#'lightly grey shaded but only to the “bad” people'

[starry-bi-sky]

12AM late night danyal al ghul propaganda to consider (that is funny to me): this little brat being meaAN. nice twin danyal al ghul: great, fun, we love opposite twins. wonder where he's learning that kindness from, but it's a good dichotomy! but also mean danny fenton. this little shit can make an adult CRY. he is on par with Damian for most venomous barbs. he is a smarmy little motherfucker. he's nice to his people and HIS people only. everyone else can screw off for all he cares - he's gotta learn to care about other people. his canon sarcasm and wit goes from level 2 to level 10. he is a sarcastic, smarmy, witty little asshole and i could go on but the idea of danny fenton being a mean little menace to people is very very fun and amusing to me

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #because then it means *I* get to explore how he obtains specific traits from canon while also staying true to that 'mean' characterization #exploration of personality traits and how they can be conveyed in different ways #how does this little jerk (affectionate) become similar enough to his canon self to the point where he's still recognizable but not a copy #also morally grey danny fenton whose actually like. on the darker side of morally grey and isnt just #'lightly grey shaded but only to the “bad” people' #because again see above ^^ exploration of personality traits and how he obtains specific canon traits and how they manifest differently #danny fenton with the orange-blue morality #and he never really STOPS being mean to people either he just mellows out. but he will swing at a hornet's nest with a metal bat #him and damian being remarkably similar but still individual to themselves #asshole with a heart of gold danny is what im saying #this isnt a super serious take im just having fun #if someone comes at him. like if you bare your teeth at him he's going for the throat immediately #'they go low i go lowER' also consider: mean danyal al ghul being a menace to vlad masters #late night starry posts that they think are funny #creating multifaceted characters comes with realizing that you need to treat your characters like people and realize that they will react #differently to situations depending on what it is and who they’re with/who its about #the ‘jokester kinda annoying’ character is never going to be joking and annoying all the time. what happens if someone they love gets hurt? #or they’re put in a situation where they realize they need to be serious? what makes them cry? what makes them angry? #what is a character like beyond the little trope label they’ve been shoved behind? #thats just an example but its one that helped me quickly understand characterization better

[aflyingcontradiction]

13 books

Tagged by @nikita-not-nikola to answer 13 questions, and then tag 13 people. Thank you very much!

1) The last book I read:

Jasper Fforde's The Constant Rabbit - it's a very lampshadey sort of satire, quite witty, but by far not the best Jasper Fforde book I've read (that honour would go to the unfortunately named Shades of Grey)

2) A book I recommend:

Three Parts Dead by Max Gladstone - I've not seen a lot of chatter about the Craft Sequence around these parts, even though clever fantasy settings with unique worldbuilding and an ensemble cast of diverse characters (many of them queer) seem to be tumblr's jam. So I'll take this opportunity to go "That one! That's a good one!"

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

In a literal "read it cover to cover sense", I genuinely don't remember the last time that happened. Did that all the time as a kid, but I read in smaller chunks these days. In a "this was extremely captivating" sense, though, Harrow the Ninth was pretty riveting!

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more):

Recently, a lot of them! I've been decluttering my bookshelf so almost everything that's on there is getting a re-read. One of the many that truly deserved it, though, is China Miéville's Railsea.

5) A book on my TBR:

I've got my TBR down to only about 15-ish books, of which "Infect your Friends and Loved Ones" has been on there longest, but it seems a bit hard to find so it'll probably stay on there for a while.

6) A book I’ve put down:

I don't tend to put down books lightly. I usually struggle through them, then end up giving them a bad review :P The last DNF I remember was Sacred Pain: Hurting the Body for the Sake of the Soul. But that wasn't the book's fault, I was expecting a historical overview of pain used deliberately in spirituality and it was more about the philosophy/psychology of pain (and extremely densely written at that)

7) A book on my wish list:

Shubeik Lubeik by Deena Mohamed

8) A favorite book from childhood:

Alright, let's try to NOT go for the obvious here... The Neverending Story by Michael Ende (if you've seen the movie you really, really ought to read the book. The movie ends before all the most interesting plotlines in the book even START).

9) A book you would give to a friend:

I mean, depends on the friend, doesn't it? So, semi-random pick from my recent re-reads: Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory by Caitlin Doughty

10) A book of poetry or lyrics that you own

Oooh, I got this really neat book of German poetry for Christmas - Deutsche Gedichte - 1500 Gedichte von den Anfängen bis zur Gegenwart (does what it says on the tin, really).

11) A nonfiction book you own:

How To Invent Everything by Ryan North

12) What are you currently reading:

A Feast for Crows by George R.R. Martin

13) What are you planning on reading next?

I let a random number generator decide which book on my tbr pile I read next so no idea.

Alright, let's get to the tagging (no pressure, of course!): @lovethatcoat, @toasthaste, @autogeneity, @ante--meridiem, @soryualeksi, @bakomglaset, @deliciousghosts-unofficial, @shabbytigers, @octopuscato, @titaniumelemental and whoever else feels like doing this

#ask meme

[adoringhaikyuu]

you’re horny on your period 

characters: aone + atsumu + kageyama + kenma + (gn!reader) 

request: hey babes, can i request hq boys (of ur choice, but with tsumu on it pls) with a fem s/o whos on her period and very horny? lol, if ur uncomfortable with it i'll totally understand • by anonymous

warnings: horny tings, suggestive tings, period sex mentions but nothing actually happens <3

notes: everyone is 18+ in this !! the reader has their period obviously but there are no pronouns used so technically it’s gn :) i actually rly like this one!

aone 

you tried to get over it, but it was no use

it’d been an hour and you were still needy, an unsatisfied ache in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, not just because of your cramps

you were debating telling aone because you didn’t to bother him and period sex could be messy and some might even say gross

but of course, like the observant boyfriend he is, he noticed something was bothering you

aone walked into your bedroom, immediately sensing your discomfort. he stopped in front of the bed where you were sitting. his voice was gentle, despite his serious exterior but you could tell he was worried. “cramps?” 

you paused, deciding to speak before you changed your mind. “yeah, but that’s not really what’s bothering me...” 

he raised his brows, silently asking you to explain so he could help you.

“i...” you rubbed your thighs together, shuffling on the bed nervously as you focused your eyes on the sheets rather than his curious eyes. “i’m just feeling kind of needy?”

he stayed standing, “oh...would you like me to help?”

“yes–no?” you looked up to see him tilting his head at you, confused. “i just know some people find it gross and it can be messy, you know? don’t wanna be a bother.” 

“your issue is the mess?” 

you nodded and he hummed before leaving without another word. you sunk down a bit. you were fully prepared for it to go either way, but the rejection still kinda hurt a bit. you were about to go to the shower to take care of yourself when aone came back into the room, a towel and wipes in his hand. 

you looked up at him shocked, “what––”

he put the towel down and set the wipes aside, “for the mess.”

you immediately got up and pulled him in for a kiss, making his eyes widen slightly before he gave in, holding you by the waist. you mumbled against his lips, “i love you so much.” when you pulled away, you noticed the light blush and subtle smile on his face.

he licked his lips. “i love you too.” 

atsumu

normally when you were on your period, you wouldn’t let tsumu touch you tbh

period sex was a hassle

and normally you could control yourself or just take care of yourself on your own time in the shower or while he was out

but today for some reason, you needed him 

well you knew the reason actually––

as soon as atsumu came home, drenched in sweat from the gym, his grey tank top practically glued to his torso. you could see his neck shining and even his hair was wet, which you saw once he took off his cap. 

he set things down and immediately ran over to you on the couch to give you a quick kiss. “hey babe,” he grinned and stood up straight, stretching his arms behind his head, which wasn’t helping you at all. “damn that workout was intense, i’m beat. i’m gonna head to the shower, okay? then we can cuddle.” 

you opened your mouth but didn’t say anything, nodding instead. he smiled and headed towards the bathroom but he only made it about three steps before you stopped him with a call of his name, the sight of his back only furthering the feelings you had.

he turned back, “yeah?” 

you paused, “i um...” you sighed, “i need you.”

you could see a smile forming it’s way onto his face slowly, not wanting to get his hopes up too soon. he always wanted to help you out on your period but you’d never let him. 

“like need me need me?” 

you nodded “but we’ll only do it in the shower!” 

the smile finally burst on in his face. he made his way over to you again and planted a big kiss on your lips, groaning happily when you moaned lightly. 

“on second thought another workout doesn’t sound too bad.” he winked and smiled cheekily before throwing you over his shoulder and running to the bathroom, ignoring your yelp. 

“what got you so worked up anyway?” he asked casually, stepping into the bathroom. 

he set you down and you looked up at him sheepishly, “you...”

he grinned smugly, his hands reaching for your shirt. “oh i am so blowing your back out–”

kageyama

you tried to ignore what you were feeling, not wanting to ruin the moment since you and kageyama loved to do this every week

have a movie night and just relax

and you now he’d been working really hard lately so he deserved some rest

but you had a problem

you kept fidgeting in your seat next to him, trying to either relieve yourself slightly or make it go away, you weren’t too sure

and to be honest you weren’t really paying attention to it and kageyama could tell

after twenty minutes or so into the movie, he asked you what was wrong but you waved him off, assuring him it was nothing

but you couldn’t help but focus on him, the sharp cut of his jawline, the curve of his lips

then he put his hand on your thigh and you got to thinking of the feeling of his hands on you

and that sent you down a tunnel of unholy thoughts

kageyama felt your fingertips tracing the veins in his hands and tried to ignore it at first, keeping his eyes trained on the tv. but when you let your fingers trail up along his arm as well, his hand subconsciously squeezed your thigh and his eyes widened when you let out a quiet moan.

you both paused and kageyama turned his head slowly, eyes wide and looked at you, his lips parted. “are you–” he swallowed, trying to calm himself down. “okay?” 

you looked over at him, trying to act innocent. “mhm. just tickled, that’s all.” 

he nodded and turned back to the screen, and you tried to as well, but you kept glancing back at him, debating with yourself about whether or not you should say something. you didn’t want to be selfish and disrupt the movie, but you also couldn’t ignore what you were feeling, it was too intense. 

it lasted about five minutes before he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “you know i can see you watching me, right?” 

you felt your cheeks heat up and you huffed. “i’m sorry i just...” he turned to face you fully, curious and a bit concerned. his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, completely innocently and that’s when you decided you couldn’t hide it anymore. 

“i’m horny tobio.” 

his eyes brightened and he stuttered for a bit, “o–oh. well––do you want me to help?” he started to move closer but you looked to the side and he stopped. 

“it’s just––i’m on my period.” when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you looked back to find him staring at you blankly.

he tilted his head and looked from side to side. “and?” 

you opened your mouth and closed it. “well...i’m, you know...bleeding...doesn’t that bother you? it’ll take more like effort and i know you’re tired––”

he cut you off, placing a hand under your chin, a shy smile on his face. “i don’t care about that. plus wouldn’t it help with your cramps?” 

you nodded, “well, only if you make me cum.” 

his brows furrowed, offended. “i always make you!” 

“yeah you do.” you laughed, taking his hand in yours, making him smile at you. “but are you sure you want to do this now? it might get messy.”

he leaned in and kissed your cheek before pulling back to look at you earnestly, his eyes a shade darker. “i don’t care.” he kissed you on the lips, “all i care about,” his hand tilted your head and pulled you closer, whispering against your lips. “is making you feel better.” 

kenma

kenma could tell something was off about you

he knew you were on your period but there was something else that he couldn’t figure out

he was waiting for you to tell him but you never did

the thing is, you’d just moved in together a few months ago and while you’ve had a couple periods in the same house 

(which he’s totally normal about) 

you haven’t done anything while you were on your period

normally you’d take care of yourself, but you felt a little self conscious about doing it in your shared house for some reason 

and kenma like never left the house

sure, he had his headphones on a lot but still––

so you were a little tense and though you thought he was distracted, he definitely noticed

kenma stepped into your room and you smiled up at him before going back to your phone, thinking he was switching from the ps4 to the pc set up in your bedroom. but he didn’t, he came and stood next to your side of the bed, making you look up at him in surprise. 

“oh hey ken,” you sat up, your legs pressed tightly together. “what’s up?”

he looked at you for a moment before speaking up. “nothing...what’s wrong with you?”

your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

he sighed. “i can tell something’s wrong...” he looked down, a bit shy. “i was waiting for you to come to me about it but you never did. was it something i did?”

your eyes widened, he’d noticed? “no––no you didn’t do anything wrong babe.”

“oh.” he nodded, crouching down beside you, resting his chin on the mattress. “then what is it? i can tell it’s not nothing.” 

you swallowed and set your phone down before looking down at him. “i just...” you sighed, “i’m kind of worked up...and i was too nervous to do something about it.” 

his eyes widened this time. “oh––”

you looked away. “yeah.” 

“well you don’t have to be nervous about that.” he stood up, a small smile on his face. “that’s perfectly fine.” 

you looked up at him, “oh, really?”

he nodded, “of course.”

you smiled, “oh thank you. so how long are you staying out for?”

his brows furrowed, “what? why would i leave the house––”

“wait you wanna stay?––” you paused, “well can you at least put your headphones on and close the bedroom door on your way out?” 

he blinked at you. “how can i help you if i’m not in the room?” 

you blinked back. “you want to help me?” 

he blushed and nodded sheepishly, “yeah...why wouldn’t i?” 

you stuttered a bit, “well i just––you know i’m bleeding, that could get messy...” 

he paused and glanced around the room seemingly in thought, and you figured that he was rethinking the whole situation until he spoke up again. “well i want you to be comfortable and the shower isn’t the best place for that...so how about i just get a towel to put here instead?” 

you stared at him for a few seconds, “each day i fall more and more in love with you.” 

he blushed even deeper and tried to hide his smile as he turned around, “shut up––i’m going to get the towel.” 

#aone #aone x reader #aone smut #aone fluff #aone headcanon #atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #atsumu headcanon #atsumu fluff #kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama smut #kageyama headcanon #kageyama fluff #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma smut #kenma fluff #kenma headcanon

[duskholland]

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

summary ↠ tom can’t stop thinking about harrison’s girl, and it’s starting to become a problem. — in love with your best friend’s girl au. warnings ↠ this is fifty shades of morally-ambiguous grey, but I wouldn’t say it’s /too/ out there..?¿ there’s no actual infidelity but because of the au, there are themes of cheating, so avoid this if it’s a touchy subject for you. cw: a lot of alcohol, a ton of jealousy/possessiveness, heavy swearing, ongoing frat/party/bet culture, tom being a bad friend, harrison being a bad boyfriend, y/n being a bad girlfriend, and nsfw content. this contains smut! 18+ minors dni. word count↠ 17.6k. a/n ↠ please don’t do this irl, this is just fantasy !!!! y/n, tom and harrison are all flawed people, so please don’t go into this expecting them to all be perfect !!!! this was almost twenty thousand times more debased and fucked up, but I reeled it in last minute :’) that being said, this was still so much fun to write lmao. I listened to your girlfriend by blossoms + jessie’s girl pretty much on repeat as I wrote this! title is from 1d’s classic banger, which apparently influenced this more than I’d thought. thanks to all the anons who sent in ideas for this the other week!! a lot of them made it into this fic, so if you sent in a concept—thank you so much <3 I messed around with the pov so it flips halfway through! it should be obvious but I’m flagging it so you don’t think I went mad. hasn’t happened yet my lovelies but frat!tom does test me ! :’)) enjoy !!! <3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended warnings ↠ masturbating (male), oral + fingering (fem receiving), protected mxf sex. possessiveness in the dirty talk. again, there is no infidelity but there is a lot of bad behaviour + boundary pushing <3

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

Tom has seen a lot of pretty girls in his life, but tonight, he thinks that he’s seen an angel.

The frat is loud. The crowd is so thick he can barely breeze, and the fog machine has left a deep grey smog smothering the living room. Flashing strobe lights and the deep drums of bass cut through the air, but despite the way Tom’s head hurts, everything irritating fades as he looks across the room and sees a girl. You. You’re standing in the open doorway, leaning against one of the beams, a solo cup in one hand with the other resting on your waist.

He instantly knows that he wants you.

You’re in a red dress, with the flattering material clinging to your waist and shoulders. It draws Tom’s attention, but that’s quick to shift to your face as he watches you laugh at a joke made by one of your friends. He recognises a few of the people that you’re with from one of his lectures, but he’s almost certain he’s never seen you before. He’d definitely remember.

“Bro? What’s up?” Harrison is behind him, Tom’s best mate. They’ve been friends since high school, and when Tom had decided to up sticks and move across the ocean to a college in America, Harrison had followed. He’s good like that. “You’re just staring at the wall. Look like a proper tosser.”

Tom scowls as he drags his eyes away from you, directing all of his most scathing anger at Harrison. The blond is smirking. Perched on top of his head is a black SnapBack, printed with the frat’s logo. It matches the one that Tom’s wearing, just Tom has it pulled on backwards. He’s the only member of the frat that wears it like that, and it’s become an unofficial declaration of his status.

For the last year, Tom has held the revered position of president of the frat. It’s a lot harder than he’d thought it’d be, but it comes with perks. Several perks.

“I’m looking,” Tom replies, crossing his arms.

“At what?”

Discreetly, Tom brings his cup to his lips and uses his index finger to sneakily point across the room. He leads Harrison to you.

“That girl,” he says slowly. “Do you know who she is? Who invited her?”

Tom prides himself on knowing most people on campus—or, at least, anyone he needs to know. Anyone involved in Greek life or the party scene at his college has a face burned to his memory, and he prides himself on recognising matching names too. A lot of power comes with being able to immediately recognise someone. It makes him likeable, and he feels good knowing that someone feels appreciated by him.

