The pace quickens and the new angle has him hitting that perfect spot inside of you. He’s bracing himself on one hand, and with his other, he’s squeezing and gently teasing your pebbled nipple beneath his fingertips.

“Hahn… gonna cum? Go on… you can do it. Cum all over my cock.”

You throw your head back again and wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into you with each thrust until your walls clench and contract around his dick, making it twitch and pulse as you both reach your high, coming undone at once.

—————————-

Kuroiro takes surprisingly good care of you after multiple rounds of intense orgasms, he cleans you up with a warm damp cloth, feeds you, and gives you water before you damn near pass out in his bed. As he settles in beside you, scooting up to try and make you roll over so he can spoon you, you reach up to cup his cheek in your hand, your sleepy expression sweet and lazy. “...You’re still a creep..” You murmur gently, causing him to look at you with a little shock. He opens his mouth to retaliate, but you cut him off before he can get a stupid cocky remark in. “...but this was amazing. Do you think next time we could start…. with an actual date?”

His mouth opens again, this time he’s speechless. “Wait.. r-really? You’d.. you’d like to…?”

“Shhhh…” you nod, smiling gently as you roll over and shuffle back into him.

What you’re too tired to notice, is the heat coming from his cheeks, ears, and neck. Shit, he thought if he could just remain in control he wouldn’t become a stammering blushing mess. You weren’t supposed to like him! Nor ask him out!

But you had to be a cute little sweetheart and flip the tables on his plan.

#shihai kuroiro #Shihai Kuroiro x reader #lemon #smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #bnha x reader #vanta black x reader #first time doing this please go easy on me

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xeulousluv · 3 years

Text

Almost

AN: Hello everyone, I am fairly new to posting on this app, so therefore I am still learning how to use it. Hehe :) Anyways, I hope you are having a great day!

Warning: Nothing really, maybe a little bit of angst?

Zayn and Y/n broke up and all he’s left with are the videos she took during their senior year of high school.

September 1st, 2010:

The camera was set up in her hand as she was slightly fixing her hair, a huge smile plastered on her makeup covered face. He always thought she looked better without makeup, but sometimes you couldn’t beat the insecurities.

“Here we are, the first day of senior year! How are we feeling, Zayn?”

Next to her stood himself, a much younger version of himself. Two years to be exact. He was almost unrecognizabel, with his usual high school attire adoring his body. A white tee-shirt, black skinny jeans, and not to mention his varsity football jacket hanging off of his shoulders. She looked lovingly at her boyfriend, her eyelashes beating against the softness of her rounded cheeks.

“I’m ready to get out of here, the last three years were the upmost worst years of my life.” Zayn spoke truthfully, he hadn’t expected to make it past the ninth grade, but with the help of Y/n, he managed to make it all the way to his graduating year. Y/n gave him an offended look before responding, “Hey! If it weren’t for these last three years, you would’ve never met me, let alone had the courage to talk to me. Am I really that bad?”

She laughed out while speaking, all so he knows that she is joking and would never accuse him of thinking such things. Though, he was already two steps ahead of her and was laughing along at her sad attempt of looking offended. “Of course not, baby. You are what kept me going.” With that, Zayn kissed her temple and she let out a small giggle before stopping the camera.

September 5th, 2010:

Random small talk was heard on the computer sitting in front of Zayn, before her face showed with a bright glow. She was so beautiful it almost hurt. She was laughing at something her friend Emery said, though it was completely inaudible, he just let the smile take over his face hearing her laugh again.

“I don’t exactly know why I turned this on, but hello! We successfully made it through the first week of school, and let me just say, it was not fun. The teachers still hate me.” Again, Y/n laughed towards the camera.

“I remember this one time last year when Mr. Lambert threw me out of class because I wouldn’t stop laughing. In my defence, he was talking about the safety of condoms and Zayn kept mocking him. That was a detention worth going to.” Zayn remembered that day clearly. He sat to the left of Y/n, Mr. Lambert’s first mistake, and would whisper in her ear how he would show her the proper way to wear a condom when they got to her house that night. To say he did end up showing her was an understatement.

The camera then turned to her friend before she continued on with what she was saying, “Anyways, Emery here, has informed me about this back to school party for seniors at Anthony Stilettos house. So, we are heading to the mall so we can get a nice looking outfit for tonight. I’ll see you guys later!” And with that the camera switched off.

He thought that was the end of the video, but when she popped back on his screen, he was pleasantly surprised. She wore a black dress that just reached her knees, the end of it rippled and flew each time she took a step. Her hair and makeup was done, and her shoes matched her dress, she really was the most beautiful person he has ever met.

Without saying anything, Y/n moved the camera to where the view was now on Emery. She wore a simple tight red dress that fit her like a glove, she was placing bobby pins in her hair before realising a camera was watching her every move. Emery turned away from the mirror Y/n had in her room, and started making random poses into the camera. The video finally ended with Y/n facing the camera back to herself while laughing at it.

October 7th, 2010:

It was homecoming. Their final homecoming, and of course, Zayn asked her to be his date. He didn’t go all out like the previous years, this particular year was asked right after they finished giving each other their all. They were bunched up together, all sweaty and breathless, and that is when Zayn asked her to go to homecoming with him. He thought it was gross because of their previous activities, but Y/n thought it was sweet, endearing even. It was personal and intimate, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Plus, she was tired of all the attention that comes with getting asked to homecoming.