“Dunno,” Haz mutters. He squints his eyes as he looks at you too. “She’s with Tyra. Maybe they’re friends?”

Tom scoffs. “Well, I’d guess that, yeah.”

“Are you going to do anything, or continue to stare like a creep?”

After taking a final swig of his drink, Tom pushes the empty plastic cup into Harrison’s hands. His mate thumps him on the back.

“I’ll be back,” he mutters. Then Tom pauses and throws out an easy smile. “Or not. Depends.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

As Tom walks across the crowded room, he tries to hold himself a little straighter. He’s dressed simply tonight, in an all-black combination of t-shirt and jeans, but the gold chain he has around his neck adds a little depth. Around his wrist is his watch, and it glints as Tom reaches up to briefly whip off his hat and tousle his hair. His eyes are fixed firmly on you, and he finds himself grinning when you see him.

You’re even more radiant up close. Your eyes are a beautiful shade, and they fill with curiosity as you look Tom up and down. An expression of intrigue passes over your features as you mutter something to a friend and push away from the doorframe, being pulled to Tom as if by an unseen gravitational force.

“Hi, darling,” Tom leads with, keeping his voice cool. When you step closer, he meets you, easily and lightly pressing his hands to your waist as he kisses your cheek. “I’m Tom.”

You give him a wry smile. “I know who you are,” you reply. Your eyes are fluttering all over his face, and your hips feel soft beneath his hands. “Y/N.”

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he responds easily. He crosses his arms, angling them in a way that makes his muscles bulge. “I’ve not seen you around here before.”

There’s a shyness to your gaze that makes Tom smile wider, and he watches as you fiddle with your hair and tentatively meet his gaze.

“Do you know everyone that comes to your parties, Tom?”

“Yeah.” Tom slips his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “Or, at least, I try to. I know I’d definitely remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” You’re speaking louder now, emboldened by how fully Tom’s giving you his attention. All around you, there are people looking, people whispering. Everywhere Tom goes, he garners attention.

Tom offers you an easy smile, tilting his head to the side as he nods. Sometimes he likes to play it cool and keep his cards close to his chest, but he doesn’t think you’d like that. He doesn’t think the chase is necessary. You’re looking at him with round, inquisitive eyes, and your gaze keeps circling back to his mouth.

“You’re stunning, love,” he says. “Do you want to dance with me?”

You reach out and take his hand, and Tom feels a jolt of warmth trail up his spine. It confuses him. He’s pursued a lot of girls in his life, and he’s felt attraction plenty of times before, but he’s never had his heart ache quite like that from just one touch. As you run your thumb over the back of his hand, you look up at him from beneath your lashes.

“A dance? With the president of the frat?” you tease. As Tom chuckles, you smile cheekily. “I dunno. What can you give me in return, if I give you what you want?”

“Oh, a businesswoman,” he teases. “I see how it is.”

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

Tom arches his brows. “I’m a business major.”

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

For a few minutes, you slip into conversation about your course. Tom learns that you share the same 9am every Monday morning—a class that he only managed to make it to the first week of term. You don’t linger on the topic of academics for too long, though. It doesn’t take much before Tom’s got you in the back corner of the room where it’s quieter, listening to you reel off your first impressions of the frat. You keep your hands on his shoulders, slowly but purposefully rolling your fingers over his shirt, keeping him on his feet as he catches a whiff of your peach perfume every time you move closer.

He almost gets his dance, but then there’s a tap on his shoulder, and it’s one of his brothers, whispering about an incident on the patio involving a table and the pool. Tom grimaces and reluctantly casts his eyes back to you.

“I need to go and sort this out,” he mutters, frustrated. You shrug, biting your lip as you rock back on your heels. “Will I see you later?”

“I don’t know. Will you?”

Tom smiles. “I will,�� he promises. Wanting to give a lasting impression, he easily swoops his hand up to cup your cheek. When he receives a nod of approval, he leans in and deposits a lingering kiss to your forehead, inhaling a deep breath of your shampoo and feeling the tip of his nose tingle in response. You cling to his arms a little tighter, and when Tom goes to pull away, he isn’t able to until you’ve kissed his cheek.

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

“Thanks, darling.” Tom gives you a final look, his insides debating whether or not he really needs to go deal with the issue. When there’s a loud shout from out on the patio, he sighs. “Take care.”

Even when he’s out on the terrace, you stay on Tom’s mind. As he oversees two of the guys pulling the table out of the pool, he replays his interaction, mind swirling over your face, your figure, your voice. He finds himself scratching at his chin, not entirely present. After a while, he ends up back in the house, huddled with a group of the guys, and it isn’t until someone pushes Harrison forward that Tom truly comes back into the room.

“How long has it been, man?” Jacob, one of the guys, and one of Tom’s American friends, is grinning at Harrison. The man is standing in the middle of the group, bashful cheeks a light pink.

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

“Bullshit,” Tom adds, chuckling when Harrison flips him off. “Haz hasn’t got laid in months.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison mutters. “Not all of us are as...promiscuous as you, Tom.”

Tom shrugs. “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

Harrison pauses, stroking his chin. “Dunno,” he finally decides.

Tom rolls his eyes. “We’ll wingman you,” he decides. He looks around at a few of the other guys and doesn’t stop until they’re all nodding and making similar sounds of agreement. “Anyone you like the look of tonight?”

Haz hesitates but eventually shakes his head. “Nah. Haven’t seen who’s around.”

“Alright.” Tom presses his palms together, an idea forming. “Next girl that walks into the room, we’ll set you up with.”

Harrison hesitates. “But what if she’s taken?”

Jacob steps forward, smirking. “The next single girl who walks into this room,” he clarifies. He holds out a hand and raises a brow. “Bet?”

Harrison looks down at Jacob’s hand. A bet, like the one he’s referring to, may as well be as binding as a contract. There’s no going back. He looks to Tom, a little nervous, but the fear vanishes when Tom nods.

“Alright.” Harrison does the frat handshake, and the guys around them all holler. Tom makes his own loud sound of support, grinning widely. “We’ll do it.”

They have to wait for a while. The first few girls that walk in are all accompanied by partners. Tom’s starting to get tetchy and he knows Harrison is too, but as soon as that thought crosses his mind, the universe decides to throw a curveball right into his face.

You walk in.

“Oh, shit,” Jacob says. He elbows Harrison. “There you go.”

Harrison immediately looks at Tom. “Uh… Isn’t she…?”

Tom sucks in a hard breath, the sound sticking behind his teeth. “Yep.” He looks at Harrison, who’s looking particularly deflated.

For a moment, Tom thinks about Haz and everything that he’s done to support him. Harrison flew across oceans to stay with Tom, moved into the frat with him, operates as his right-hand man. He’s his golf buddy, his gym partner, his best mate. For Haz to go back on such a public bet would be the same as resigning himself to social humiliation, and Tom would be a terrible friend for making him do that. Tom can give him this.

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

“Nah.” Tom decides to step up. “It’s a bet. It’s fine.”

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

Tom feels like a petulant child. Now he’s agreed to it, he feels his stomach rebelling. You find yourself at the centre of his attention again as he looks back over, instantly regretting it as the action connects your eyes with his. His breathing catches as your lips pull into an eager smile.

But Tom pushes through it. He looks away and stares at the floor as he nods, strengthening his attitude as he reaches out to smack Harrison on the back.

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

He can barely watch as his guys approach you, and Tom decides to stay back in the corner of the room. It’s clear that you’re confused at first, but through quick discreet glances, Tom watches as you start to talk with Harrison. When Tom gets approached by another girl, you start to speak with Haz more freely, and he assumes that you’ve forgotten all about your conversation from earlier. When Jacob and the others split off, leaving you and Harrison alone in the back corner, Tom has to leave the room.

For a while, Tom drinks. He does a couple of shots out on the patio and chats with a few girls, and eventually, he’s pulled back inside the house. He ends up in the large living room, where the main party is happening, and it seems that you and Harrison have taken it to the next level in his absence.

Tom’s lips curve into a scowl as he looks across the room and sees you, wrapped up in Harrison. The blond’s hands roam all over you, moving from your cheeks, shifting back into your hair before curving down your figure. Tom can barely keep watching as Harrison’s palms curl around your waist and go down to squeeze your ass, and he swears he can almost hear the breathless moan you deposit into the air in response.

He looks away when Harrison starts to nibble at your neck and you toss your head back in pleasure, but Tom can’t stop himself from stealing quick glances every few seconds. In the pit of his stomach lies a terrible beast, acidic and possessive, clawing at his heart. There’s a tenseness to his jaw that he can’t quite shake, even when Tom tosses the remnants of the shit beer down his throat. There are easily a hundred people in the room with him, but he doesn’t care about a single one of them. The only one he cares about is you.

After a few moments of his eyes dissecting the contours of your face, Tom feels someone wrap their arms around his waist. He stiffens, turning his head and looking around until he finds himself staring at the face of a girl from his accounting course. She’s pretty, wearing silver eyeshadow, and Tom thinks that her name is Sasha.

“Hey, Tommy,” she greets. Her perfume smells overpowering and it makes Tom grimace. “Wanna dance with me?”

Tom looks back across the room, his stomach turning as he sees Harrison has pulled you down onto a sofa with him. As you straddle his lips and continue to kiss him, his blood runs hot.

“Fuck yeah, darling,” he mutters. Tom reaches out and wraps an arm around the girl, pulling her closer and letting his eyes fall shut as her lips find their way to his neck. “Let’s dance.”

He doesn’t need you. He barely fucking knows you. Tom has met a thousand girls, and it feels as though he’s kissed as many. The only things he knows about you are inconsequential—who cares if you smell like peaches and wear a glossy lip balm? Who gives a fuck that your voice sounds like a pretty wind-chime. Not Tom, that’s for sure. Tom’s got another girl kissing him and tugging on his hair. He doesn’t need you.

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The pillow that Tom has wedged over his head makes his ears ache and does nothing to obscure the sounds drifting into his room, so after a few moments of failed silence, he throws it aside. A loud huff passes by his lips.

It’s been a month since the party, and every Sunday morning since, without fail, he’s been woken by the sounds of your moans. Harrison’s room is right next door, and though he’d always complained to Tom that the walls are thin, Tom had never been the one on the receiving end like this. It’s always been Tom having lazy post-party sex with a random girl, or Tom taking a girl into the shower room and locking out his brothers all morning. Now it’s Harrison, making noise with you, and suddenly it’s not just the fact that he’s not had sex in four weeks that’s getting on his nerves.

Your moans are loud as they catch in the back of your throat, and they make Tom hard. He grumbles as he reaches down, hands dipping beneath the covers as he pushes a palm beneath his boxers. A softened groan passes past his lips as he pulls out his cock, pausing only to bring his hand back to his lips and spit on it before he starts to jerk off.

Tom had gotten over the guilt of getting off to you without your knowledge two weeks ago. For all he knows, you know that he can hear you, and you’re being so loud for him. He’s learnt that you’re cheeky like that, and the thought makes Tom tug his cock a little harder. Harrison’s bed is squeaky, and he can only imagine that you’re riding him. Tom bites back a moan as he imagines how pretty you must look on top.

He’s spent more time with you now, since that party, and it hasn’t helped his predicament at all. Every time he runs into you, you seem to grow hotter, and his attraction for you only burns brighter when he sees Haz grab your hand or kiss your lips. What had started as a bet for one night together has escalated, and now you’re both dating. Tom doesn’t think that he’s a bad person, nor would he ever say he’s a bad friend, but you’ve become his forbidden fruit.

Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t have you that makes Tom so incensed. He’s never been denied like this—been blocked so unscrupulously and irritatingly. Whilst you aren’t official with Harrison, Tom knows that his mate likes you. Hell, he can hear how much he likes you, right now, as Haz’s bed continues to squeak and your moans rise in volume.

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

It takes an embarrassing two-minute window before Tom’s biting back a yell of your name, cumming in sync with a set of particularly loud whines that you emit next-door. He falls back onto the mattress, his clean hand going up to card through his curls as he tries to catch his breath. For a few moments, he lays there, scowling up at the ceiling as he tries to bathe in the afterglow of release, but it goes crashing down again when he hears your light giggles followed by Harrison’s deep guffaws.

Tom practically storms out of bed, wiping at his hand with some tissues before he stamps into a pair of grey joggers and leaves his room, slamming the door loudly in his wake. He hopes the sound scares Harrison so much he falls off his fucking bed.

The bad mood continues, even after Tom’s leapt through the shower and scrubbed at his ears. He ends up in the frat’s kitchen, the wide space still partially littered with solo cups and discarded bags of crisps from the party the night before. There are a few junior members of the frat hobbling around with black bin bags, looking pale and peaky. When they see Tom, they try and pretend they’re not hungover, and their act of skittish admiration is enough to make him feel a little better.

He’s just starting to assemble a protein shake when the air in the kitchen changes. Tom finds his eyes drifting towards the door, just in time to watch you walk in. The sun seems to follow you as you stroll into the kitchen, one hand at your side as the other plays with the tips of your hair, a relaxed smile on your face. As you look around the room and take stock of the several fratboys sitting on random pieces of furniture, your smile draws shyer, and Tom watches you glance down at your feet as you hurry towards the counters to where he is. You catch his eye, a blinding smile unfurling across your lips as you raise a hand in greeting.

As you sweep close, Tom blinks himself out of his stupor. He swallows down the lump in his throat as he steps forward to kiss your cheek, his hands falling onto your shoulders. When you step away, he takes in your outfit. Your legs are mostly bare, but you’re in a pair of shorts with an oversized grey t-shirt slouched on top of you. Tom’s eager eyes dip down, caressing your chest until they find the pointed tips of your nipples, straining against the fabric.

He clears his throat as he feels his cock prick to life.

“Morning, darling,” he manages, immediately turning around and facing the counter. He uses the smoothie as a pretence, but really he doesn’t want you to see the building bulge between his legs.

You seem to be oblivious, and Tom sucks in a breath as you step close. You place your chin on his shoulder and peer over it, comfortably leaning into him, and he swears he can feel your tits brushing up against his bare spine.

“Morning, Tom,” you greet, voice raspy and pure. “How’s your hangover?”

Tom chuckles, focusing very intently on ignoring the way your minty breath fans out across his cheek. You’ve got your arms wrapped loosely around him, hugging him easily and comfortably. He’d never complain that you’re at ease around him, but it doesn’t help his boner.

“Fine,” he responds, playing it cool. “I’m a pro at this, darling. Can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

You snort, and despite the loud volume, Tom thinks it’s a beautiful sound.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you murmur, voice vibrating straight into his ear. “I feel like I’m going to die. Head’s killing me.”

Tom coos. He spends a moment violently mixing some green protein powder into the rest of his smoothie, then reaches up and rummages through a cupboard. When he procures a packet of painkillers, you release a deep sound of relief and finally step back.

“There you go, love,” he mutters. He makes sure to brush your hand with his as he passes it to you, smirking slightly when you jump. A lot of the time, Tom thinks his attraction to you is one-sided, but then something like this happens and casts doubt on that assessment. Neither of you has mentioned the night that you met, and sometimes he wonders if he should bring it up.

Tired and slightly delirious, Tom decides to test the waters. Just for fun, because he can, and because he likes the thought of making you flustered. He knows that his reputation precedes him and that you probably buy into the idea that he’s a flirt as much as everyone else does. If you respond badly, he’ll just blame it on his naturally charming disposition, and if Haz takes issue with it, well… Tom will just bring up the many red marks on his ledger.

“Thanks, Tom,” you say. He watches you rummage through a cupboard and pull out a glass, and his eyes follow your legs as you lean over the sink to get water and the hem of the shirt rides up.

“You know you’re fucking stunning, yeah?” Tom says before he can second-guess his plan.

You freeze, the waterline in your glass threatening to spill as you try to process his words. When you look back, there’s an expression of curious bewilderment on your face.

“What?”

Tom, his boner finally soft again, turns around to face you properly. He brings his arms over his chest, smirking wider as he watches you look at the curves of his biceps. He’s shirtless, and he knows the hours he’s spent in the yard doing weights with Haz shows in the firm definition of his abs and pecs. You seem to enjoy looking at him.

“You look hot.” Tom watches your face very carefully, not wanting to cross too many lines. “I bet Harrison told you that though, this morning.”

Something shifts on your face, and you bite your lip. “Well…”

“Well?”

“Harrison doesn’t say much in the mornings. Or, well, ever.” You pause, a deep line carving between your troubled brows. “He isn’t very vocal.”

Tom hums, stepping a little closer. “Harrison is good at a lot of things, but he has certain shortcomings.”

You lick your lower lip, and Tom’s gaze lingers on the glistening trail of your saliva.

“Like what?”

Tom makes a non-committal noise and pauses to take a sip of his smoothie.

“Well, you know. He’s very intense. He doesn’t always see what’s right in front of him.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be friends?”

“We are. He’s my best mate. But that doesn’t mean I can’t criticise him for acting carelessly.” Tom drops his voice, letting you see the way he checks you out. “I just think that he doesn’t appreciate how lucky he is sometimes.”

You turn away, breaking eye contact as you take your pills. As you hum a soft tune, you pick up the kettle and fill it up, only looking back to Tom when it’s been plugged in and starting to boil.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” you reply, voice curious. You step closer until you’re standing in front of Tom, your eyes again going to his bare chest. “What does Harrison have that you don’t think he appreciates enough?” The suggestive look in your eyes matches the seductive inflexion in your voice, and Tom feels a shiver pass down his spine.

He plays it off coolly, shrugging slightly. “I’m just saying, darling, that if I had the honour of waking up beside someone as beautiful as you, I wouldn’t let you out of my sights all morning.” Tom reaches out slowly, gently letting his fingers bridge the gap between you as he toys with the hem of your shirt. You move closer, subtly encouraging him to continue, so Tom lets his hands shift up to hold your waist, feeling your curious eyes on him the whole time. “What was he thinking, eh? Letting such a lovely lady leave his bed. Crazy.”

You chuckle, a bashful smile on your face as you gnaw your lower lip. “Well, he wanted tea.”

Tom hums. “And I think that that’s bullshit.” He pauses suddenly, eyebrows raising as he finally looks away from your face and finds his gaze sticking on an emblem branded to your big t-shirt. A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. Of fucking course. “You know what this is, love?” he asks, tugging at your shirt. When you shake your head, he grins. “Boyfriend material.”

Your reaction is immediate: soft frown, arched brows, confused stare.

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

Tom clicks his tongue. “Never said he was.” He rolls his hands up your sides, gently caressing your warm figure. Though he wants to run his palms higher to your chest, he stops himself. “This is my shirt, babe. Laundry gets them mixed up all the time, but it’s mine.”

Your lips part and you look between Tom and your shirt with horror in your eyes. “Oh, fuck,” you murmur. Immediately, your hands fly down to the hem. “Do you want me to take it off?”

He shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “As much as I’m sure I’d like that, there are too many other people in here.” He feels jealous again just thinking about it.

You nod, pausing the movement after a second as your eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you even know? It’s just a plain t-shirt?”

“What, you think I’m making this up?” Tom’s smirking again, and it widens as you fluster. “‘S alright, love.” He reaches up and points at the emblem which marks an event from rush week last year. “Logo,” he states. “And… I think you’ll find if we take a look at the label on the back, it’s got my name on it.”

You let him manhandle you, melting back into his hold as Tom stands forward and turns you around. He brushes your hair out of the way and reaches up, gracing his fingers over your spine as he delicately pulls out the back label. You won’t be able to see it, but it fills him with smugness to see his initials stained stark against the label: TSH.

“Well… I’m sorry, anyway.” Your voice is hoarse, light and feathery as if you’re holding your breath. Tom lets his hand rest on your shoulder after he’s tucked the label back. He’d move away, but you’re leaning into him completely, your hands grasping at the palm that he has curled around your stomach. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Tom leans down, and in a bold move, very gently kisses the base of your neck. Your skin is soft and warm beneath his lips, and the breathless gasp you release is just as sweet.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles. He pauses, eyes fluttering shut as he inhales your peachy scent. “Feel free to use it any time you’d like.”

Not wanting to push too hard, Tom leaves a final, wetter kiss to the bottom of your neck before moving back, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and repositioning his hands back on the counter. He leans against the wooden cabinets, wondering if you’d been able to feel his hard-on that’d peskily bounced back when he’d heard your whimper.

If you feel anything, you don’t say anything. In fact, you’re quiet as you step to the side and pour out the boiled water into two mugs. “Thanks,” you say, speaking through the steam. You glance back to Tom, and he swears your eyes are darker. “It’s soft.”

Tom sips his smoothie, eyeing you over the brim as you poke at a tea bag with a metal teaspoon.

“Fabric softener,” he says, nodding slightly. His brain is running slow, still caught up on how nice it’d felt to kiss your neck. “It suits you.”

You throw him another shy smile. “How does Haz take his tea again? No sugar, yeah?”

Tom bites his lip. “Wrong,” he lies. “Haz likes three sugars. Don’t be afraid to put in a little more, though.”

You eye him sceptically. “I don’t think that’s right.”

“He is my best friend, love,” Tom says. He hides his mischievous grin behind his smoothie, and he watches you roll your eyes. “Listen, if he’s got a problem with it, he can take it up with me or he can come and make his own cup of sodding tea. Lazy bastard.”

You snort, and Tom feels his stomach turn as he watches you spoon three teaspoons into Haz’s mug.

“Well, I’ll let you know what he says,” you mutter. Finally, you pick up the mugs in your hands and walk forward, pausing in front of Tom. Your eyes skim his figure again, briefly zeroing in on his chest before caressing the fine lines of his lips. “Thanks for keeping me company. This was fun.”

Tom nods and steps forward to kiss your cheek. He hopes you can feel how desperately he wants to press his lips to yours.

“Any time, darling,” he assures. “If you ever need anything, you know where I am, yeah?” He lets his teeth brush your earlobe as he pulls back slowly, smiling to himself when he sees you shiver.

“Yeah,” you murmur. You swallow deeply, and your eyes hold his gaze for one moment longer before you tear them away. “Have a nice morning, Tom.”

Tom watches you walk across the kitchen, almost stumbling when you get distracted trying to look over your shoulder back at him. He smirks, raising a few fingers in a lazy wave.

“See ya!” he calls back.

His blood doesn’t stop pumping until you’re all the way out of sight, and even after that, he knows the only way he’ll be able to properly shake you is by attending to his hard-on. Again.

You’re like a shadow that won’t stop chasing him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party is in full swing, and Tom feels like a king.

There are several benefits to parading the title of president of the frat. Tom gets the largest room in the house, along with an ensuite. He’s able to prioritise himself on the gym schedule and the cleaning rota. Every party, he’s looked up to, treated like royalty, his every wish and command carried out by his brothers. If he doesn’t like a song, it’s changed. All it takes is one arched brow in the direction of a partygoer, and they’re ejected from the house. The beer is his favourite make, and everyone loves him.

Tom has the whole world in his hands, which is why it’s incredibly infuriating that his kingdom tonight isn’t ordered how he’d like it.

It’s two months into the semester, and the buzz that’d characterised earlier parties has faded. Finals are coming up soon, so maybe that’s why Tom feels unsettled. Or, maybe it’s the fact that the music isn’t hitting quite as well as usual. It could be that he hasn’t tied his shoes as tightly as he normally does, or maybe that the vibe within the house is just...off.

But Tom knows exactly what the problem is if he brings himself to think about it. He’s tried drowning his ugly feelings in cheap beer, but there’s no denying it: his mood had taken a significant plummet when he’d glanced across the room and seen Harrison with his hands all over you, your lips locked together. The shard of jealousy that had lodged itself in the warm precipice of his heart is unshakeable, and there’s a horrible bitter taste on his tongue.

Tom is so fucking jealous that he’s about two seconds away from pointing at the couple and getting someone to kick you out.

“Bro. Bro. The fuck is wrong with you, man?”

It’s probably a good thing that Tom’s been interrupted, as he’s fairly sure there’s enough poison in his gaze to burn off a large patch of Harrison’s hair. He shakes a grimace over his lips as he looks to the side, eyes falling to his friend, Jacob. Jacob’s in a loose Hawaiian shirt, the red and white pattern glowing under the luminescence of the UV lights.

“What?” Tom says, playing it cool. He takes another drink, shuddering slightly as he lets the alcohol ease him.

“You look like you want to beat someone up.” Jacob squints, trying to look in the direction that Tom knows he’d been staring in. “I only see Haz. Are you guys, like… Good?”

Tom releases a short bark. “‘Course, man,” he says, voice lifting lighter. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Jacob scoffs. It’s loud in the crowded living room, but Tom can feel the undertones. “Uh, we all know about the bet. We all also know that you’d had your eyes on Y/N before Haz pulled her.” He pauses, wiggling his brows until Tom punches his arm and scowls. “I’m just sayin’... Seems like you have some unresolved shit going on.”

Tom doesn’t deem him with a response, not knowing where to start with that. It’s Saturday night. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He already drives himself mad every other day of the week as he ponders this particular puzzle.

“We need to get the energy up,” Tom mutters. He spins around, beckoning over a few of his friends with his hands. Someone gives him a shot, and he downs it before looking back at Jacob. “We’ll do a game or something. Get people. We’ll do it on the patio.”

Ten minutes later, there’s an assembly of partygoers on the terrace at the back of the house. It’s a mix of sorority girls, jocks, and fratbros, but Tom doesn’t pay them much attention as he claims his spot on a rickety canvas camping chair and sits back. He lets Jacob take the lead, doing another two shots when he sees you and Haz join the circle.

You’re in a black dress tonight, the material skimming just above your knees. As you walk out onto the patio, the midnight breeze swishes the hem up a little, and Tom watches as you giggle and drop Haz’s hand to smooth it down. Harrison presses an easy kiss to your cheek, and the smile on your face builds. It freezes when you spot Tom, your eyes darkening as your teeth dig into the pink flesh of your lower lip. Tom raises a brow, watching you stand a little straighter as your gaze runs over his form, lingering on the golden chain he’d pulled on earlier.

The spell breaks when Harrison sits on a chair and tugs you down with him, an expression of irritation briefly souring your angelic face before you smooth it back. Tom doesn’t look away until Jacob starts to speak.

“Spin the bottle,” Jacob announces, looking around at each person. There are a few groans, but they’re drowned out by the cheers. Tom just rolls his eyes, sitting back and briefly surveying the circle. He’s pretty sure he’s pulled at least five of the girls already, and the rest of them seem fine, too. Obviously, there’s only one person he’d want the spin to land on, but he’s already accepted that the universe isn’t on his side when it comes to you.

A few rounds pass. Tom isn’t really paying attention until the neck of the bottle lands on him and he has to kiss a girl from his psychology class. It’s a quick kiss, and her lip gloss makes his mouth tingle, but Tom only realises how hammered he is when he has to sit up from his chair and lean over to spin the bottle.

Tom looks around the circle as his fingers ponder the glass, grasping the attention of the group like he’s holding court. He looks at you and finds you looking at him, your lower lip held between your teeth as Harrison rubs your arm. Haz has you in his lap, your legs thrown across his thighs as you sit on him sideways. Harrison’s blond curls rest up against the side of your face, and Tom has to look away as he grimaces.

The bottle spins. It clatters quickly over the paving stone, hurtling with an angry force that Tom hadn’t entirely intended to use. He holds his breath, his eyes widening as it stops. Pointing at you.

“Looks like that’s Y/N,” Jacob announces.

Tom sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at Harrison. His mate’s eyes have lost their charm, a deep frown settled on his face. Tom thinks he looks exactly like the tough-faced models from Vogue with that mardy scowl on his face. He raises a brow, as if to say, up to you, and watches as you turn in Harrison’s lap and whisper something into his ear.

A moment passes, and Tom’s surprised when Haz nods and pushes you up from his lap. He meets Tom’s eyes, giving him another smaller nod, and Tom sits back, pleasantly resigned to the fact that Harrison isn’t going to ruin the game.

“Hi,” you greet as you approach him, smiling.

Tom reaches out, offering you his hands as you finish treading over the collection of limbs and shoes that crowd the patio. Your fingers are so soft in his.

“Hi, darling,” he responds. Tom feels hot, everywhere, and he hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. “You look stunning,” he adds, voice quieter.

“Thanks.”

You hesitate, eyeing him up and down as if trying to assess the best way to kiss him. The girl he’d just kissed had bent over to press her lips to his, and as Tom remembers this, he drops one of your hands and reaches up and wipes his mouth again, trying to eradicate all traces of her lips. When he’s achieved this, he tentatively reaches up and presses the palm to your waist. Respectfully, of course. There are a lot of people watching.

You seem to be less reluctant to indulge, and Tom feels his eyes widen as you step forward and sink into his lap, your knees bending as you press your shins into the canvas of the camping chair on either side of Tom’s thighs. Suddenly your face is hanging in front of his, warm breath coming out over his face, and Tom has just enough time to wonder why your breath smells of pineapples before you’re leaning in.

He kisses you, and for a few seconds, he’s frozen. Everything that he’s learnt at the frat and over the course of his college life goes flying out the window, and he’s left feeling like a kid again. The background noise filters out, and all he can focus on is the weight of your body pressing into his legs and the feeling of your lips, soft and silky, moving over his. When you reach up to weave a hand into his hair, he comes back around, the roar of the party filling his ears as an adrenaline rush floods his chest.

Tom knows this will probably be his only chance to kiss you, so he leaves nothing behind. He brings both hands to your waist, urging you closer as he recovers his charm and kisses you properly. His tongue works into your open mouth, pressing against you and exploring the sweet space of your lips as you moan into him. He feels your fingers drift down, one of your hands staying bedded in his curls as the other plays with his chain. Never before has Tom felt so consumed by a kiss, and if the circumstances were different, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach around and grab handfuls of your skin, wouldn’t hold back his kisses, or his moans, or his coos of praising endearment. He’d give you everything.

When you pull back, your nose brushes up against his, and it feels like the two of you are the only ones in the world.

“How was that?” you ask, voice quiet. There’s a shyness to your disposition, a nervousness as you meet his eyes.

Tom reaches up, holding your cheek and brushing his thumb across your chin. He tidies up your smudged lipstick as he squeezes your waist.

“Perfect,” he replies, voice low. He can feel Harrison staring at him, but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re… You’re incredible, darling.”

You sit a little taller, looking proud of yourself. “Well, now I understand what all the hype is about,” you mutter. “You’re a good kisser. A really good kisser.” You pause as a shiver works its way down your spine, and Tom glances at your bare arms.

“Here,” he mutters. When you stand from his lap, he’s glad his jeans have some wiggle room so his raging boner is less obvious. Tom’s quick to shrug off his jacket, and he passes it up to you without a second thought. “Don’t freeze,” he says, wagging a finger at you.

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

You bite your lip. “Won’t you be cold?”

Tom just flexes his biceps, smirking again as he sees you checking out his muscles. “Got these bad boys to keep me warm,” he teases, pointing at his guns. He softens, just for a moment. “It’s fine. Said you could always use my stuff, didn’t I?”

You look flustered, opening and then immediately closing your mouth before turning around and making your way back over to Harrison. Tom sits back in his chair, trying halfheartedly to suppress the smirk that continues to hold his lips as he admires how nice his jacket looks draped loosely across your shoulders. You always wear his clothes so well.

Tom looks at Jacob, who shakes his head in response. Then he looks at Harrison, and he can’t stop himself from laughing. Harrison’s a shade of salmon pink, and it only softens out a little bit when you settle back into his lap and kiss his cheek. Tom watches Harrison flip him off then pull you closer and kiss you harshly, and messily. You don’t seem as into it as you’d been with Tom, he realises. You’re holding back, grimacing slightly as Harrison pulls back a triumphant moment later.

The game concludes a while later, but Tom stays out on the patio, feeling dizzier by the second. The camping chair is comfortable, and the chill in the air helps him feel soberer. Whilst Tom doesn’t regret the multiple cups of beer and several shots, he does consider that he might’ve gone a little too far in his efforts to forget about you.

You’re gone, now. Out of sight, back in the party. Tom’s making light conversation with a few of the guys still left in the circle, but they clear out when a shadowy presence falls across the patio. It doesn’t take long for Tom to realise it’s Harrison, and he tries his best to sit up straight and look less smug as Harrison drags a chair over and places it opposite Tom.

Harrison stares at him, hard. He’s in a matching snapback and a loose white t-shirt, his ring glinting as he crosses his fingers and examines Tom’s face.

“So…” Tom starts, disliking how charged the air is. “Y’alright, Haz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom,” Harrison says instead. When Tom pulls a face, he sharpens his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

Tom chuckles. He’s feeling drunk and annoying. “Well, that’s a bit of an unspecific question, Harrison. There are many things that you might say are wrong with me—”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Harrison breaks off, sighing loudly as he flops back in his chair and runs a hand through his hair. He looks smaller, nervous. “Do you have a thing for my girl?”

Instinctively, Tom shakes his head. “Y/N?” he says dumbly. When Harrison nods, Tom hums. “Is she your girl?”

Harrison flounders for a moment. “I mean… Technically no, but we’ve been hooking up for two months.” He pauses, grimacing. “Look, mate. I know I fucked it when we met her. I knew you wanted her, and I still took on the bet. But I really fucking like her now, and… And…”

“And?”

“If you decide that you want her, you’ll get her. You always do.” Harrison grumbles as he crosses his arms. “Can I not have one thing? Just one.”

“You do know that Y/N is perfectly capable of making her own decisions, yeah?” Tom says, only slurring slightly.

“Oh, yeah. Of course, of course.” Harrison’s bobbing his head almost comically. “But still… Do you know what I mean?”

Tom closes his eyes for a few moments, the patio spinning. He speaks through gritted teeth. “Haz, I love you, man. You know what I’m like. I’m a flirt.” He cracks open an eye and gives Harrison a dopey smile, and the next words he speaks are the truth. “I wouldn’t seriously try to steal your girl, alright? I wouldn’t sleep with her if you guys have a thing. We were just playing the game.”

Harrison releases a deep breath. “Thanks, man, I—”

“Wait.” Tom feels bolder. “You do need to tell her, though.”

“Tell her what?”

Tom narrows his eyes. “You know what,” he says, speaking to a very sheepish-looking Harrison. “She’d want to know that your relationship is built from a bet. If you… If you seriously think that you’re g’nna have a fucking relationship with her, she needs honesty.” Just the thought of you and Harrison going official makes him feel sick.

“No way.” Harrison’s curls go flying as he shakes his head. “Fuck that. Are you mad? She’d break it off.”

Tom grimaces and looks away from Harrison. “I’m just saying,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t lie to the people you care about.”

It’s rich coming from him, but Tom knows that nothing he’s said has been a lie. He won’t sleep with you if you’re still with Haz. Maybe he’d try to break you both up, but he wouldn’t purposefully sleep with someone in a relationship. Logistically, he doesn’t think he’d be able to, even if he wanted to, because despite the tantalising banter he’s able to carry out with you, you’re a good person. You’d never cheat on Harrison.