Her dress was a beautiful shade of baby yellow, Zayn wore his usual black suit but with a yellow tie and a yellow rose pinned to his coat pocket. The night couldn’t have been anymore magical.

“Z, are you ready to go? Emmy and Dallas are waiting in the car.” Her soft voice echoed through the speakers, she was worried about being late. But more so, excited about what the night had planned for the couple. Zayn was fixing his hair, like he does any other day, however today, he wanted to look his absolute best. “Just one more second, love. Gotta look perfect before leaving these four secured walls.”

Y/n rolled her eyes into the camera before another smile took over her face. It only got wider as he finally announced that he was ready.

“Baby, you look handsome! You don’t need all that hair gel, make one wrong move and we’re calling you Uncle Jesse.” Zayn scoffed, his hands finding their place on her hips, him being pressed up against her back. His chin resting on her shoulder, they looked so in love. They were so in love.

October 31st, 2010:

Fall was Y/n’s favorite season, meaning Halloween was by far her favorite holiday. She squealed into the camera when Zayn walked out in his Peter Pan costume. “Baby, you look so fucking adorable!” She cooed, though Zayn was having none of it. “Do we have to go to this party? Can’t we just stay in and watch scary movies, I promise I will protect you if you get too scared!”

He knew it was no use, Y/n had been going on and on about Anthony’s costume party for the past week, so when she started laughing, Zayn internally groaned. “Brave of you to assume I will get scared during a horror movie. How about we go for just an hour, then you and I can come back here and watch whatever movie you want?”

At that, his ears perked, he could go for an hour. That gives him all the more time alone with his love. “Hocus Pocus? That’s my favorite.”

“Yes baby, we can watch Hocus Pocus, do this for me, and I’m all yours for the rest of the night.” A grin was stretched across his face as she leaned up and gave a peck to his lips. Adoration shining brightly in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You are so lucky I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you, Zayn. More than you will ever know.”

December 31st, 2010:

“Hola, my favorite people! Happy New Years Eve, I hope you guys are having a good day. My family is having a little party to bring in the new year, even though you won’t be watching this until later when I decide to post it, I hope you guys have an amazing holiday. Be safe now. Bye!”

Christmas and New Year’s was hard for Y/n. She had major separation anxiety for everyone she grows close to, so not being able to see the people she loves for a whole two weeks was taking a toll on her. Not to mention, Zayn went back to Bradford for the holidays, so he wasn’t there to keep her calm. All she had was the emails and messages he would send her.

However, that night was different. She didn’t know what it was, but the air felt more intoxicating. There was something she was missing and the young girl couldn’t put her finger on it.

Emery got ahold of Y/n’s camera without her noticing, pressing the ‘record’ button and smiling.

“Hi, as many of you may know, my name is Emery White. Before questions start racing through your head about where Y/n is, she is currently in the kitchen talking to one of her neighbors, and she knows nothing about this so, shhh!” Emery held her index finger up to her mouth, even though she is talking to a camera.

“So, the time is now 11:58, meaning it is almost New Year’s and I got a message from a good friend of mine to get her camera and start recording. Oh wait, she’s coming over! Act normal!”

“Emmy? Why do you have my camera, wait no, when did you get my camera?” Emery turned her neck to look at Y/n, and smiled while looking at her friends confused face. “It’s almost midnight, I figured we could record the big moment for your journal thing.”

Y/n looked at her watch and sure enough, it was 12:59, and the people around her were counting down. By the time Y/n looked back at her friend, Emery had switched her position to behind the camera, her smile now stretching to her eyes. She gave a confused smile towards the camera before shaking her head.

10..

9..

8..

A tap was felt on Y/n’s shoulder making her turn around, not believing her eyes, she had to do a double take. There he was in all of his glory. Zayn stood in front of her with a bouquet of random flowers, her eyes widening in complete shock.

3..

2..

Before she could fully process his presence, Zayn had planted his lips against hers in what he would call, one of their best kisses. His arms went around her waist while hers were around his neck, keeping him as close as humanly possible. She was the first to pull away from the kiss, tears forming at the bottom of her eyes but never fell. Zayn pulled her back, this time her face went into his neck as he whispered out a small, “Happy New Years, baby.”

May 22nd, 2011:

Senior prom, a day Y/n has waited her entire life for. Getting all dolled up for one night of perfection sounded glorious. Unlike most people, her dress doesn’t reach the floor but goes a little ways past her knees. It was a light shade of green, she wasn’t usually one for the cliche pink and blue, and her stomach was laced over showing her belly button peircing. She felt on top of the world, the most gorgeous she has ever felt in her entire life.

Zayn was in a nude tuxedo, a lightish green tie tucked into the blazer. “It’s prom day, baby, how do you feel?” The now well-known camera placed in front of his face, though he paid no attention to it, but really the girl behind it. “Like I have the most beautiful girlfriend in the world. How did I get so lucky, hm?”

The blush was evident on her face, he could see it perfectly now even with the camera facing him and not herself. He could still see the light in her eyes. Looking back on it, he couldn’t imagine living his life without her, how could he let her go?

It wasn’t like they got in a fight or anything, Zayn and Y/n were going to different colleges and he didn’t want to do the whole long distance thing. He felt she deserved better than that. So even though the breakup was absolutely not a mutual agreement, Y/n somewhat understood and let him walk away.