“Yeah.” Harrison looks guilty now. “I guess.” His eyes shift away from Tom, falling to someone else. Tom startles when he feels two hands come down to rest on his shoulders, and glances down, only relaxing when he recognises the silver rings curled around your fingers.

As if a deity, you’ve appeared, just when Tom was thinking about you. He wonders if it’ll always work like this.

“Hi,” you greet, looking first to Harrison, then Tom. “What are you guys talking about?”

You’re standing behind his chair, perfume light and peachy. When Tom cranes his head back, your perfect face blurs.

“Nothin’,” he murmurs, a sleepy grin on his lips.

You chuckle. “How drunk are you right now?” you ask.

Tom makes a non-committal sound. “I don’t want to stand up and find out,” he admits. “So I’m just going to stay here until I get sober.”

“What if it rains?”

“Well, I guess I’ll get wet.” He reaches back and grabs lightly at his jacket, still covering your upper half. “Some thief ran off with my jacket.”

You snort, then pat his shoulders before walking around to the front of his chair. You offer him your hands, and Tom takes them easily.

“Babe?” Harrison pipes up. “What are you doing?”

With ease, you help Tom up from the chair. He fakes it a little, exaggerating just how woozy he is so that you have to wrap your arms around his waist. He hides his mischievous smirk in the crook of your neck, suppressing his guilt. He wasn’t lying to Harrison—he will stay in his lane. But old habits die hard, and you’re very warm, and he’s very drunk, especially with the blood rushing to his head.

“Putting him to bed,” you respond. “He’s tired.”

Suddenly, Tom finds himself yawning. He leans into you, pouting softly at Harrison as he tries to look as exhausted as possible. He’s always been a convincing actor, and his friend buys it completely.

“Alright,” Harrison says. “Do you need help?”

You shake your head. “Nah,” you respond. “I’ll be fine.” You squeeze Tom’s waist. “He’s just a big teddy bear.”

Tom doesn’t think he likes that (if anything, he’s a lion), but it seems to ease Harrison. The man presses forward, kissing your cheek before giving Tom a firm pat on his shoulder.

“Right, then,” he says. “I’ll be inside.” Harrison glances at Tom, reluctance filling his blue eyes before fading slowly. “Sweet dreams, bro.”

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

“Don’t ever fucking call me that again.”

Tom’s still chuckling as you lead him back inside, and he knows that you’re trying not to giggle too.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom already knows that you’re cute, but as you help him up the staircase and get him ready for bed, your adorableness really comes through.

“Drink this,” you announce, walking back into his bedroom with a glass of water in your hands. Tom admires the way that you walk, glad he’s already in bed and hiding beneath the covers. Your hair is a little wild, and he knows that’s probably his fault—Tom’s cheeky, and he’s especially persistent when he’s hammered, and he might’ve been a bit mischievous in the bathroom when you’d tried to convince him to brush his teeth, refusing until you’d had to physically push the brush into his mouth. You’d rolled your eyes, and he’d been distracted by watching you in the mirror.

“What is it?” he asks annoyingly. Now Tom is almost naked, clad only in his boxers, and he does a deliberately long stretch of his arms above his head, smirking as the duvet falls down to expose his toned torso.

You roll your eyes again as you sit on the edge of his bed, pushing the glass into his hands. “Water,” you supply. You stare at him, raising a brow. “Probably won’t help with the hangover, but I feel like I need to try.”

Tom takes a few sips, looking at you over the rim of the glass. You look tired, up close. Still glowing, and beautiful, and gorgeous, but tired. Your lipstick is faded, and he can see the shadows of your dark circles peeking through your makeup.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You glance at him, chuckling shortly before looking down at your hands. You play around with a few of your rings, sighing.

“Just tired,” you respond. You manage a forced smile. “Doesn’t matter.”

He frowns. “It does.” Tom obediently downs the entire glass, wanting to coax a smile to your face. “Why’d you come out if you’re tired?”

“Haz wanted me to.” You bring your eyes back to Tom. “I wanted to come and support you, too.”

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

You scrunch up the end of your nose as you stand from his bed, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “Well, I do care about you, Tom. I know there’s a lot of pressure on you to make the parties good.”

Warmth bursts through Tom’s chest. “That’s so cute,” he mutters. He looks up at you, the light being cast from the ceiling light cascading over your shoulders like a halo. “You’re cute.”

“And you’re plastered,” you respond, smiling. You walk closer, running a hand over the top of the duvet until you reach Tom. When you’re standing up by his head, you tentatively reach down to push his shoulders. “Lie down,” you coax. “Bedtime.”

Tom sinks into his mattress with ease, smiling when you gently pick up his head and plump the pillows. You reach down and pull the duvet up to his chin, tucking it in around his chest firmly, your tongue held between your teeth as you go. You’re very attentive, and the sight of you looking after him so well doesn’t help his predicament at all.

“Thanks, darling,” Tom murmurs. He sighs contentedly. “So comfy,” he whines. “Why don’t you stay with me if you’re tired?” He cracks open an eye just in time to see the expression of shock on your face fade to one of amusement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you respond. “Can you imagine how confused you’d be waking up in the morning?”

“Would be a good kind of confusion, though.” Tom rounds out his eyes, trying to look as soft and unassuming as possible. “I’m a great bed partner, babe. I won’t kick you. I’ll give you space. Or, if you want, I’ll cuddle you. I’m great at cuddling people.”

You just laugh, your face vibrant and light. “You’re so funny,” you say. “I wonder if you’ll remember this tomorrow.”

Tom scowls, grumpily snuggling further into bed. “I invite a pretty girl into my bed and she rejects me,” he grumbles. “Your loss, baby.”

“You sound more and more like a fratboy every time we speak.” You stand back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him up and down. “Right. I left painkillers on the side, and there’s more water too. Sweet dreams, Tom.”

You turn to leave, but Tom makes a noise of objection. You pause, raising a brow in question.

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

You laugh again but step back towards him. You bend over, necklace dangling in Tom’s face as your hands smooth up to rest in his hair. He’s overwhelmed by the scent of your perfume and the close proximity, and for a moment, he thinks you’re going to imitate the breathtaking kiss from earlier. But then you move up. You kiss his forehead, gently, stroking a few strands of his hair as your lips linger against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. When you pull back, Tom has a dumb expression on his face, and he’s glad that you follow up the kiss by turning off his lamp.

“Night, Tom,” you say, walking across the room. There’s a single shard of light, peeking into his room through the open door, and it illuminates your silhouette as you pause there.

“Night, Y/N,” he responds, voice slightly thick.

You gently close the door behind you and leave Tom alone, with nothing but his thoughts and his fantasies to entertain him. He grumbles as he turns over, a very prominent and selfish thought pushing to the front of his mind:

Tom loves Harrison, but he’s fed up. He can’t carry on like this, yearning incessantly. He doesn’t want to stay in his lane, he wants you to be his girl. Desperately.

Tom has to do something. He has to make you his.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You think that whoever scheduled Intro to International Business for 9am on a Monday hates all college students.

It’s dreary as you make the hungover trek to campus. The ache in the front of your skull rattles with each sombre step, and you never get used to the chill of November’s dark mornings despite having plenty of experience with them now. You’re bundled up in a hoodie, a jacket, and a scarf, yet the flecks of grey raindrops still manage to soak you. By the time you reach the lecture theatre, you’re grouchy and regretting ever leaving your bed.

At the time, going to the frat party the night before had seemed like a great idea—Harrison hadn’t stopped blowing up your phone about it all weekend, and you’d felt compelled to keep him company. There were other factors that made you eager to go, too.

It’s all a blur now. Spin the bottle, disrupting Harrison’s tense conversation with Tom, taking the latter upstairs. You think about the sight of Tom bundled up in bed, duvet pulled to his pouting lips, and your entire body bursts into flame, rippling with an unrestrained desire that makes you feel guilty for just existing. You’d been so affected by the events of the night before that you’d had to go home, too overwhelmed to stay with Harrison in the room beside Tom’s.

Most of the seats around you are empty. You’re early despite rolling out of bed after sleeping through your first alarm. As you settle into the back of the theatre, you begrudgingly pull out a pad of paper and a pen, wishing you’d thought to bring sunglasses. This is the class that you supposedly share with Tom and Harrison—also business majors—yet they’ve never made an appearance beyond a half-assed attempt in the first week. Sometimes you wonder how they’re both able to pass a class they never show face in.

“Fuckin’ hell, love. Who the fuck scheduled this so early? They’re taking the piss.”

You startle as a grouchy voice enters your space, and your eyes snap up just in time to see a dark figure drop down into the open seat beside you. The deep navy blue hoodie is pulled above his head, and he immediately crosses his arms, but you know without a doubt who it is.

“Tom?” you ask, voice full of shock. You sit forward, reaching out to place a hand on his arm as you peer at him. When you meet his pale face and see the thick sunglasses covering his eyes, your eyebrows raise. “Since when do you come to class?”

Tom clicks his tongue, lips curving into a smirk. It’s a little disconcerting that you can’t see his eyes, but you can tell they’re dark and seductive. They always are.

“What d’you mean?” he teases. “I’m always here.”

“As if.”

He shrugs and breaks off for a moment to yawn. “Thought I should start being a good student, ‘n all,” he mutters. “Finals next month, and everything.”

“And how’s your hangover?”

Tom pulls a face. All of a sudden, he leans over, rummaging through his bag with loud actions until he procures a bottle of water and a bag of mixed nuts. When he sits back up, he pushes down his hood and jerks off his sunglasses, exposing the damage. You wince as you take in the deep bags beneath his eyes and the way his brown irises are marred with red. He still manages to smile, though, and after ripping open his snack, crunches a couple in quick succession.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “I don’t get hungover, but if I do, it clears pretty fast. I’m built differently.”

You snort. “Yeah right,” you mutter. You find yourself looking at his lips, and briefly, you’re transported to how incredible they felt last night when you’d straddled him and kissed him. Quick to shake that off, you find yourself blinking as you stare at him. “You were trashed last night. I had to take you to bed. Do you remember?”

Tom gives a hapless shrug, not quite looking into your eyes. You wonder, not for the first time, what thoughts are running through his mind. He confuses you immensely.

The night you’d met, you’d been convinced you’d end up sleeping with him. He’d swaggered over to you, dripping charm, looking incredibly hot in an all-black ensemble, chain, and cap, then he’d kissed your forehead and promised to see you later. Just, you hadn’t seen him later—instead, his friends had not-so-subtly set you up with Harrison as Tom had stood across the room, watching. A part of you had felt side-lined by him, but Harrison is attractive, so you’d jumped on him the moment you could.

Harrison is nice. He’s kind. Dependable. He’s the kind of boy that you could easily take home to your mother and hear nothing but kind words about. He isn’t always the most attentive, but he’s funny, and he cares for you, so it’s fine.

Tom is… Tom is an entirely different ballpark. There are no words to describe Tom Holland. You’d thought you knew enough about him before meeting him at the party, but the man you’ve come to know since doesn’t match up to the reputation that surrounds him. Tom is cheeky—it’s obvious in his flirtatious jokes, and his lingering touches, and his habit of kissing your cheek every single time he sees you. He’s funny too, but his sense of humour isn’t mean or callous like most of the lads in his house. Beneath the hardy exterior lies someone who genuinely cares, and looks out for the people he loves.

He makes you feel alive, each one of your cells burning and sizzling every time he’s around. Tom makes you feel the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat everywhere—in your ears, in your chest, between your legs. He gives you everything, whilst giving you nothing at all. It’s entirely perplexing.

You need to stop comparing them. It’s not a competition. You’re seeing Harrison, and Tom has no genuine interest in you. You’re friends, and he’s flirty, but that’s it. You’re friends, and you shared the best kiss of your life last night, but that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t matter that Tom fires you up the right way, because it’s one-sided, and you’re with Haz.

Tom ignores your question about the night before and instead tips his bag of nuts towards you.

“Care for a nut?”

You snort as you pick out a cashew, crunching it softly as he watches. Tom’s deep brown eyes linger on your lower lip as you slowly lick the salt from it.

“Delicious,” you say, earning a loud cackle from your companion.

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

“No, you just have your mind in the gutter. Not everything has to be an innuendo, Tom.”

“Wrong. Everything can be and is an innuendo if you try hard enough. You should know this by now, darling. You’ve spent enough time with me.”

“Maybe, but not all of us share your immature sense of humour, Tom.”

He gasps, eyebrows sliding up his forehead in mock shock. “Are you calling me a child?”

“Childish,” you clarify, smirking as he shoots daggers at you. “You’re such a boy.”

Tom sits back, blinking a few times in quick succession before clearing his throat. His eyes seem to darken as he leans in closer, bringing a hand up to rest on your shoulder. His fingers are warm as he pushes the hair from your face and gently tucks it behind your ear, leaning across the seat until he’s able to whisper gently.

“I am not a boy,” he coos, voice soft. “I’ve just never broken out the proper charm on you, darling.”

Your throat runs dry as his hot breath fans out across the side of your face, minty fresh.

“And what is this proper charm?”

Tom opens his mouth to speak, but it fades a moment later. He pulls back, appearing to lose his cool last minute as his cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he mutters instead. He shifts around in his seat, looking back at you for a split-second before glancing away. Tom’s reluctant to meet your eyes, and you watch, confused, as he chugs about half his bottle of water before pulling off his hoodie. He’s still flushed—face warmer and more alive than it’s been all morning.

Your brows furrow as you look at Tom’s shirt. “Hey, is that the one I borrowed the other week?” you ask, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom chuckles, regaining his charm as he throws his hoodie on top of his bag and turns to face you, a hand lodging in his hair. It’s longer than it’d been at the start of the semester, a few strands dangling over his forehead.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Smells of you.” Something crosses over Tom’s face, and he flashes you the tips of his pearly teeth as he smirks. “Smells of us, darling.”

Your reaction is immediate and uncontrollable. A hot flush, moving through your entire body, forming in your centre and rolling across your figure from the inside out. You hope that you can play it off by pulling your notebook into your lap. The back of your mouth is dry, but you manage a weak, quipping response of, “you should wash that,” before you spiral too far.

It’s in the small things. His comments. His lingering touches. His smirks. Tom drives you crazy.

The lecture starts, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you stay huddled up in the back with Tom, killing time as he shows you a collection of photos from the night before. After flicking through the snapshots from a very blurry night, Tom moves on to a different folder in his phone, nimble fingers swiping across the screen and showing off some of his favourite memes. You end up almost crying from laughter, clutching to his arm as you bend over in your seat and try to pass by undetected by the notoriously strict professor. Tom’s hand soothes over your back, and you briefly wonder if you should dissolve into laughter more often just so he can bring you back down.

When the class finishes, Tom throws his arm across your shoulders and walks you across campus. It’s only when you’re halfway towards the car park that you realise where he’s taking you.

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

Tom squeezes your side. “‘S alright. You’re my best mate’s girl. ‘Least I can do.” He pauses, apparently oblivious to the sour expression you pull in response to those words. “Plus, you looked after me last night, so… I kinda owe you.”

Deciding to just accept it, you hum in agreement. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He’s very warm and his cologne smells like a forest breeze. You enjoy strolling across campus with him, especially when he kisses your temple as you separate at his car. It’s a battered old thing, and you’ve been in it a few times before. You’re fairly sure that Haz owns it too, but the way Tom settles into the driver’s seat and keys the ignition makes him look like the proper owner. Tom commands any space he inhabits with poise and elegance.

“You’re out near Sarah, aren’t you?” Tom asks as he jerkily reverses from his parking space.

“Yeah.”

“Nice area,” he comments, which makes you laugh. Tom glances at you, raising a brow. “What?”

“Small talk?”

“Mmm. Well, is there anything else you’d like to talk about, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Fuck, you can’t handle the way that sounds dripping from his lips.

“Nope.” You stretch your hands out in front of you, yawning. “Too hungover to think.”

“Fair enough.” Tom drums his fingers over the wheel, and you find yourself watching the lines of his slender digits. He has very pretty hands. “Good party though, eh?”

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

Tom releases a noise of reluctant agreement. “It was alright. Not the most successful night for me.” He risks a brief glance at you, chuckling. “Isn’t really the best look to get escorted to bed.” You aren’t sure if you should feel guilty for that, but Tom’s quick to add, “not that I don’t appreciate it. I do. I just shouldn’t have been so eager.”

“Why were you?” you ask. “It seemed like you were trying really hard to get drunk. Did something happen?”

Tom cackles, the sound so loud and quivering so precisely that it makes you jump. “God, if you only knew…”

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

You’re intrigued now. “What?” you press, reaching across the console to pat his thigh. You’re over halfway back to yours now, and like a bloodhound, you want to know answers. “Was it a girl? I’ve not seen you with anyone since… Well, ever.” You furrow your brows. “Did someone reject you?”

Tom’s face clouds over immediately, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat as you watch his jaw set into a hard line.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snaps, his easy demeanour gone.

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

Tom cards a frustrated hand through his hair, his eyes glinting dark. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I was not rejected.” The way his voice quivers makes it sound like a lie.

You pull a face as you cross your arms over your chest, your hangover exacerbating your rapidly falling mood.

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

He sucks in a fast breath. “Yep,” he replies, speaking through tight lips.

Something has changed. It’s as if you’ve crossed an invisible boundary that you hadn’t seen, tripped a trick wire only visible to him. The air between you is thick, and Tom doesn’t say another word until he’s turned down your street and pulled into a space outside your house.

“Well… Thanks, I guess,” you mutter. You reach into the footwell and pull up your bag, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn back to face him. For a few moments you bounce between jumping out of the car or staying, but you hate leaving things tense like this. Not with him. “Are we… good?”

Tom turns off the engine. For a moment he stares at his hands on the steering wheel, but then he brings his gaze up to you. His eyes are sad and raw, and it makes your heart hurt.

“We’re fine, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Sorry. It’s the, uh… The hangover. Makin’ me act like a twat. I’m sorry.”

You release a sigh of relief. “It’s okay, Tom.” A light chuckle slips by your lips. “I was worried I pissed you off for a moment there.”

Tom’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You? Never, darling.” He drums his hands over his thighs, and you remember the circumstances.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get out of your hair,” you say. You hasten to undo your seatbelt and reach towards the car door, only to pause when Tom reaches out suddenly to touch your arm. “Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Tom’s close, leaning over the console. Your eyes drift over the freckles of his face, and you get distracted by how warm his brown orbs are, like glinting pools of honey. “I really am sorry,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

You tilt your head to the side. “It’s fine.” You glance down to where he’s softly caressing your arm, his eyes fixed firmly on your skin. His hand feels nice. Soothing. He soothes you. He always does. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

You don’t quite believe him, but you’re willing to accept that the hangover has knocked him.

“Well, thank you,” you say. You turn back to face him. “For the lift. And the nuts.”

Tom finally smiles again, and the sight makes your heart soar. “No worries, babe,” he says. He winks. “Any time.”

You lean over the console and kiss his cheek, your mouth hitting a spot of skin closer to his lips than the side of his face. If Tom notices how flustered it makes you, he doesn’t say a thing. You’re still shaking as you pull your bag over your back and hobble from the car, shouting back a tight, “bye!”

Tom raises his hand through the open window and winks again as he pulls away from the curb, leaving your body throbbing persistently and your heart more confused than it’s ever been.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks pass. You don’t see Harrison much, but Tom continues to come to class. Life goes on, nothing unchanged, and finals come and go with ease. Before you know it, it’s the final mixer of the semester.

Harrison’s going to miss it. He tells you as much when you turn up at the frat two hours before kickoff to find him stuffing shirts into a bag. He looks guilty as you walk into his room, question written all over your face.

“You remember Rory, yeah? From UPenn? He invited me to their party. Apparently, they’ve got Travis Scott. It’s gonna be lit, so… I’m going.”

“Overnight?” you ask, looking at his heavy bag. Harrison nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah. Sorry… I probably should’ve told you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah.” You glance down at your hands and swallow the irritation that festers in your chest. Harrison has never been great at communication. Throughout the duration of your arrangement—whether you’re just dating, or just hooking up—he’s kept his cards close to his chest. He confuses you.

When you’d first spent the night with him, Harrison had acted like he’d wanted something more with you. You’d been on a few dates, he’d brought your flowers, the works. But with time, it’s as if he’s tired of you. The spark has slipped away, and if he wasn’t on his way across state, you’d sit him down and have a discussion about the direction of your entanglement. But he is, and you have no time, so you display your irritation by crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry,” he adds. He finishes zipping up his bag and throws it over his shoulders before stepping towards you. With warm hands, he cups your cheeks and brings you in for a deep, passionate kiss. “You can always come if you want.”

You grimace as you shake your head. “I told Tom I’d help him here,” you say. “It’s fine. Just… Have fun, alright?”

A shadow of jealousy briefly flitters across Harrison’s face, but it’s quick to smooth away when he clears his throat. “‘Course,” he says. He takes your hand and leads you from his room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

“Oh. Just hanging up banners, and stuff. He wanted me to help him with the drinks too.”

“Nice.”

The air between you is stale, and you’re glad when Harrison pulls you down the corridor and pauses outside Tom’s room. There’s loud music coming from the room, so Harrison has to rap loudly several times, an act that makes you cringe.

“Come in!” yells Tom. Harrison does just that, pulling you in after him with a firm grip. “Oh, hey guys?”

You instantly wrench your hand from Harrison’s, not wanting him to feel your palm grow hot as your eyes fall onto Tom. You’ve caught him mid-workout, perched on the edge of his bed, shirtless and doing curls with a hand weight. There’s a healthy red flush to his face, and his bicep bulges as he flexes with the weight. All across his chest are lines of thick muscle, and you find yourself staring.

“Hey, dude,” Harrison says. “I’m just on my way out.” He turns to look at you, an easy smile on his face. “Y/N told me you guys have plans tonight, so… I guess, I’m just wondering. Can you keep an eye on her? Look after my girl, y’know?” He pauses to chew on his lip, guilt at leaving reflected in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay, ‘n all that.”

Tom stands from the bed, tossing the weight onto the mattress with ease before approaching you, smirking. “‘Course, Haz.” He wraps a very hot, slightly sweaty arm around you and pulls you into his side. “I’ll take care of her.” Tom glances at you, shrugging softly. “Take care of you,” he adds.

You don’t know what kind of dangers you might face tonight that warrant a personal guard, but you don’t think you mind it if your attendant is Tom. He’s hot and sweaty and he smells of man, but you burn for him.

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

Harrison looks between you both, then shrugs. “Great.” He steps forward and briefly touches his lips to you. Tom freezes, holding you tighter in his arms the moment Harrison kisses you, and that action makes you feel perplexed. “Have a good time, guys.”

“You too, Haz,” Tom responds. You echo similar sentiments.

When the door closes behind Harrison, Tom doesn’t move. He simply holds you tighter, then drops his mouth down and presses a light kiss to the base of your neck. Your choked whimper travels into the air, and you flush as he steps away.

“We will have fun tonight, won’t we, Y/N?” he teases. His eyes are dark as they briefly skitter across your figure. After a moment, Tom walks across the room and picks up a towel and a fresh set of clothes. Tom pauses in front of you, tilting his head as he looks at you. He has to know how frazzled he makes you feel. He’s got to.

“Yeah,” you reply, voice high. “A lot of fun.”

“Mmm. Hope so.” Tom steps forward and cups your cheek in his hot palm, kissing your forehead before stepping back. “I’m going to shower. Make yourself comfortable, yeah? What’s mine is yours.”

A full-body shiver travels down your spine, but luckily it isn’t until he’s turned on his heel and strode over to the door.

“Have fun,” you call out. Tom turns back to wink, then disappears in a flash.

As the door closes behind him, you wonder if you really lost your spark for Harrison, or if the feelings you had for him just paled in comparison to the ones you harbour for his best friend.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The party picks up quickly. You split off from Tom a few hours in, being pulled away by one of your friends and staying with them for a while. You start to miss him, though, so you excuse yourself from a game of beer pong out on the patio and walk back into the large frat house, cringing slightly as you hear the loud music. You haven’t been drinking much tonight. Something tells you that you’ll need your sober brain.

It takes you a while to find Tom, the house busy and wild. He’s not in the kitchen, nor the hallway. Your adventures take you to the large living room, where they have the music and the drinks set up. As you wander inside, your eyes take a moment to acclimate to the dim lighting. When they settle, you see him, and the breath leaves your lungs.

Tom is standing in the middle of the dancefloor, talking with a girl. She’s draped in his arms, the tips of her fingers running through his hair as she chats to him. Tom is looking at her intently, paying rapt attention to what she’s saying, but the smile on his face doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. When he spots you, his brows briefly raise, only for them to lower again as he smirks. He winks at you, then reaches for the girl, bringing her in closer and dropping his mouth so he can start to kiss her neck.

Jealousy consumes you. It burns through every other rational thought that you have. The sight of the girl wrapping herself around him as Tom kisses up her neck makes your fingers curl into fists at your sides, and you start to walk across the room before you can comprehend it. Tom sees you, continuing to make flirtatious eye contact with you as he deposits light, wet kisses to the girl’s shoulder. It feels targeted and provocative, and whatever game that he’s playing seems to work.

“Tom!” you call out when you’re just a few centimetres away. He leisurely pulls away from the girl, dark eyes twinkling mischievously as he looks up at you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

You grimace. Now you’re over here, on the receiving end of stares from Tom and his companion, you wonder why you’d responded so immediately and directly.

“You need to come with me. We have, uh… Things to do.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, stepping away from the girl as he crosses his biceps over his chest. He’s wearing his golden chain, the one that always drives you mad, and he looks so fucking handsome under the UV lights.

“And what would those things be, Y/N?” he asks. The girl at his side is looking between you both.

“You know,” you hiss.

The girl frowns, then huffs out a sigh and pushes at Tom’s arm. “Can we go upstairs?” she asks him. Tom glances at her, chewing his lower lip as he finds himself on the receiving end of her fluttering lashes.

“No, Jess,” he says, evening out the rejection with a soft smile. “I’m sorry. Have a good evening.” Before she can respond, Tom reaches out and takes your hand, pulling you with ease towards one of the corners of the room. You squeal as he tugs you, easily falling into his side and enjoying the press of his warm arm to yours. He drops his voice, pausing only when you’re on the edge of the dancefloor to spin you and press his hands to your waist. “Are you alright, darling?” he asks, smirking. “Looks to me like someone was a little jealous.”

Your body heats up, and you find yourself nibbling at your lower lip as you try to make sense of the situation. “Nope,” you lie. With ease, you reach up and rest your hands on Tom’s broad shoulders. “I was just… Thinking about the night we met. You said we could dance then, but we never did.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing out a convincing smile. “Do you want to change that?”

Tom growls, tugging you closer as he wraps his arms around you. The tips of his teeth brush up against the shell of your ear and you whimper as his hot breath fans out over the side of your face. “Fuck yeah, babe,” he murmurs.

You settle into it easily. Tom ends up pulling you so your back rests flush against his front, his arms skating around to hold your waist as you grind back against him. It’s close and hot, and it doesn’t take long for him to put his lips back where they belong—on your neck, kissing deeply. Everything that he does feels calculated and purposeful, but it’s only when he brings his kisses near your ear and whispers a low, “you’re so fucking hot, baby,” that you come back to earth.

“We… Shouldn’t,” you whimper. Tom kisses your lobe in response. “Harrison.”

“What about him?” he mutters. His voice is raspy and seductive, and the way he strokes his hands over your sides makes your eyes roll back. “He doesn’t care about you like I do, Y/N. You know he doesn’t.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the way Tom sucks deep bruises to the sensitive spot on your neck. Harrison had never been able to find it, had never even tried.

“He cares about me,” you say, voice hoarse.

“Yeah. But not enough.” Tom spins you in his arms, reaching up to cup your cheek in a hand. He peers at you, eyes wide and insistent. “He lies to you. Did he ever tell you about the night that you met?”

You quirk a brow. “No.”

A shadow of hesitation passes over Tom’s face, but he swallows it down. “He only came up to you as part of a… a fucking bet. That’s the only reason I didn’t come back to you that night.” He strokes his fingers over your cheekbone, soothing you when you frown. “You’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve ever met in my life, and it’s been killing me to see you both together.”

You press your forehead to his, feeling his breath come out in hot pants over your face. “Do you like me, Tom?”

He chuckles. “You have no idea how much, babe.” Tom shifts his hands back to your hair and he cradles your face. “I’d be so good to you. I swear.” He’s speaking earnestly, his voice breaking softly as he looks at you. “I love Haz. He’s my best mate. But we all know that you’re not a good fit. He left you here tonight. He doesn’t satisfy you.” Tom drops his voice, tilting his head to the side as his voice drops lower. He brings his lips closer, kissing the side of your mouth as you shiver. “I could satisfy you properly.”

You release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. For a moment you stare at Tom, eyes swirling down to his lips, then, as if entranced, you reach down and pull your phone from your bra. Using one hand on the screen, you reach up to cup Tom’s face with the other, smiling softly when he instinctively tilts his lips and kisses the palm of your hand. You write out a short message, the guilt in your heart fading when you briefly check Harrison’s Instagram story and see him surrounded by a sea of girls at the party he hadn’t invited you to.

After sending the message, you tilt the screen towards Tom’s face, watching his skin glow white as he slowly reads the few words.

You: Haz, I’m sorry to do this over text, but it’s over. I think we both know that we’re better as friends.

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip and slowly tuck your phone back against your chest. “It’s over.”

Tom kisses you immediately, both of his hands anchoring your cheeks. You could almost cry with how good it feels to have his mouth touching yours again. He parts his lips and slips his tongue into your mouth, and you moan as you wrap your arms around his neck. As he holds you tightly, his hands slip down to hold your waist, and though your teeth and noses collide and clash, you don’t care. It’s beautifully imperfect, and it’s so hot that it makes your whole body throb. Tom’s curls give you the perfect leverage to jerk him closer, and as you make out mercilessly on the edge of the dance floor, you feel a piece of you slot into place.

“Come upstairs with me,” he groans, voice thick as he speaks against your lips. Your mouth is wet with spit, but you don’t bother to wipe it clean when you pull back. Tom’s eyes glint with hunger, and he grabs at your hand when you nod.

The journey upstairs is fast and easy, full of your giggles as he runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The moment you’re in his room, Tom pushes you back against the door and flicks the lock, attaching his lips to your neck with ease.

“Tom,” you whine, running your hands all over his back as he sucks harshly against your skin.  

His hands skim lower and you curve your spine away from the door so he can grab handfuls of your ass, your moan mixing with his grunt when he pulls away from your neck to kiss your lips again. It’s as if he’s ravenous—unable to pick between your lips and your neck, your hips and your ass. Tom changes his position every few seconds, and the irregularity fills you with excitement.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he groans. Tom pulls back breathlessly, looking straight into your eyes. “Can I… Are you okay with this?” he clarifies, holding your gaze firmly until you nod.

“I’m more than okay with this,” you say.

“Good, good... Pretty baby.” Tom runs his index finger down your face, his knees bending as he slowly sinks down in front of you. He scatters two light kisses to each of your breasts before travelling down your navel, only stopping when he’s fully on his knees, gazing up at you from beneath his lashes. “Darling?”

“Hmm?” You’re light-headed but aroused, your dress feeling tight as you shuffle against the door.

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

Your breath catches in the back of your throat, and the first time you try to speak, only a moan comes out. Tom smirks, fingers easily pushing up the hem of your dress. As his fingertips stroke up your thighs to rest on your waistband, he pauses, tilting his head to the side in question. “Yeah,” you manage, voice a whisper. “I want that so badly.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, darling.” Tom’s head dips, disappearing between your legs. You whimper as he rubs the front of two fingers down the front of your panties, the material wet and warm. “God…” He unhooks them easily and tugs them down your legs, pausing to allow you to kick them off. When he repositions, he holds your thighs further apart and presses a kiss to your soft flesh. “You’re fucking soaked, lovie.” His hot breath fans across your centre. “Pretty cunt’s just waiting for me, isn’t it?”

His cockiness turns you on, and you’ve barely gotten out a garbled moan before he’s delving in. Tom’s skilful tongue runs up your slit, light at first, gradually leading you into it. You cry out as he finds your clit, sucking softly around the bud before lapping his tip across it gently. You have to reach out and grab ahold of the nearby bookshelf as arcs of pleasure spread out from your centre, small whimpers and moans being pulled from your mouth as Tom continues his assault.

“Tastes like paradise,” he whines, speaking against your cunt. “So sweet, baby. I understand why Haz likes being with you so much.” Tom pauses, drawing a few more strokes across your clit as you whimper. “Mine now,” he murmurs, deep voice vibrating across your centre. “My pussy.”

“Tom,” you moan, legs shaking. He responds by bringing his right hand up, slowly curving two of his digits into your heat. As he starts to thrust his fingers, the sounds of your wet arousal fill the air, making you moan louder. “Feels so good,” you encourage, realising he works harder when you speak to him. The top of his curls brushes against your legs as his tongue continues to glide over your clit, merciless and pleasurable.

“You sound so pretty, love,” Tom says, pulling away slightly. The vibrations from the noise make you moan louder, and you glance down to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust and his chin covered in your juices. He looks back between your legs, readjusting his fingers and curving them at different angles before he strikes gold. When you call out his name, his other hand goes up to your hips, holding you back against the door as he smirks. “I want you to cum for me, darling,” he coos. “Let me make you feel good. I want to hear those pretty little moans. Be loud for me.”

You don’t take much convincing, as once Tom’s got his mouth back on your clit, you’re arching your back as you fall over the edge. He laps your bud with his hot, firm tongue, his fingers continuing to stroke at your walls until you spasm into climax, reaching out to grab his hair as you moan and writhe against the door. He holds you up, even when you feel like falling, and it has to be the most intensely pleasurable orgasm that you’ve ever experienced in your life.

“Fuck,” you pant, only able to calm down when Tom pulls back. He sits on his shins, smacking his lips as he looks up at you, smirking. You’ve still got a hand on his head, so you fiddle with his hair as you recover. “That was so good.” A breathless smile finds your face. “So good. Thank you.”

“No problem, darling.” Tom clambers to his feet, and your eyes find themselves drawn to the bulge in his jeans. “Knew I could make you cum,” he says, speaking almost to himself. “Looked like an angel. Taste like one too.”

You swallow a moan and step forward, hands twisting behind your back to release your zipper. Tom’s eyes widen as you push down your dress, stepping out of it with ease.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” you ask, biting your lip as you look over to the bed. Tom shakes his head and offers you a hand after you’ve pulled your phone from your bra and placed it down on his desk.

“No way,” he agrees. Tom pushes you down onto the mattress but stays standing at the edge, nimble hands quickly releasing his belt and pulling off his jeans, then his shirt. You admire his Calvin Klein boxers, black with a white band skimming across the top, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Fuck,” he adds. His eyes skim your figure, appreciation held in his gaze. “I can’t believe I’ve got you here.” He gets on the bed, pushing you down and climbing on top of you as he kisses his way up to your mouth. When he’s hovering above your face, he cups your cheeks. “Most beautiful girl in the whole world, love. Girl of my dreams.”