“You’re such the charmer, Zayn. Always got me blushing for no good reason.”

“I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t.”

Now turning the camera to face both of them, Zayn placed a kiss on her lips before turning off the camera and letting their night go on as best as it could, for it would be one of the last good memories they have. Except at the time, neither of them knew the last time would actually be the last time.

June 4th, 2011:

“Hey everyone, I just want to start off by saying congratulations, we made it. Graduating today was the most amazing feelings, and I’m sure you all can agree with me. The past four years have really taught me a lot, I know I sound like the Mallory Barnes, our valedictorian that gave the speech today, but I’m serious, you all have been amazing. Teachers included.”

Y/n wasn’t in her usual attire. She was in a comfortable baggy hoodie, and that’s all you could see as her camera was propped on the desk in the corner of the room. Her hair was in a messy bun, no makeup, and her glasses were sat perfectly on her nose. What no one could notice was the slight puffiness to her eyes, the way they were red and tired. But Zayn noticed, however. When Y/n first uploaded this to her instagram, Zayn couldn’t bare to watch it, so seeing it now definitely brought back a feeling he tried too hard to push away.

“In the past four years I have learned about friendships, I learned about love, and I learned about heartbreak. I have got to say, high school brought me some really great friendships that I will cherish forever. I am finding it very difficult to say goodbye, but we are bound to go off and do bigger and better things. The future awaits for us.”

“I just want to thank you guys for the amazing memories, and I hope you guys make your dreams come true.” Y/n sighed into the camera, she was really bad at saying goodbye, though you would think it would be easier considering no one likes high school. However, Y/n loved every single second of it, maybe not the learning but the memories made.

“Now, I am going to get really sappy for a minute and say a massive thank you to the man who has loved me for the past four years. Zayn, I know we haven’t talked in a few weeks, and you’re probably not even watching this, but just know that I am so proud of you. I don’t know how I could not be. I really hope you make something wonderful of yourself. You were by far my favorite part of this journey. Thank you for sticking with me and for loving me. And even though we aren’t together anymore, I love you.”

“We almost had it all, didn’t we?”

AN: Yeah, I don't think I like this babahahah. Love the concept but someone out there could definitely write it better.

#zayn mailk #zayn x reader #zayn malik fanfic #zayn malik angst #angst fanfic

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader smut

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

Still The Louvre (m)

A/N: Someone requested this and I hope you like it! This happens when you have Lorde’s Melodrama on repeat whilst writing…thanks for inspiring me queen (although I’m not sure why breakup songs made me write this lol) Also Merry early Christmas to those who celebrate!! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fluff, smut, car sex, childhood friends to lovers, a tiny bit of angst but only for 0.5 minutes maybe, I hope this heals someone who’s given up on finding love, you all deserve someone who sees the best in you!!!

words: ~ 3.9 k

“We’re just friends. Guys and girls can be friends! We’ve always been best friends, ever since we were seven. Nothing more.” That’s what you used to say. Now look who was the clown in those conversations all along. You guessed correctly - it was you. Because on your sixteenth birthday, he showed up in his black tee and baseball jacket, with your favorite candy and a heart-shaped necklace. Little did he know, if you could, you would have carved his initials into it, right there and then. Because it was that day, you understood one thing. You were head over heels in love with your best friend.

You would have been the perfect high school sweethearts – had it not been for the three different girls he had dated instead of you. He always had all their hearts, the only thing he needed to do was pick. And who could blame the other girls? He was all you could ever ask for, so there was no point in being bitter about their adoration for him.

Multiple times, you had tried to convince yourself you were over him. Like when you went out with one of the popular guys, only to realize three dates in that he was the possibly most boring person you had ever encountered. Or like that one time you agreed to go to prom with the class clown. He almost made you spit out your drink of laughter all night long, but when he tried to stick his tongue down your throat at the end of it all, you changed your mind. Your most successful boyfriend stayed for a full six months, before leaving you. He had been jealous of your relationship with your best friend. And you couldn’t even resent it. Your then-boyfriend had been in second place all along, and you should have never even dated him.

Long story short, whenever you looked at boys, you compared them to your best friend. And your best friend was an invincible competitor. It was safe to say, your teenage years weren’t what the films made them out to be. Except if there was a movie about a girl who cried so much about her best friend who she loved, she almost thought there was something seriously wrong with her. Some days the pain was so heavy, you’d get mad at him for no reason. Then you’d have to tell him lies that wouldn’t worry him and move on. Who could you tell? Your best friend was the one supposed to help you through boy trouble, wasn’t he? Yeah, that wasn’t going to work for you.

But that was the past. Lately, life was better. You couldn’t pinpoint when you first noticed the way he looked at you. Was it when he told you he felt like no boy in the world would be good enough for you, so maybe he should date you instead? It sounded like a joke, but his eyes said differently. Or was it when he asked you to sleep in his bed instead on his spare mattress at one of your sleepovers you’d had since you were eleven? He held you without words being shared, and neither of you addressed it in the morning. Maybe you both knew what it meant, either way. The mere thought of him liking you back was almost unbelievable for you. But after last night, you had no doubt. You had been in the elevator in the cinema with him. It was only ten seconds, and before you could have kissed his face that was inches from yours, the doors had opened. But he had chuckled and grinned at you for thrice the time afterwards. As if you had a new inside joke now.