You kiss him, your hands finally able to learn the curves of his muscular back. Tom grinds down into you, his covered crotch meeting your bare pussy, and the friction to your clit makes you moan into the kiss. As you admire his form, you settle into his lips, your heart beating faster and more persistently against your ribcage.

“Tom,” you say, speaking against his mouth. He pulls back, lips red and puffy. “You’re so handsome. Have I ever told you that?”

Tom bites his lip, continuing to roll his hips down against yours. When you start to grind up to meet him, an expression of enjoyment darkens his face. “Thanks, love.”

You lick your lips as you wrap your arms around him, holding him closer as he continues to grind into you. “Every time I’d see you out doing weights or walking around shirtless, it’d turn me on,” you admit. You snake a hand between your bodies, managing to press your palm up and against the outline of his cock. Tom groans loudly, dropping his head into the crook of your neck and whining as he ruts against the pressure. “I want to feel you,” you whimper. “Properly. I want to feel how good it is to have you inside me... I can feel you. I know you’re big.” You bite your lip. “I’ve thought about it for weeks.”

Tom forces his face away from your neck and meets your eyes, his pupils completely dilated. “You are going to be the death of me, lovie,” he says seriously, drawing a chuckle from your lips. Tom leans up and kisses you, softer, but only for a moment. He reaches across his bed and rummages through his bedside table, procuring a condom a second later.

“Let me do it,” you offer. Tom nods, and you swap positions with ease. Tom settles on the mattress, raising his hips and watching as you tug his boxers down his legs. You feel yourself salivate slightly as you take sight of his cock, erect and flushed, pressing up against his lower stomach. Holding the open condom in one hand, you run your thumb over his tip with the other, gathering beads of his silver precum on your fingertip. You meet Tom’s eyes and sit back on his thighs as you push your finger into your mouth, exaggerating your moan as you lick it clean.

Tom tosses his head back, his hair fluffing up against the pillows. His cock twitches against his stomach. “Fuck, baby… You’re driving me crazy.” When you reach back and roll the condom over his length, he can barely keep still, rutting up and filling your hand the moment you’re done. “You know… every time you stayed the night with Haz, I could hear you guys,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. You give him a few pumps, biting your lip as you admire his member and try to imagine how good it’ll feel filling you to the brim. “Used to get off listening to your moans. Imagining it was me fucking you. Thinking… Thinking about how good it’d be to- fuck- to open you up on my cock.”

His words make you feel hot, and you speed up the rhythm of your hand as you watch his face flush with heat. “I know,” you admit. “I could hear you sometimes.” You lean up and press a kiss to his chest, feeling his hot skin between your lips. “You make the hottest noises, Tom.”

“For you,” he groans, jaw tensing. “It’s all for you.” He continues to rut into your hand, and you smirk as you feel him throb. As Tom grows more erratic, you feel your slick between your legs thicken and your core begin to throb.

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

Tom immediately bounces his head, eyes lighting up like you’ve spoken the only thing he’s ever wanted to hear. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—”

You bend over to kiss him, sliding up his body with ease. Tom reaches up your back, eager hands falling to a stop at your bra. He manages to unclasp it after a few attempts, grinning victoriously against your lips as it falls slack. Once you’ve thrown it aside, you sit back, watching as Tom’s hand goes down to guide his cock through your slit. One of his hands rests on your hip, palm hot and heavy, and he gives you a short squeeze as he presses his tip against your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, moaning loudly as his girth stretches your cunt. Your eyes squeeze shut as you adjust, breath hitching when Tom adds his thumb to your clit, the pleasure easing the stretch. When you’re completely seated, you find yourself shifting, Tom groaning when you clench and slowly start to ride him.

“Oh my god,” he moans. “Feels like heaven, darling. Actual heaven.” His jaw is tense as he tosses his head back, prying open an eye to watch as you bounce over him, moving faster as you find your rhythm. “So wet, sweetheart. So tight… So much better than I’d ever imagined.” He’s looking at you with pleasure screwed across his face, and the sight of him so desperate makes you feel powerful.

“Tom,” you whimper. “I can feel you so deep.” You’re starting to unravel, feeling him everywhere. With the thumb still rolling over your clit, his hand weighing down your hip, and the tip of his cock brushing deeper each time you come together, you can feel yourself on the verge already. “Can you… I can’t…”

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

It happens easily, without Tom falling from you. A moment later, you’re resting over the warm mattress, wrapping your legs around Tom’s back and pulling him closer as he rails you into the bed. He’s faster than you’d been, and the new angle opens you up deeper, allowing his tip to press more pronouncedly against your g-spot. His chain dangles against your neck, the cool metal scorching against your flushed skin.

“Oh god,” Tom groans. The sounds of your bodies meeting as he roughly thrusts into you, again and again, fill the air. “You’re so perfect. Feels so good.” His eyes are dark as they meet with yours, swirling with unrestrained lust. “So wet, lovie. D’you like it when I fuck you? Yeah? Pussy’s squeezing me so tight. My pussy, isn’t it? You’re mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, liking how it sounds.

Tom grunts and drills into you faster. With each rotation of his hips against yours, his thick head reaches further, dragging across your g-spot with ease and causing sparks to race up your spine. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, and you clutch at his torso for purchase as you scramble to stay grounded. When you add a hand to your clit, you feel your cunt clench, squeezing his length and making him groan again.

‘I’m not gonna last, love. Shit. Feels too fucking good,” he whimpers.

You bring his lips back to yours, meeting them clumsily as you moan. Your skin is hot and sweaty, being smothered by the heat of his body bearing down on you. You wind your free hand into his hair. “It’s okay,” you get out, voice catching. “I’m so close, Tom. Fuck. Make me cum. Please.”

You ride the edge for a few moments more before Tom cries out, calling your name in a voice so exerted and broken that it pushes you over the edge too. As his cock pulses against your walls and his groans fall like music to your ears, you let everything go, basking in the pleasure that crashes over your figure in thick, consuming waves. Tom’s hands are slick as they grasp at your sides, but he’s holding you tightly in place and you like it.

When the air finally clears, Tom pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside you with a loud groan. You flip onto your side, quivering as your core pangs with pleasurable aftershocks, your tired eyes drifting up to meet his. He reaches out, sweaty palm drifting to your face as he cups your cheek and smiles at you.

“Well,” he starts, voice low. He pulls you closer, and you carefully curl yourself into his arms. Tom nuzzles his lips against your forehead and leaves three light kisses to your skin. “That was a heavenly experience.”

You snort, burying your face in his chest and feeling the cool metal of his chain press to your skin. “Heavenly?”

“Mhmm. Because you’re an angel. My angel.”

You smile into his front. “What a charmer,” you say.

Tom combs some fingers over your hair and softly coaxes you away from his chest. Both of you share a pillow, his deep brown eyes feel of inquisition as he looks at you.

“Darling,” he mumbles, speaking slowly, almost nervous. “I like you a lot. And… And I know the circumstances are messy and complicated, but… I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. I want this to be an every time thing. I want you to be my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Yeah. My girlfriend.” Tom’s handsome eyes flutter over your face. “What do you say?”

You trace your index finger around the sculpted lines of his face, smiling softly as his lips pull into a grin. You think about how your life has changed since the first night you met him, and how your heart has slowly learnt to gravitate towards him. Tom’s right—it is messy, and maybe your union is complicated and a little wrong too, but it feels good. Him kissing your forehead and pulling you closer feels good. He feels good.

“Yeah,” you agree, speaking slowly. “I would really like that.”

Tom’s face splits into a smile, and he pushes in to kiss you. “Good,” he murmurs. “‘Cos I’m gonna woo you every single day of your life. I’ll bring you tea every morning, tuck you in at night. Make you moan louder than you’ve ever moaned in your life—”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already won me over, Tom, you can calm down—”

“Nope.” Tom’s grinning widely as he continues to peck your lips, unable to keep his hands off you. “I’ll keep charming you until I’ve won your heart, babe. This is just how it’s got to be.”

You kiss him, not knowing how to tell him that he’s already had your heart, firmly in the palm of his hand, since the very first night you met.

“Well,” you respond, voice quiet in the air. “I quite like the sound of that.”

Tom nuzzles his nose against you, lips brushing yours. “Yeah?”

You hum affirmatively and reach up to bury your hands back into his hair. “Yeah.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

:D let me know what you think please !!! I would love to know if you have a favourite scene...?! I am torn between y/n putting tom to bed + the lecture theatre...lmk (if you want !!)

mlist + taglist are through the link in my bio <3 

thank you for reading!! <3<3

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #frat!tom #frat!tom holland #frat!tomfic #smut #alternate summary for this is: tom has a raging b*ner for 16k straight

[farfromharry]

Who would’ve thought | Frat!Tom

Summary: Who would’ve thought that the frat boy with the concerning reputation would actually be a big softie with a thing for romance? All it took was the right girl.

Word count - 3,705

Warnings - drinking, mentions of throwing up, language

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Tom Holland, the ultimate frat boy of the campus.

You first heard about him through people in your classes, the classes you were meant to share with him if he were to ever show up. He was considered cocky, a little bit of a whore, and didn’t have a care for anyone who he wasn’t A, trying to sleep with or B, wasn’t a part of his frat.

You didn’t expect good things at all when meeting him for the first time, so that dreaded day when you got your new seating arrangements for the rest of the term and you just so happened to be sitting next to the frat boy himself, was unfortunately also the first day he showed up to your criminology class.

He showed up in a rather casual outfit, nothing too out of the ordinary. A dark blue hoodie with a matching cap sitting backwards on his head. When he turned his head to the side you could see the accent of small brunette curls sticking out of the back of his hat, accentuated by his sharp jawline.

He took one look at the seating chart and you saw, even from your spot near the back, the way his eyebrows drew together in confusion. He had no idea who you are.

You left him to work it out on his own, not wanting to be that girl who made a fool of herself in front of the infamous frat boy.

It didn’t take long until you felt his presence beside you, forcing yourself not to look. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention to him and missing the way you cursed yourself for giving in so easily.

“Are you Y/N?” You nodded your head and you could almost see the breath of relief he let out.

Tom took a seat next to you with a small smile. You assumed he was just trying to get on your good side to ask you for answers or borrow your notes, something he’d need for missing so much of the class work. “I’m Tom,” he said, deep voice unwillingly making your stomach fill with butterflies.

He held out his hand for you to shake, a crooked smile on his lips as he waited for you to respond. “Y/N.” The second your hand touched his, the boy was convinced he had to get to know you better, something about your shy persona intriguing him. “But, you already knew that,” you laughed nervously.

He thought your nerves were cute, the corners of his eyes creasing from how hard he was smiling. He slid into the seat next to you, the boy mentally debating how he was going to go about this. Tom wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t think you were gorgeous because he was definitely slightly taken aback by you when you first looked at him with those doe eyes, so he didn’t want to ruin things before they’d even started.

“So, you probably know I haven’t been to a single one of these classes,” he said. You laughed, nodding your head. He felt his own lips twitching into a smile when he heard the angelic sound. “Are they really as bad as everyone says?”

You hummed as you thought about it, taking a few seconds. In that time Tom was fully taking advantage, his eyes raking over your face admirably, taking a mental note of all your different features. You tried not to let your nerves get to you when you noticed. “They’re definitely as bad as people say.”

He groaned, catching the eyes of a few different people around you both that made you sink into your seat awkwardly. He laughed it off, finding it amusing how easy it was to get you all flustered, deciding he would be using that with his flirting tactics from then on.

“Let’s hope you make them better then,” he mumbled, biting his lip to contain the smirk threatening to overtake his face. You didn’t respond but he could see from his peripheral vision that you shifted nervously in your seat.

Tom wasn’t sure if he was also getting flustered while talking to you or if he was subconsciously thinking showing off his physique would somehow catch your interest like it had done countless times before with the other girls on campus. But either way, he pulled the cap off of his head, lazily running his fingers through his curls for a second.

You glanced over when you saw his hands go to the hem of his hoodie, watching with the tip of your pen between your teeth as he began to peel the material off of his body.

You almost choked when you saw the grey, cotton shirt slip up and expose the bottom of his abdomen, hard muscles and a sliver of his underwear peeking through.

He placed the hoodie on the back off his chair once it was completely off, exposing the tight, plain grey shirt that clung to every ridge and muscle.

He heard your shaky inhale and couldn’t stop the smirk that crept onto his face, shooting you a single glance before he turned his head back to the front of the class.

You’d expected Tom to be a lot more distracting, seeing as he was quick to start up conversation with you earlier, but to your surprise he actually seemed to be paying attention.

This class flew by much quicker than the all the other ones, and you weren’t sure whether that was due to your thoughts being cloudy by the pretty boy next to you.

“Do you maybe want to come to a party next week?” he asked. You were taken off guard, your eyebrows raising as you packed away your stuff.

“I, um-“ He could see your internal conflict, interrupting before you had the chance to reject his offer.

“You don’t have to, of course, but if you do-“ He tore the corner off of a sheet of paper in his notebook, scribbling down the address of the frat house that you were sure you’d be able to find without his help. “Here’s the address, and there’s my number.”

His lips curved into a smirk as he handed you the scrap of paper, your fingertips brushing and creating another wave of butterflies for you.

“Uh, thank you. I’ll be sure to consider it.” You didn’t want to give him a final answer right now because you weren’t much of a party girl. You’d much rather stay in but as soon as your roommate got word she’d definitely be making it her mission to get you to that party.

“I look forward to maybe seeing you there.” He gave you a fake salute and turned to walk away, one hand holding the strap of his bag and the other carrying his discarded hoodie. When he reached the door of the classroom he gave you one last look over his shoulder, throwing you a wink before he was gone.

»»——⍟——««

The week had passed and you still hadn’t used Tom’s number at all, and he didn’t have yours to text you first, so he just has to wait. The man had no idea if you really were coming or not. It was unusual for him but he was nervous and his friends were starting to notice. Harrison had seen how Tom took a little extra time to get ready for tonight, pointing it out to Tom’s younger brother who brushed it off as him trying to pull another girl, and he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Who are you waiting for, mate?” the blonde asked, placing his hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. Tom sighed, checking the watch on his wrist one more time, assuming that you weren’t showing up.

“A girl from my criminology class, but doesn’t look like she’s gonna show.” The younger of the two just shrugged his shoulder, encouraging his friend to finish his drink and go get another one with him. “Just enjoy your night mate, with or without her,” he said, lightly punching his shoulder in a friendly way before disappearing into the crowd. Tom nodded even as he walked away, quietly mumbling to himself, with or without her.

That mindset was gone as soon as he saw you. His entire face practically lit up as he spotted you coming through the front door of the house, politely pushing your way through a group of people who were blocking the entrance.

He was by your side in seconds, people moving out of his way as if he was a God, and you had to admit you were a little grateful because it definitely made it easier to move.

“You came,” he cheered, boldly linking his fingers with yours and dragging you straight to the kitchen. He could tell just from the way your hand subconsciously tightened around his every time someone so much as cast their eyes your way that you were nervous, if you were being honest you didn’t really want to be here.

“Yeah, um, my roommate,” you poorly explained, pursing your lips together. He nodded in understanding, giving you a quick run down on the drinks the frat house had on offer.

He was only slightly surprised when you turned them all down, shyly asking if you could have water instead.

“Thank you,” you muttered, your eyes roaming around the kitchen. This was one of the more less crowded areas of the house, and even then you could barely breathe from the wave of people filtering in and out every few minutes to get more drinks.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out you weren’t enjoying the party. Even with his efforts of getting you to loosen up, Tom could still see the traces of a frown on your lips and your stiff posture. He took a step closer to you, placing his hand lightly on your lower back, your eyes flickering to him to see what he was up to. He leaned down to your ear so you could hear him better, more or less having to shout for you to hear his words over the booming music.

“D’you want to get out of here?” he asked, gulping down the remainder of his beverage from the solo cup. Your eyes widened at the suggestive comment and you would’ve been disgusted if he hadn’t jumped in so quickly after the words left his mouth to correct his meaning. “Not like that, no, I meant um-“

This was the first time you’d seen him nervous, and you found it quite adorable the way his cheeks turned a light shade of pink; although that could’ve easily just been from the alcohol or the heat of the room.

“I meant, you don’t look like you’re having fun, and as my guest it’s my job to make sure you are.” His words didn’t sound any better in your head, but he clearly thought they did in his drunk one.

“What are you saying, Tom?”

“Do you want to go on a walk with me or something?” You smiled softly, thinking over your options quickly. Either stay in this dreadful party with the couples making out and drunk idiots running about the place, or go get some fresh air with a very cute and surprisingly polite frat boy.

It was safe to say your mind was quickly made up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He linked your fingers together so it’d be easier to lead you through the crowd, throwing out his cup on the way.

Stepping outside the front door of the house you were hit with a wave of very cooling fresh air. You felt your body heat immediately cool down, a nice and very different sensation from the heat inside the party.

You still didn’t seem to be away from drunken idiots, Tom letting out a groan when he noticed some kids throwing up on the grass outside the house. Your face screamed disgust but you couldn’t help but laugh at him anyway.

He led you away from the house, muttering something about how he was going to leave that to someone else to clean up.

You didn’t even realise that you were still holding hands until Tom subconsciously squeezed yours when he felt you shiver from the sudden breeze.

You cleared your throat, nervously pulling your hand away and shooting him a tight lipped smile. You could see him frown slightly and with a small accepting nod he slipped his hand back in his pocket.

“So, why did you suddenly decide to show up to class?” you asked, a little out of the blue as you strolled side by side down the path in the empty park. Tom didn’t really have a good answer, it was either show up or completely fail the class and he wasn’t prepared to get yelled at by his mother for failing yet another class; but that didn’t sound like a cool thing to tell the girl he was trying to impress.