It seemed you both knew what you wanted. But were you willing to take your friendship to that level?

Today, you were sure you were willing. Your heart almost ached in desire for him when you saw him standing with your shared friends. There, on the beach in the dark of night, with a bonfire drawing the warmest orange glow on his skin, you thought he had never looked more handsome. It was a small get-together between old school friends you both hadn’t seen in a while. And you should have been all over them, asking them about their lives and how they’ve been. Instead you only had eyes for the person you saw every day of your life. You swore you’d never get enough of his sweet smile and eyes so trustworthy you wanted to put all your deepest secrets right into his hands. His chest was heaving from laughter as he pat his friend’s shoulder in agreement. Oh, how dearly you wanted that hand to slip into your very own.

It was a warm night, you had been eating marshmallows, sharing genuine laughter and looking up at the stars and the full moon. Only one thing could have made your experience better, or one person, rather. You silently cursed yourself, because the night was coming to an end – some people had already left – and you still hadn’t made your move on him like you had planned it. But then your song played from the speaker. The very song you two always played in your car whenever you drove somewhere together. Every small beat reminded you of him and the lyrics were carved into your heart, it seemed.

When he noticed, his eyes shot up and met yours. They crinkled up into a smile that you returned. Finally, he made his way over to you and automatically your arms opened for him. Like coming home, he melted into your figure, arms mellow around your body. Quietly, he sang along into your ear, like every little word was meant just for you. You only pulled away slightly, so you could look at each other’s faces. You could’ve cried, realizing the time you had waited for him had been worth it after all. He was giving you a look you had thought would be forever reserved for other girls – but never for you. The starry sky above you wouldn’t stand a chance compared to his dreamy eyes and the fresh ocean air could easily be forgotten, if it meant to be in his arms and breathe in his familiar scent. If you leaned forward only a little, you could kiss him.

“Guys, we’re headed off,” a voice interrupted you.

“We should get going too, don’t you think?” he said. Almost mechanically, you nodded. You reminded yourself that you would still be in the car with him for twenty minutes until you’d arrive at home. And he’d stay at your place. You had him all night long. As you walked to your car, his hand brushed against yours softly, and you weren’t sure if it was just an accident, at first. But he was smiling as if he knew everything when you looked over at him and there you had your answer. The moment he had sat down in the passenger seat of your car, he was digging around for a CD to play. He settled for a playlist he had made for you in spring.

There was so much to be said and simultaneously silence had never felt more comfortable while you drove. You were going south along the high cliffs to your right. It was truly the most beautiful part of your hometown.

“I hate driving here,” you said.

“You don’t like driving along the cliffs? Too dangerous?” he asked.

“No. It’s too beautiful here to just look straight ahead at the road,” you said. He chuckled.

“We can stop at the tourist spot if you want to look at the sea,” he suggested. You smiled because he knew you so well. The ‘tourist spot’ really was a small parking spot right by the road, with space for about ten cars. You could already see it ahead of you. On sunny days lots of people driving down the coast liked to stop there for a rest and to take photos. Now, it was completely empty, of course. You parked at the spot closest to the cliff, so you could look down at the sea without having to get out of your car.

The slow playlist he had made for you was still playing when you switched off the engine. You knew right then and there, no matter where the night went, you’d remember this moment forever. The glow of the full moon was sparkling on the wild billows beneath you. Your eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment, as if you could have seen the closest island if only you paid enough attention. But it was only a wild vastness seemingly without end. Momentarily, you thought you spotted something in the water. Whales? But when you looked closer, there was nothing but the white and dark blue colors of the tempestuous waves.

“It’s gorgeous,” you spoke into the silence, your chin resting on your forearms on the steering wheel. You waited for his response. When it didn’t come, you turned to look his way. He was already looking at you. If cupid was real, he had just fired another arrow at your heart. Never could you have guessed how your best friend’s foolish grin could have made your heart skip a beat like this. Without another thought entering your head, you bent over to him. He knew what it meant when you mirrored his smile.

And then, you closed your eyes. You could admit it now - every time you had blown out your birthday candles, this was all you had ever wished for. His lips fit so perfectly onto yours. After the amount of times you had imagined it, really kissing him still was so much better than it had ever felt in your wildest dreams. His hands tangled in your hair and you almost couldn’t breathe. But then again, you didn’t need to. Right then, you didn’t need anything but him. For the first time, you touched the back of his neck in the way you had always wanted to – to pull his mouth closer to yours.

When you pulled away, everything in you screamed ‘Do it again! Now!’. It was as if your mind was worried that he would slip right through your fingertips if you didn’t hold him close to you for the rest of your life. Too many times you had thought that maybe you could have him, only to be let down because your hopes were too high.

“When did you first want to do this?” you asked, because you needed to know.

“About four months ago, probably. What about you?” he said. His hand was still on yours, as if to say “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere”.

“Ever since I was sixteen,” you said. You could have lied, but what was the use? You loved him too much to ever deceive him. His eyes widened. His hurt was yours, and so you understood the way your words must had pierced through his heart. Now he knew. You could practically read it in his eyes, how he realized the pain, the jealousy and disappointment he had caused, for years, without ever intending to do so. And although you should have wanted him to understand your hurt, the guilt and pain in his look was unbearable.