“Maybe I heard there was a really pretty girl in there who could use my attention,” he flirted, bumping his shoulder against yours. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath for him to stop being so cheesy.

You didn’t understand why he’d taken such a sudden interest in you. It’d only been a week since you’d met but even in such a short time Tom had found himself infatuated with you, but not in a creepy way.

“Why did you invite me, Tom?” The question had been lingering in the front of your mind for days, and unfortunately you just had to ask now.

You both came to a stop, turning to face each other as you peered at him curiously. You saw Tom’s cheeks flush, the close proximity of your faces allowing you to see every small detail of the way his blush overtook his cheeks and nose.

“Just full of questions aren’t you?” he nervously laughed. The question was rhetorical of course, buying him time to come up with an answer. He took a deep breath, pursing his lips together awkwardly. “I like you. I know we only met last week but I-“

You could feel your heart stop for a moment, needing time to comprehend what he’d just said to you. “There’s something about you Y/N, and I’d really like to get to know you better.”

Your silence didn’t seem like good news to Tom. He let himself get ahead of the situation completely, his heart sank into his stomach and he was bracing himself for your rejection.

“Tom, is this some kind of joke?” you asked, convinced this couldn’t have been real. The big frat boy with the bad reputation wanting to go out with you?

“No, no of course not. Y/N, just give me a chance,” he begged, taking your hands in his gently. His thumbs stroked circles over the skin on the back of each of your hands, his eyes watching you full of hope.

“Come on, one date. If you hate it you don’t even have to talk to me ever again,” he offered. You cocked your head, your eyebrows drawing together in a way Tom thought was cute.

“Really?”

He tried to backtrack. “Well, no. That’d suck for me if you did. But you get the point.”

You let out a small laugh, looking up at the pair of soft brown eyes that were waiting for hopefully a good answer.

“Fine. One date can’t hurt.” He cheered silently, leaning down to place a cheeky kiss on your cheek that left you stuttering nervously.

“You won’t regret it.”

»»——⍟——««

It was many weeks before you actually gave into Tom for a second date. At first it was just dates, which from what you’d heard were out of the ordinary for him in general, but then somehow it progressed into a beautifully blossoming relationship, if you do say so yourself.

You were scared at first that he was going to fall back into that fuckboy role, or like in the movies he was going to be embarrassed about being seen with you, but it was the complete opposite.

He couldn’t tell enough people that you were dating. When dragging you along to parties it was always, have you met my girlfriend Y/N?, or an arm thrown around your shoulder with lots of kisses placed all over your face and neck to let people know you were taken.

Cute little picnic dates became surprisingly very common when you and Tom finally made things official. All your friends told you that they’d never known Tom to be this involved with a girl, because he didn’t normally waste his time taking his pursuits on dates.

The first time showed up at your door with a picnic basket and flowers in hand you were honestly shocked. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere because of the nice weather but it didn’t even cross your mind.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, watching you set the flowers down on your counter. You turned around with a playful eye roll at the way he was rushing you.

“Go where?” you giggled, slipping your hand in his outstretched one. He placed his lips on yours softly, drawing an unintentional grin from you. “‘m taking you on a picnic, want to enjoy the weather with my girl.”

From that day on it was almost a weekly thing, but it was also the thing that let you know Tom was serious about your relationship and wasn’t just planning on breaking your heart.

You and Tom had been in a comfortable silence for a while now. He believed you were reading the book you brought with you, so he didn’t want to interrupt. He chose instead to just look around at your surroundings, watching other people laugh and have fun in the field that sat in front of the university.

Little did he know you’d actually been admiring him for the last ten or so minutes. You stared at the way his jaw clenched every few seconds, making his jawline look even more prominent than it was. The way his curls so effortlessly fell into a perfect position on his head, and the way his biceps would bulge in the tight black shirt every time he would fix his hair after a slight gust of wind blew it into his face.

You snapped out of your daze when you noticed he was talking to someone, wondering if it was you. That was when you noticed a group of lads that were in the same frat as Tom, teasing him about how whipped he was for you.

“Fuck off,” Tom groaned, flipping them all off as they chuckled. They eventually gave up, running away snickering at the rise they’d managed to get from their clearly irritated friend.

“‘M sorry about them,” he said, gently running the back of his hand over your cheek. You nuzzled closer to it for a moment, providing him with a split second of affection before you were back to your book.

All the teasing left you thinking, Tom noticing the way you were chewing on your bottom lip, something he’d noticed you did often when you were deep in your head.

“‘s going on in that pretty head of yours?” he asked, brushing some hair out of your face. You sighed softly, locking eyes with your boyfriend.

“Who would’ve thought?” you mumbled, barely catching his ears from how quiet it was. He hummed in confusion, having no idea what you were referring to until you’d decide to finish your sentence.

You rolled over onto your stomach, inevitably rolling off of Tom’s lap. You pushed yourself up to your knees, hands on either side of Tom’s legs as you got close to his face with your own.

His hand shifted from his lap to cup your cheek, a small grin forming on his face as the man admired how beautiful you were up close. He was almost too distracted by your features, and those sparkling eyes looking at him to even comprehend the words coming out of your mouth, but luckily he caught them anyway.

“Who would’ve thought that the king of the frat, the biggest playboy on campus, whore if you will,” you exaggerated, lips curling into a grin. “Was secretly a big softie.”

His heart fluttered slightly but he scoffed at your beginning words, feigning offence at the names you’d labelled him with. “I can be romantic,” he whined, trying his best to defend himself.

You hummed, pretending to think about it to tease him even further. He huffed, happily forgetting his pouty mood with a few soft, short kisses from you.

“I’m kidding,” you whispered, slotting your lips together again in a sweet kiss. “Better be,” he grumbled, rubbing his thumb across your temple lovingly.

“Even if you are a whore, you’re still my favourite whore,” you teased, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to hold back your giggle. You saw him roll his eyes, his hand playfully pushing your head away from him until you were once again laying back in his lap.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, nudging you with the knee that you were laying on. You chuckled quietly, nuzzling your head against his stomach, your arms snaking around his waist.

“I love you though,” you whispered, feeling as though a massive weight had been lifted off of you. That was the first time either of you had said those words. You hadn’t been dating long, and part of you was still scared he wasn’t serious about this, but god did it feel good to say out loud.

Tom was shocked, staring down at you with his mouth agape. He felt butterflies exploding in his stomach and he realised he should probably say something before you start to overthink, something you were very good at.

“Yeah?” he asked, just making sure. You nodded your head, tightening your grip around your boyfriend’s torso, almost like you were afraid he’d run away.

“I-I love you too,” he announced, feeling your entire body relax against his. “Even if you do think I’m a whore.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

tom holland taglist → @seutarose​ @lmaotshollandd​ @photoshopart15​ @hopelessly-harry​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @icyhollands​ @sinisterspidey​ @siriuslyslyslytherin​ @musicalkeys-blog​ @itstaskeen​ @tpwk-grande​ @zspideyy​ @spideyssunshine​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @lowkey-holland​ @hollandcrush​ @wizkiddx​ @sannie-san-shine​ @sonnydoesrandomshit​ @hopeless-romantic-baby​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @dummiesshort​ @itsbieberxholland​ @lillucyandthejets​ @piscesparker​ @bvttercupbby​ @mymilliefrommarketing​ @spideyspeaches​ @kujokura @l0velyevans​ @jess-holland23​ @felicityparkers​ @quxxnxfhxll​ @captainamirica​ @tomsirishgirlx​ @lou-la-lou​ @slutforsr​ @tayyx​ @bora-world​ @annathesillyfriend​ @lovableparker​ @whoeveniskendall​ @hollandswife​ @sunwardsss​ @dhtomholland​ @messedupmyfuckinglife​ @bi-lmg​ @londonspidey​ @multixfandomwriter​ @mrsholland96​ @tomhollandismyhusband1996​ @just-lost-inbetween-worlds​ @magicalxdaydream​ @hallecarey1​ @aayaissaa​

#tom holland #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #frat!tom

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

@loverhymeswith asked: Ok I have a request ☺️ I would love to know how Rick and Delphia meet for the very first time! 💕

If I Go Universe - The Night We Met (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: Task Force X is finally getting it's feet off the ground, and Delphia is introduced to its first commanding officer: Colonel Rick Flag. Sparks instantly fly between them. But Delphia always had the bad habit of looking into the futures of people she has a crush on.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 4185

Warnings: language, fluff, a pinch of angst, yearning/pining/swooning, not necessarily a meet cute but they're cute and they're meeting

Timeline: April 2014

if i go masterlist

Delphia set down the little cactus on the top right corner of her desk, then she stared at it with a sigh and her chin resting in her hand. The poor plant had seen better days. There was tape and a toothpick keeping one of the arms on and there was a slight dent in the top. She supposed that was what happened when you moved to three different offices in the span of a year. You got a little dinged up along the way.

At least this office was better than ARGUS. There she had actually had to share an office space with Waller and that was never fun. The woman was a yeller when people weren’t giving her what she wanted and frankly, it made Delphia’s ears ring. But now, at Belle Reve, in the newly built administrative wing, she had her very own office.

Well, kind of. She had, at the very least, a desk in the waiting area for Waller’s office. And to Delphia that most definitely counted. The walls were a drab shade of light grey and there were a few cushioned wooden chairs along the walls. Her desk faced the door so she could greet Waller’s appointments and get them seated to wait for her, and Waller’s heavy wooden door was to her left.

Delphia readjusted the cactus one last time so she couldn’t see the broken arm, a way to lessen her guilt about breaking the plant her boss had given her. She wondered how long they were going to stay at this place. She assumed at least a few years. This entire project was Waller’s baby, an idea she had nurtured and planned through to the last detail. And each of those details she made Delphia look into the future over, just to make sure the procedures worked and that they were hiring the right people. So far everything was going well. But then again, they hadn’t even introduced the actual criminals into Task Force X yet.

The emergency phone over by the door suddenly ringing made Delphia jump in her seat. With a hand to her heart, she got up from her chair to answer it. The phone on her desk hadn’t been hooked up to the landline yet, which made Waller furious. So for now everyone was to use the emergency phones that in the future were to only be used to call the penitentiary security.

“Amanda Waller’s office,” Delphia answered the phone, shoulder leaned against the wall.

“Hey, yeah, this is Waits at the front gate. We’ve got a Colonel Flag who says he has an appointment with Ms. Waller.”

“Oh, yes, he’s her ten o’clock. Go ahead and let him in and we’ll pick him up from the waiting room. Thanks, Waits.”

“No problem, ma’am. See you in a few.”

“Yes, see you.”

She replaced the phone on the receiver with a clack. Another problem that made Waller exceptionally angery: the administration parking lot and entrance weren’t complete yet so all guests and staff still had to use the highly guarded and complicated main entrance to the prison. Delphia sighed and made her way over to Waller’s closed office door, rapping her knuckles on the wood lightly.

“Amanda? Your ten o’clock is here,” she said.

Waller yanked open the door and Delphia jumped back from the threshold as she walked through. “Who is that again?”

“Colonel Richard Flag, candidate for the commanding officer position.” Delphia handed Waller the file from her desk as they headed towards the door. “Current special forces. Had a run in with a metahuman in the Yucatan and was transferred to ARGUS.”

“Hmm, go ahead and set up conference room D. I’ll walk him up alone — get a read on him. He’s the one you said would be most successful, right?” Waller stopped in the hallway, file tucked under her arm.

Delphia shrugged. “Potentially.”

“At this point, I’ll take potentially,” Waller sighed, “Make sure my powerpoint’s up and ready when we get there.”

“You got it.”

The two women went their separate ways. Delphia walked down the long hallway, the walls still unpainted and some light switches still being wired. But at least conference room D was complete and already filled with the proper furnishings. If it wasn’t, she was sure Waller would’ve had somebody's head about not having a room to meet in.

Humming quietly to herself, Delphia made sure that the powerpoint was already up on the TV screen and the clicker was on and working for Waller to use. Then she set out a notepad and pen at the conference table, just in case the Colonel wanted to write down any notes or questions. And lastly she set up her own laptop at one of the chairs along the wall so she could take ample notes throughout the course of the interview for Waller to go over later. A common routine as of late, considering the Colonel was the third man they were going to interview for this position. Not that the other candidates hadn’t been good, they all just got spooked at what they were trying to do here. And Delphia really couldn’t blame them.

The idea of the Task Force was insane and had a high possibility of not working. But Waller was sure that her plan would work. As long as they had a good and highly skilled commanding officer on their side.

And Waller really didn’t understand why Delphia couldn’t just tell her who they were going to hire. Delphia tried to tell her, multiple times, that that just wasn’t how it worked. The flow of time was vague and interpreting its outcomes was a crapshoot at best. If there was a full plan and guarantees, then yes, conclusions were easy to see. But this was vague, too many variables at play. When she looked into the future of the Task Force, using what little information they had, all of her visions were transparent and glimmering. Not solid and realistic like most of her visions were. At this point, the timeline branched off in too many directions for her to see which one was the true path. It frustrated Waller that her psychic was so unhelpful in this situation, but Delphia could only shrug it off as time being a finicky little bitch.

The door to the conference room opened and Delphia immediately got to her feet, straightening out her skirt so she looked as professional as possible in front of the Colonel. Waller walked through the door first.

“Thank you,” she said.

And then Delphia’s heart stopped.

Or maybe it was going too fast? She really couldn’t tell. All she did know was that was not how she expected Colonel Flag to look. She thought a man much older would be walking through that door, having convinced herself that the photograph included in his file was dated. But clearly it was not. He was tall, broad, and as tan as the sun was long. He was wearing his combat uniform, SPECIAL FORCES stamped onto the left breast pocket. Her eyes widened as they trailed up his frame and landed on his face. The expression he wore was jovial despite how hard his exterior seemed to be, but she couldn’t deny the beauty in it. Even with the severe military cut and slightly ridiculous goutee and mustache. Their eyes caught, and Delphia looked back to the floor quickly. She needed to get a grip, he wasn’t that cute.

She glanced back up at him one last time. Oh, Jesus, maybe he was that cute.

“Colonel Flag, this is my assistant, Delphia Holman,” Waller introduced.

Flag stuck out his hand first, giant and calloused. Delphia wrapped her own, smaller hand around it tentatively. His handshake was firm and it hurt slightly when she pulled away. But she couldn’t help but linger on how warm his skin felt, how it felt like electricity shot up her arm when he touched her. She flexed her hand at her side, an attempt to get a sense of normalcy back to her fingertips, and she hoped that no one noticed.

She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” He smiled at her, a small boyish grin that had her cheeks flaring. The slight southern drawl of his deep voice caught her off guard. “Delphia — where’s that from?”

“It’s — uh — it’s Greek.”

“Never heard it before.”

“Most people haven’t — my dad did some archeological work in Delphi, so he thought it was appropriate.”

“I agree with him.” Flag grinned again and Delphia thought it was way too hot in that conference room. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Delphia’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Jesus Christ. Her tongue felt too big in her mouth. Her insides felt heavy like stones. Her face and neck were on fire. And he was just looking at her with that little grin, and suddenly his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip as he huffed out a laugh. It was like she was standing too close to the sun, caught in it’s orbit, she wanted to get away in fear of getting burned but it was too warm to leave.

“Colonel Flag, you can take a seat,” Waller suddenly said from behind the podium, “Delphia’s only here to take notes.”

Right. Waller was here. They were in a conference room attached to a prison full of the world’s worst. For a moment there, it felt like all of that had disappeared.

“Yeah, just — er — pretend I’m not here.” Delphia retreated away from him and back to her chair.

She caught eyes with Waller, who gave her a raised eyebrow look. Delphia only smiled tensely back.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Delphia sunk into her seat thankfully, resisting the urge to fan at her hot skin as she placed her laptop in her lap. She stole one last glance at the Colonel as Waller started her presentation. He was completely focused on the screen behind Waller. Fingers crossed together in his lap and brow slightly furrowed as he paid attention. It was too much to look at him, overwhelming with thoughts of that hand wrapped around hers and those lips quirked in a grin. Delphia shook her head and looked back down to the blank document open on her screen.

She really needed to focus.

Waller had come back from the interview the day before without even needing to look at Delphia’s notes. Colonel Rick Flag was perfect for the role and actually willing to take it. Delphia had to wonder why, though. Had he grown weary of his placement in the military? Was he looking for something new and challenging? Maybe that was it. She had to imagine that no one who didn’t like skimming too close to death and driving themselves nearly mad would take this position. But Flag thought he could make it work, and Waller was over the moon that somebody finally said yes.

So Colonel Rick Flag was invited back for a second interview the following day. And Delphia really couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled in her chest at the prospect of seeing him again, of seeing him every day at work for that matter.

As she went home that night and made her meal and went about going to bed, her mind constantly wandered to those few moments they shared together. To what it might be like to see each other in the halls, get coffee at the same time in the breakroom, or even attend meetings together where they may by chance sit next to one another. It felt stupid and childish but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop wondering if maybe, just maybe, he was having similar emotions — wherever he was.

Delphia sat at her desk, typing up an outline of how a meeting Waller had next week with the Lousiana Senator was going to go. Including exactly what the Senator was going to say and how he was going to respond. A defined and solid moment in time because Delphia knew the subject matter and everything about who was going to be attending the meeting.

The emergency phone ringing across the room made her jump out of her skin again.

She rushed to answer it and said, “Amanda Waller’s office.”

“Yep, Waits at the front gate here. Colonel Flag is back for his two o’clock.”

“I’ll let her know and someone’ll be down to get him from the waiting room shortly. Thanks, Waits.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

Delphia knocked on Waller’s door. “Amanda? Colonel Flag is here.”