“It’s not your fau-“ you started.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “I’m so sorry – god I’m such an ignorant asshole.”

“No!” you said, taking his hand in both of yours. “You are my best friend, and you have caused me endless hours of happiness. I would have taken any sadness if it meant I could be your best friend forever.”

His eyes were watering and your heart felt like someone had gripped and twisted it in their bare hands.

“I was dating people and you had to sit and watch,” he said in disbelief.

“It meant to see you happy,” you said. “Hating you or those girls wouldn’t have changed your feelings for me. Because we don’t choose what we feel and for whom we feel things.”

“I love you,” he let out. “I’m so in love with you and I’ll make it up to you for the rest of my life, I swear.”

His words hit you like a torrent and you didn’t even care about the years of hurt anymore.

“There’s nothing you need to make up to me. I just need you to be here with me. Let me love you the way I’ve secretly loved you all this time,” you said. You touched foreheads until your breaths mixed.

“I’m yours – all yours,” he said. “I’m sorry. It took so long for me to realize and you were here all along, waiting for me. I never wanted to hurt you. How can I apologize properly?”

“Just kiss me again, please,” you said, almost begged. “Kiss me and it’ll all go away.”

And so he did. You had never known how much emotion could be in a kiss. But then again, you had never felt this strongly for anyone else but him. You deepened the kiss, bending almost all the way over to his side of the car. His hands were touching your cheeks so gently, but they were coaxing you closer and closer. When his tongue stroked over your bottom lip, you sighed against his mouth.

“I want you,” you admitted. You thought about driving home, but you needed to be honest to yourself. Driving in this state of mind was probably not safe.

“Backseat?” he asked, lips barely leaving yours alone. Hastily, you nodded. He climbed back there first, then you followed. It was only ten seconds that you couldn’t hold him for, but you yearned for him more than ever when you finally sat down in his lap, facing him. Without hesitation, your hungry mouths attacked each other again. You swore, you could have sat there all night long, kissing and touching him, if there hadn’t been something you wanted even more.

Swiftly, you slid his shirt over his head. Of course, you had seen him shirtless before, but never like this. Never with his chest practically heaving against yours, never with your hands being able, being allowed to touch him. Your fingertips were shaky against his smooth skin and you must had looked at him as if he was carved directly from marble. So he put his fingers under your chin and you looked into his eyes. If his body was marble, his eyes were diamonds. Ever so gently, he kissed you again. For a while you sipped on each other’s lips, only pulling away for a moment so you could remove your own shirt. You had opted to not wear a bra that day, out of comfort but also laziness. All along you used to think that saying someone’s eyes darkened in lust was an exaggeration, but when you looked into his, you understood. It was true. The way he eyed you was beyond all your most daring dreams you had ever dreamt about him.

Your lips meddled messily as his hands ran down your body starting from your neck, to your breasts, squeezing them and playing with your nipples. He was careful not to tickle you, knowing from hundreds of childhood play fights where your weak spots were. Your back arched against his chest, wanting more than his careful touches. On impulse, your hips ground against his crotch. As if on cue, you both let out strained noises. By now, your breaths were heavy when you pulled away shortly. Dreamy eyed, he touched the pendant of the necklace between your collar bones.

“I gave you that…,” he started.

“For my sixteenth birthday,” you finished his sentence. You caught a flash of regret in his gaze, but you weren’t going to let him feel that way. Not now. Like you had wanted to so many times, you bent to his neck and began peppering kisses on his skin.

“Can I give you a hickey?” you whispered, almost afraid you were still in a dream.

“Just one?” he asked, and even without looking at him you could hear the grin in his voice. After sharing him with so many girls for so long, it almost felt selfish. But you reminded yourself that he wanted you now, after all. He groaned when your teeth grazed his skin and you sucked purple marks onto his neck and shoulder. His restless hands touched all over your boobs and hips, down to your ass where they slid into the back pockets of your pants for a moment. Again, you pressed your crotch against his hips, yearning for any kind of friction. At the same time, your hand wandered along his chest to the hem of his pants. Without looking, you opened his belt and the zipper of his bottoms.

He hissed when you grabbed his clothed dick through his underwear and his fingers dug into your sides. A few times you pumped his already hard shaft through the material. Then he moaned your name and you had never heard anything more perfect. The mere sound of his breathy, husky voice turned you on so much more than you had ever imagined.

“Fuck me, please,” you spoke, kissing him deeply. He hummed a needy yes against your lips and nodded. You climbed off him so you could lie down on the seats. He wriggled out of his pants and then helped you out of your own. When he lay down between your thighs and you felt his weight on top of you, it seemed like he had always belonged right there. It had been a hauntingly long journey, but now that you knew the end of it, you accepted all the sleepless nights you had experienced.

“Hold on,” you said, finding your bag on the floor to reach for the condom inside. He hummed a thank you as he ripped the pack and rolled the rubber over his stiff member. His fingertips teased the inside of your thighs, while he pressed open mouthed kisses onto your neck. A drawn out moan of agreement left your lips and momentarily, your eyes shut in the bliss of anticipation.

“You look so beautiful in the moonlight,” he said. His fingers run through your folds, collecting the wetness. You couldn’t help but whimper at the contact, and maybe also slightly because his words made your heart swell in the most marvelous way possible. Through flattering eyelids, you watched his stupidly handsome features as he curled his fingertips against your clit. All of you wanted more, but you only managed to moan his name in pleasure.

“You ready?” he asked, and you weren’t sure if you brain had even processed the amount of rapture he was causing you – but of course you were. You had been for years.

“Yes,” you said. Just for a moment, he run the tip of his cock through your wet folds. When he finally entered you, you realized you had been holding your breath – now it came out in a relieved sigh. He groaned at the mere sensation of filling you up, and when you opened your eyes to look at him it almost made you dizzy in admiration. Gradually, he thrusted into you, hips fitting against yours like two puzzle pieces finally united.

As he picked up the pace, you moaned in surprise but more in agreement. You felt his hand on yours and linked your fingers. Other men had made you feel good before – but only now you realized how true those statements from women were, when they said that nothing was like sleeping with the one you were in love with. The mixture of pleasure and the way you mooned over his whole being was a lot to take in. But it would never be too much. He was perfect for you. When you threw your head back you spotted the full moon and the brightest stars in the sky, trying to outshine each other.

He hit a spot inside of you that made you arch your back off the seats. Tightly, you shut your eyes and squeezed his hand.

“Oh my- You feel so good,” you moaned. When you felt the tip of his nose brush against yours, you opened your eyes. They met his galaxy eyes, and his mouth was parted slightly. You could barely breathe at the way he looked at you. When would anyone else ever see you in this way? It didn’t matter, you only wanted him either way.

He reached for the back of your thigh, lifting your leg slightly. The different angle felt even better, making you whimper and grab the hair at the nape of his neck, desperate for somewhere to hold on to. He groaned when you pulled his hair a little, and you smirked. You could barely wait to find out all the other things he liked and wanted to do to you in the future. But for now, you weren’t in a rush. It had been a long time since you had felt so at peace and full of happiness. Time was nonexistent right then. All you knew were his soft lips on your jaw and the way his perfect cock was making you see a blur of stars in front of your eyelids.

“I’m gonna- come,” you whimpered.

“Hmm…me too,” he groaned. “Let go for me, baby.”

His hand came in contact with your clit, feverishly rubbing the sensitive nub. The nickname he had called you would have made your cheeks heat up, had they not already been that way from the intensity of your emotions. Your stomach tightened and you only wanted to pull him closer to you.

He reached his high shortly before you did. A few curses fell off his lips as you felt him twitch inside of you, hips moving in sharp thrusts. Even if you had wanted to look at him, it was impossible for you to keep your eyes open, as his fingers still worked their magic on you. His last thrusts were hard and short, but they sent you over the edge too. Just as he pulled out, you met your climax. It was like falling but knowing there was a pair of gentle arms right there to catch you, so you didn’t have to be scared. You moaned his name, and this time he was actually here to hear it. Your chest pressed against his, foreheads touching, your legs tightened around his waist from sensitivity. After slowing down, he removed his fingers from your center completely.

Together, you lay in silence trying to catch your breaths and clear your heads. You scooted over a little, so he could balance his body on his side next to you. Light as a feather, his fingers brushed over your lips, before he bent down and kissed you again. This time it was a long kiss, with less need but even more passion. For what felt like the hundredth time, you questioned reality. Almost as if to check if it really was him, you stroked over his cheek and gazed up at him. But he was right there. Your best friend. Now more than your best friend. Through the opened crack of the car window you made out the crashing waves that caressed the cliffs underneath you two. Mingled with your song playing from the car’s speakers, the mysterious noise seemed to pick you up and tell you “Look at what you’ve been through, only one last time, then put it behind you. You’re where you’re supposed to be, now.”

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Text

Soulmates

JJK X Reader soulmate AU

Warnings: Minor character death(car crash, only mentioned nothing graphic), Drinking

I don’t know if this is what you (the requester) were going for? this is somehow where I ended up

Everyone in this world has a soulmate. Someone that is meant to complete them and make them feel whole.

Your other half can be identified by the matching birthmark hidden somewhere on their body. There are also a lot of people whose marks are so close to matching that it almost feels like the real thing… almost. Sadly, many don’t ever get to experience the love of their true soulmate, so they settle for the closest they can get.

Jungkook was convinced he was one of the lucky few. Looking at her made his heart feel like it was going to burst. Every time he saw her the world got brighter, the birds started singing a little louder, and his stress nearly melted away entirely … nearly. But at 17 no one is going to pay attention to nearly.

Their birthmark’s matched so closely, each sporting a small puzzle piece on opposite wrists. You wouldn’t even bat an eyelid at the loved-up pair as they walked together hand in hand. And he loved her so completely, and her him, that they never thought to question it. Madly in love until the day she died.

Jungkook spent weeks almost comatose when the news of her car crash reached him. Couldn’t move, eat, sleep. To lose your soulmate so young was said to be a fate worse than never finding them at all. Even after coming through the other side people could tell he wasn’t the same carefree young boy he had been, most likely never would be again. His eyes’ looked far older than his years now, his soft features much more angular.

Three months after her death he resolve to never fall in love again, happy in the knowledge that he got to know her even for such a short amount of time.

….

You met Jungkook at a party. Someone from Uni decided that 24 was the right age for a big birthday bash. They hired out an entire club and set up a series of activities for people to enjoy. A mechanical ball on the main floor, a ball pit to the side, a BBQ in the smoking area, and a bouncy castle in the downstairs 90’s themed area. It really was an amazing event. You however spent most of your time watching the quiet Korean boy in the corner, every time his eyes met yours you felt compelled to move to him, talk to him, dance with him, anything that would get his attention on you. At the time you put it down to the alcohol. It took you exactly 3 and a half drinks to pick up the courage and interrupt his current conversation.

He was very sweet, really sweet considering he clearly didn’t want to be talking to you. It was evident in the way his eyes shifted and the nervous playing with his sleeves, still you persevered. Something about him wouldn’t let you give up, not yet at least. Your saving grace came when your favourite band came blaring over the speakers. “PRETTYMUCH” aren’t an underrated band per say but it’s difficult to find someone who knows them in your circle, so when Jungkook’s face lit up at the same time as yours you knew you had your in. So with the Phases remix blaring through the club you took your opportunity.

“I love this song!” You took his hand and pulled him on to the dance floor before you really realised that’s what you are doing. To start with he was frozen, a little shocked by your boldness, but as you gave it your all he joined in, loosening up for the first time that entire night. After that it was a lot easier to talk to him, you actually went into the smoking area to talk more about shared music interests.

After you went to get a drink you got caught up with some others and he came to find you. It felt like an electric shock when he’d grabbed your hand to get your attention, but there were a lot of balloons around so that would explain the residual electricity. By the time the party was over, and the club was closing, you didn’t want to leave him, not just now but ever. You found yourselves wandering around aimlessly, talking about nothing until the sun came up. Looking back it was then you decided Jungkook was it for you. You had never really believed in the soulmate tradition until you met him.

Weeks go by of you texting back and forth. You found out the reason he was so into music was because he was a musician himself, he even promised to perform for you sometime. A lot of promises were made in those messages.

‘There’s this amazing Restaurant in the city’ you claimed promising to take him with you next time.

‘I really want to see this movie’ he said promising to pay for tickets when it came out.

‘We should go see this band together’ The number one promise between the two of you, quickly racking up a lot of different acts to see together.

So when one of those bands turned up on the roster for the local you’d bought tickets immediately sending him the confirmation. Your stomach had fluttered thinking about seeing him in person again. And so you counted down the days as they passed. Picked and repicked your outfit. Talked yourself in and out of going. Eventually the day arrived. The doorbell signalling his arrival was deafening, ringing out through your small studio apartment. You took a few deep breaths before opening the door.

He was flawless, your tipsy memory hadn’t done him justice. A broad chest draped in a white long sleeve tee, ripped skinnies straining against his thighs, his hair swept into a James Dean quiff. You might’ve laughed at the way your outfits had accidently matched (a black crop with white skinnies) had you been capable of making a noise.

“Ready to go?” He asked nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. You’d nodded, blushing when you realised you had been staring.

It was a short bus ride into the town centre. Spent in relatively comfortable silence arms brushing against one another in the limited space on the crowded vehicle. The club was packed wall to wall when you got inside, no hope of getting to the front of the crowd, or so you’d thought. Jungkook grabbed your hand winked at you and began heading in the opposite direction of the stage. He led you up some back stairs and on to a balcony you hadn’t ever noticed before.

“I’ve played here before, almost no one knows this is here, but it will give us the perfect view.” He dropped your hand in favour of leaning over the railing. You couldn’t help but feel cold at the loss. The performance was great, you found yourselves screaming lyrics back and forth at one another. Some people had cottoned on to your little hiding spot and soon it became as packed as the rest of the club. Whether he was trying to protect you from the others or he was pushed there you will never know, but Jungkook ended up caging you to the railing, head resting on your shoulder.

After the show you’d decided it was time to ask him how he felt. The club was still busy, but the two of you had been in a quiet corner on your own nursing drinks and chatting aimlessly.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” You asked, broaching the topic carefully. You watched closely for his reaction, but he gave nothing away. Instead he just shrugged.

“I did once.” It was too blunt, you knew you should’ve stopped but you couldn’t, now you’d decided to tell him it was like verbal diarrhoea.

“I didn’t think I did, I mean I’ve never seen any ‘matching birthmarks’ and every couple I know is perfectly happy… but then I met you and I keep thinking about it, and you, and how I feel about you.” You watched as his face goes from pensive to a deer caught in the headlights.

“I… I have to leave now.” He got up and ran into the crowd before you even had a chance to reach for him. He dipped through a back entrance of the club and into the night before you could even push through the first layer of people.

The ride home had seemed a lot longer. Holding back tears had proved extremely difficult. Of all the reactions he could’ve given you that might’ve been the worst one. Somehow you found yourself thinking even him laughing in your face might’ve been better. You left the lights in your studio switched off that night. Made a beeline for your bed and passed out face down.

It would’ve felt like a bad dream when you woke up… if it hadn’t been for the crusty mascara tracking down your cheeks. You’d picked up your phone from where it lay abandoned next to you. Battery on 12%. You’d decided then it’d be best to run damage control, at least save the friendship.

Y/N: I’m sorry about last night…

You hadn’t expected his reply to be quick, so it’d surprised you when the typing bubbles appeared immediately; and furthered your sadness when they disappeared moments later without a message.

For days you spiralled. Going over the moment again and again in your head. Each replay turning the memory into something worse than the original.

Eventually you plucked yourself out of bed, deciding to face the problem head on and talk to the friend that invited you both to their birthday in the first place.

She met you at a café downtown during her lunch break. It was obvious by your red rimed eyes and sniffling nose that you had been crying but she was nice enough to ignore it for the most part. You caught up on her life for a little while until you physically couldn’t hold back anymore.

You told her exactly what had happened between you and JK, watching as her expression got both more understanding and pitying as you got closer to the end. Whatever you thought she was going to tell you was no where close to the story you got. You sat mouth wide open as she told you about the accident, and the way it affected Jungkook. It made you want to cry all over again. You didn’t know what to say once she had finished, stewing in your own thoughts for a while. The main thought that kept coming to the front of your mind was one that made you feel so evil. But you had to get it out

“What if she wasn’t really his soulmate. What if he was never meant for her” Its barely above a whisper but your friend heard it.

“He truly believes that she was” She replied squinting at you. Her break ended shortly after that leaving you alone with your thoughts.

…

It’s almost a month later when you see Jungkook again. Hadn’t heard a single thing from him since the concert but at least you knew why.

This time it was someone pool party. You honestly hadn’t been expecting to see him there. Didn’t even know you had mutual friends past that one girl. You didn’t think twice about your birthmark when you stripped down to your two piece. Why would you? Everyone has one. You were lay out on a sun-lounger with a drink when you spotted him. Tucked away in a corner once again, the only difference this time was his attention was already on you. He looked as good as ever, hair damp and slicked back, Long-sleeved neoprene shit covering his torso but trunks showing off his amazing thighs. You’d forced yourself to look away form him but could still feel the intensity of his gaze on you.

Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore, too hot under the sun and his stare you decided to change out of your swimsuit into a sundress for the evening. Heading inside you found your way into someone’s bedroom to get changed. Perhaps you should’ve checked to see if the door the locked though, because just as you had wiggled out of the bikini top Jungkook burst into the room.

“Ah shit… Sorry… I um.” His hand had flown in front of his eyes as he’d slammed the door shut behind him and you’d immediately reached for the flimsy dress pulling it over you torso so he could reopen his eyes.

“What in the actual fuck Jungkook?” you whisper screamed not wanting to draw attention to the two of you hidden away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think… I just needed to see…”

“See what?! My boobs? I think you managed that one perv. You haven’t spoken to me in weeks and now all of a sudden you can’t wait long enough to knock.” You came across a lot meaner than you had meant, you just hadn’t been prepared for him to want to speak to you again.

“No I’m sorry I’ll go, this was a bad idea, I was probably seeing things anyway.” He mumbled looking sheepishly at the floor/

“No wait it’s okay, I really want to apologise don’t leave.” You took a deep breath and waited for his eyes to meet yours properly. When they did you could see the shock behind them.

“Why do you need to apologise? I’m the one that ran off, I never even told you why and I fucked up and I’m sorry I just…” You reached for him then, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and then realised it wasn’t your place, arm dropping heavily back to your side. “I felt so guilty with you, not because of you, because of me.” You nodded in understanding.

“I found about your soulmate after I confessed to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t know. I never would’ve brought it up if I had known you had already found yours.” You’d broken eye contact with him then unable to watch the sadness in his eyes and not be able to do anything about it.

“That’s why I felt so guilty though because the way I feel about you is so similar to the way I felt about her, how I still feel about her deep down. I was so confused because you’re only supposed to get one soulmate, and if I could feel the same way about you in such a short time… it just feels like I’m betraying her by loving you.” He stepped forward reaching for your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. “The today when I saw your birthmark on your thigh I could’ve cried.” He uses his free hand to unzip the shirt he’d been wearing. He pulled his left arm from the sleeve exposing his birthmark to you. A puzzle piece to fit perfectly into your own.

You’d gasped at the revelation you were right. He was meant to be yours. And yet it didn’t feel right. The anguish on his face was clear, the internal fight he had obviously been having with himself ever since the concert.

“Letting yourself love me now doesn’t mean you loved her any less” you whispered, allowing yourself to move even closer to him, wrapping him in your arms. He’d nuzzled into your neck allowing tears to stream down his cheeks and onto your shoulder. You’d felt every bit of stress leave his body as he cried. Emotions he hadn’t even know he had been holding onto, finally letting himself really breath since he had lost her all those years ago.

You’d lost track of the time, just stood with him, holding him until the final few sniffles came. His cheeks had been puffy by and red when he pulled away, wiping his face on the sleeve still on his right arm.

“Do you want to leave? We can go back to mine” You’d asked carefully, not willing to let him go home alone after feeling like that. He’d nodded weakly, sliding his arm back into the shirt before taking your hand in his. You’d headed for the door only to be brought back by the hand he had on yours. He’d pulled you so close you could see the flecks of gold in his irises, watched your reaction before leaning in and kissing you. It was salty with left over tears, but you wouldn’t change you first kiss for the world. Everything felt like it clicked into place in that moment, the world tilted on its axis. The exchange was short lived, a chaste peck followed by a few smaller pecks before he let you lead him all the way home.

Masterlist

#JJK #Jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook soulmate #jeon jungkook #jungkook soulmate au

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uglypastels · 3 years

Text

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

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @spiderrrling @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog @musicalkeys @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker

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