“Shit,” Waller’s muffled voice responded, “Can you get him, Delphia? I’m on the phone with the president.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks as she shuffled out the door and down the hallway. She could already feel how warm they were and she hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet. Jesus, she needed to get it together and act professional. She was thirty years old for crying out loud. She wasn’t supposed to get stupid crushes like she was still in high school. Right?

Colonel Flag wasn’t in his military uniform today. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, leather boots worn with time and a dirty baseball cap over his head. He somehow looked even hotter with that on than the uniform. Delphia smiled, uncontrollable and attempting at a professional greeting, as she walked into the waiting room of the prison. But as she got closer, she felt her stomach tie up in knots and threaten to force bile up her throat. There were tattoos poking out of the sleeves of his t-shirt and he was holding two cups of coffee as he sat in the plastic chair he barely fit in.

“Colonel Flag, nice to see you again,” Delphia greeted as she stopped just beyond the waiting room door.

Flag looked over at her and instantly smiled. He got up from his seat and came over to her. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours and she had completely forgotten how he towered over her, even if she was wearing heels.

He handed over one of the paper cups. “This’s for you.”

“Oh.” She took it with warm cheeks but an unsure smile. “Um, sorry that Waller’s not here — she’s on a call with the president.”

“Eh, I suspected you’d be the one to pick me up this time anyway.” Oh. So he had gotten the coffee with her specifically in mind. “Wait — hold on. Like, the president?”

Delphia wrapped her hands around the paper cup and steered them around towards the administrative wing door. She waved at the guard to let them in and they walked through the doorway with ease.

“Yeah, that gets dropped pretty casually around here a lot. Waller has many friends in high places.”

Their footsteps echoed in the unfinished hallways. Filling in the silence that had fallen between them. Delphia desperately tried not to feel awkward. But she just couldn’t help it. It felt like she was back in high school. Running an errand for her favorite teacher with her crush from class, which she would later find out that that teacher did on purpose. Which made a completely different thought dawn on her.

Did Waller do this on purpose?

Waller never did anything without purpose, without some other motive. She even admitted to giving Delphia that stupid cactus in order to keep her loyal. Which she really didn’t have to do, Delphia actually enjoyed working for the woman despite her cold and demanding nature. But what could Waller’s motive possibly be for this? For encouraging…something between them?

Delphia took a sip of the coffee Flag had bought her as she thought. But then spluttered when the taste of it hit her tongue.

“What?” Flag laughed over the lip of his own cup, “Is it shit? It’s from my hotel so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“No, no — it’s okay. It’s okay,” Delphia insisted, taking another drink of it for emphasis.

Flag looked at her skeptically. “You sure?”

“It’s just, um…” She looked towards the ceiling, praying that she would just sink through the floor already and get away from this awkwardness. “I drink my coffee black and uh…there’s alotta cream in here. Just surprised me is all.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

There was going to be a next time? Delphia thought as he opened the office door for her and let her walk through first.

Sheepishly, she told him to take a seat and Waller would be out in a few minutes. It was tortuous sitting in the same room as him. She tried to just go back to her work but he was sitting right there. He took the closest seat to her desk and Waller’s office. He just sat there and sipped his coffee and scrolled on his phone. He wasn’t even really doing anything and yet it was the most distracting thing in the entire world.Her eyes constantly flicked over to him, only being able to type out a few words before having to stop and just stare at her fingers — poised over the keyboard but her brain anywhere else but this meeting write up.

“So, uh — how long’ve you worked for Waller?” Flag suddenly asked.

Delphia couldn’t tell if she was grateful, excited, or terrified that he was talking to her again. Maybe all three at once?

“Twelve years,” she replied.

“Oh, wow.” He blinked in surprise. “That’s longer than I expected.”

She shrugged, picking up her coffee cup and holding it close to her face to feel the warmth radiating off it. “Started working for her right out of high school, so.”

“Y’must like it a lot,” he said.

“It’s a job. Pays the bills. Takes me to some exciting places.”

Flag leaned forward, elbows on his knees and a grin on his face. “Like where?”

“We went to Jamaica last year for some conference or other. Week long too.”

“Get to spend any of it on the beach?”

Delphia felt her neck heat up in embarrassment. “We were given...Free time to see the sights each day, yeah.”

“Nah, nah, nah — you’re holding back somethin’. What? What’d you do?” He grinned and Delphia rolled her eyes.

“I…” She tried to lie. She really did. But she found it was impossible looking into those hazel tinted eyes. “I took historic tours of Port Royal and Nassau, okay? Learned about pirates. Because I’m a huge fucking nerd.”

Delphia slapped her hand over her mouth with a gafaw at her language slip. She always tried to remain strictly professional with her tongue in the office. But sometimes….sometimes that mouth like a sailor could not be contained. Flag only stared at her with an open mouthed smile and a laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Holy shit, Holman,” he chuckled, “Didn’t think you fuckin’ had it in ya.”

That night, when Delphia went home, she could not get her mind off of Colonel Rick Flag no matter what she did. As she made her dinner her every thought was on him, so much that she overcooked her pasta. As she watched some mindless TV her mind buzzed with the fact that he brought her coffee. And even as she laid down and tried to go to sleep that night, she was restless.

She tossed and turned but her brain just wouldn’t shut off. All she could think about was that boyish smile. Those gentle hazel eyes. The way that shirt stretched over his biceps. How easy it was to talk to him once she got past the awkwardness. How kind he had been. How she was going to get to see him everyday now that he was officially signed on with Task Force X.

What would it be like to run into him in the halls? Would she get the opportunity to bring him coffee and remember how he liked it? Would she get paired up with him for projects Waller wanted finished? Would their hands accidentally brush as they passed off paperwork?

Delphia groaned as she shoved a spare pillow over her face. She needed to get to sleep. Waller wanted her in the office bright and early in the morning to put together a bunch of new hire packets for the office staff. But it seemed that her brain wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew, definitely, that her crush on Colonel Flag would end up going anywhere at all.

A terrible habit she formed in middle school and always had the intention of quitting. But every single time she even felt the tiniest spark with someone, she always had to see. She always had to make sure that he was the one, that she was meant to end up with him. So she would quietly slip into the future, all her thoughts trained on her crush and their love life, and she would see who they end up with. Every single time it wasn’t her. And every single time she got her heart broken and swore she would never do it again.

But then the cycle would repeat itself, and she couldn’t stop herself from just taking a quick peek.

“Ugh, fine,” she hissed into the darkness.

Smoothing out her comforter, it didn’t take much concentration for all of her thoughts to be on the Colonel. Then suddenly her vision was overcome with white, and she was looking at an entirely different place entirely. Far in the future.

Most of Delphia’s visions were solid, realistic. Like she was standing right in the moment, observing everything that happened. But that was only if the variables were set in stone, if there were guarantees, if a full plan was laid. And apparently, Colonel Flag’s love life, or maybe his life in general, was too vague. There were too many variables at play, his timeline branched off in too many directions for her to see which one was the true path. So what she saw before her was only a haze, a transparent, glimmering shadow of a future that may or may not happen.

She stood in the foyer of a big house with nice wood floors, a grand staircase to her right. After a moment, Colonel Flag walked through the front door. He was older, that was certain. But he was still wearing that same dirty baseball hat and worn leather boots. He was thicker now, and he had shaved that ridiculous facial hair. But he looked tired, worn down from a day of doing who knows what. But his face instantly perked up just as the sound of small, pattering feet reached Delphia’s ears.

She looked towards the doorway into one of the other rooms and a small child was running in. Even through the glimmer she could tell that the child had stark white hair and a pair of jean overalls on. He couldn’t have been older than five.

“Daddy!” the child screamed excitedly as the Colonel got down on one knee.

“Hey, big guy!” Flag laughed as his son crashed into his waiting arms.

He lifted the little boy easily, pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead as he got back to his feet.

“Missed you today,” the little boy said.

“Missed you, too.” Flag grinned. “Where’s your mom?”

The child pointed from whence he came and Flag followed his directions with a smile. Delphia followed curiously. She still didn’t have the answers she was looking for. Was she the one he was looking for in this big house? Was she the mother of that child?

Her hopeful heart instantly deflated when she walked into what appeared to be the kitchen. Flag still had his son perched on his hip, and in the other arm he held against his chest a woman with bright white hair. She didn’t see her face, but it was enough to know that it definitely wasn’t her.

Disappointed, Delphia blinked and she was back in her darkened bedroom.

He wasn't the one. She wasn't the one for him. So to spare her feelings, she decided to avoid him all together.

Colonel Rick Flag made it very difficult to avoid him, though. He was kind and friendly and anytime he had to come have a word with Waller he always made sure to stop at her desk to chat for a few minutes. Tried as she might to beat back her growing feelings for the Colonel with a stick, it seemed useless. It seemed she was destined to swoon over the man like a teenager.

And as the weeks went on and her bottled up misery continued, she came to a conclusion. Even if she wasn’t meant to be with him, even if that woman with white hair was going to come along eventually — it was better to spend at least a little time with Colonel Flag than none at all. And it wasn’t like she was going to make a move on him. Whatever happened, happened, and she wasn’t going to stop it.

No, she wouldn’t stop it at all.

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments just let me know!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny @oopsiedoopsie23 @nerdgrrlramblings @ocfairygodmother @reysorigins @hawsx3

#rick flag #colonel rick flag #rick flag x oc #rick flag imagine #rick flag x delphia holman #suicide squad #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad x oc #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag fanfic #rick flag fic #suicide squad fanfiction #suicide squad fanfic #suicide squad fic #joel kinnaman #joel kinnaman imagine #dceu oc #dceu imagine #dceu fanfiction #dceu fanfic #dceu fic #ocappreciation

[littlemissnoname13]

love ur blog, btw this is a request for draco malfoy: can you make it where the reader loves coffee and draco also apparently is in love with it and they meet at some coffee shop and yeah u can continue how u like it

Hi lovely! Thank you for your kind words and your request. 💕

As a caffeine dependent human, writing this was so much fun. I hope you like it. X

Same Ideas. Varying Interpretations (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Word count: 1517

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: None just excessive mentions of coffee and soft!Draco pining for the reader.

Draco Malfoy was never really a morning person. 

The only reason he even dragged himself out of bed was the want for a decent sized cup of coffee from the coffee shop down the street. 

Even though he was not a morning person, he was definitely becoming a weekend person. 

Weekends meant he could wake up late, maybe prolong his otherwise quick shower.

To top it all off, that he wouldn’t even have to order his coffee to go! 

In fact, he would get to sit on one of those infuriating little tables in the far corner that never stopped wobbling and look at you and whatever it is that you were drinking that day. 

Sometimes you’d have a tall glass filled to the brim with iced coffee next to you. On other times, you’d be hugging a mug and absently licking whipped cream off your lips—making his heart palpitate in the process.

But within the unpredictability of your coffee order and the color of the dresses that you wore, two things remained constant. 

One, you seemed to really like the buttered croissant they served.

Two, he loved watching you nibble into it as you flipped through the pages of your book. 

And so, on a strangely sunny Saturday morning, Draco decided to stop beating around the bush and he finally managed to ask the lady at the counter to have a croissant delivered to your table. 

“Oh. I didn’t order any today.” You said politely and shook your head when you saw the pastry. 

“Courtesy of one of our regular patrons.” The server smiled before leaving you with a golden brown and perfectly curvaceous croissant. 

Draco observed the whole interaction from afar—taking long slow sips of coffee as dark as his black suit. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to know it was him. He just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about a stranger buying you a croissant. 

~~~~~~

The very next Saturday, Draco took his regular seat at the coffee shop and opened the daily prophet in front of him.

Your table remained empty as he scanned the paper—pretending like your absence didn’t bother him. 

I drove her away. 

That’s the only explanation. 

Why is she not here? 

Draco was so busy hyperventilating all alone that he almost didn’t notice a server bring what looked like a buttered croissant on his table. 

He put his paper down for a second and arched a brow at the server who simply shrugged as he nodded towards the door. 

You were just exiting the coffee shop with a to-go cup in your hands—clad in a lilac colored blouse that somehow made the freshly cut tulips wrapped in paper you had tucked under your arms look even more vibrant. 

When Draco took notice of the to-go cup in your hand, he quickly paid for his coffee and followed you out. 

“How did you know it was me?” He called out making him instantly regret this decision when you whirled around to face him. 

To his utter surprise, you flashed him a small smile. 

“Black coffee, no sugar or creamer.” You said. “Every weekend, I see you drink the same hot beverage mr. regular patron. It probably tastes horrible by the way.” 

“It absolutely does not.” He retorted as you both started to walk down the cobblestone. “I don’t understand why you’d choose to ruin a drink that is perfectly good on its own.” 

And both of you kept talking and talking as he walked you all the way home. 

“It was nice talking to you.” You said as you stepped onto your front porch step. 

“Likewise y/n.” Draco said as he put his hands in his pockets and started to turn away. 

Throughout your walk, he’d wanted to ask if you’d like to have dinner with him sometime but the words refused to leave his lips partly due to his fear of rejection. 

Just as he was walking away, he heard you call out his name. 

“Draco. Wait.” 

“Yes?” 

“Dinner tomorrow? Seven-ish? No pressure.” You asked.

Draco didn’t know what you meant by seven-ish—if it meant after or before seven. What he did know was that he was going to be there early anyway. 

Just to be sure. 

~~~~~~~~~

When Draco saw you in your deep red dress that night, he quickly decided then and there that he’d never look at the color the same way ever again. 

He was sure that he’d forever associate the color with your stunning little number for the rest of eternity. 

And to his absolute and utter delight, the date went perfectly well. 

It was strange how things flowed so naturally with you that it felt almost effortless. 

So much so that both of you were the very last people that left the restaurant that night. And being the caffeine addicts that you both were, both of you found yourselfs craving a cup of coffee. 

“I don’t think there’s anything open at this ungodly hour of the night Draco.” You said sadly as you walked with him down the sidewalk—moonlight casting terribly tall shadows of the two of you on the ground. 

The tip of your fingers lightly brushed with his as if on accident and he seized this opportunity to intertwine your fingers with his. 

He fought the smile tugging at his lips when he felt you hold his hands tight before finally saying. 

“I know a place.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

You let him take the lead as you both ran along the sidewalks giggling like children towards wherever he was taking you. 

From one of the houses along the way, an elderly man poked his head outside of his window and yelled at you both for causing a ruckus at two-thirty in the morning. 

“Shhhhhhh…” Draco whispered, suppressing a chuckle as you both hid inside an alcove as placed his hands over your mouth. 

His face was so terribly close to yours and you felt tingly all over your body when you looked into his shiny grey eyes. 

He had the kind of eyes that could convince you to do just about anything with one simple look. 

Terrifying yet so so comforting. 

When the threat of being yelled at by the old man cleared, he led you all the way to a small 24/7 diner situated at the far end of the road. 

The lady at the counter gave him a smile like he visited the place all the time. 

“Are you a regular patron over here too?” You asked out of curiosity the lady poured you both a cup of coffee.

“I come here when I can’t sleep.” He said, taking a gulp of his coffee. “No one really comes here at this time of the night and the coffee isn’t half bad.” 

You nodded and took a big sip from your own cup observing how his skin glowed a shade of bright pink from the neon sign on the window. 

It felt good with him. 

Even the black coffee that you were drinking felt nice and soothing. 

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any better, a slow song started to play on the radio at the diner. It didn’t even bother you that the song kept cutting off due to the static. 

“This is such a lovely song.” You told him, making a crooked smile form on his face. 

“Care to dance with me then?” He asked. 

“Here? ” 

“Yes here.” 

You opened your mouth to object but he was already pulling you up—gently swaying you to the music.

The lady at the counter shook her head and went towards the back of the diner leaving you both to it. 

With his arms around your waist and your head resting on his chest, your bodies moved with the music.

From where your head was resting, you could easily hear the wild thumping of his heart and you wondered if he could hear yours. 

You slowly tilted your head upwards to look at him and he lovingly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears. 

As his face drew in closer and closer, you closed your eyes and met him halfway.

His lips tasted like caffeine. 

They woke you up, gave you a rush and had something addictive about them. 

He kissed you so tenderly—his lips moving slowly in synchronisation with yours. 

But somewhere between those soft kisses, you could tell that he was holding back something more ravenous and intense. 

It only made you want to keep kissing him.

That night and the nights to come.

 ~~~~~~some months later~~~~~~~

“Not this again.” Your boyfriend shook his head as he took a sip from his mug before taking a bite from YOUR croissant.

“Well forgive me for wanting my coffee to actually taste good.” You rolled your eyes at him as you stirred your straw of your iced coffee. You’d asked for two pumps of vanilla syrup to be added to your drink and Draco gagged at the idea. 

The way you both took your respective coffees was a perfect way to describe your relationship. 

Same ideas. 

Varying interpretations. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @dracomalfoyisindahouse @dracomalfoys-wh0re @maybesandohnos @justfangirlthingies @desiredmalfoy @dlmmdl @trainintersection @fa-me @dracoswhore007 @paulina1998 @wh0re4blaise @marrymetheonott @quacksonsssandtea @letoof @rvaldez7569 @loloo22 @emma67 @berriemalfoy @thegaudess @itchywitch33 @louweasleymalfoy @lunar0se10 @savagelysarcasticslytherin @fleursbabe @teawineaddict @thebitchybeatle @malfoyxxdraco23 @fantasyfairysworld @trashyvicks @h0ggyw0ggyh0gwarts @l0vely-lupin @linasylveon @amwitherspoon

Love,

V

#harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco fluff #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fluff

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part Seven

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: I hope y’all had a good week! 💕 Warnings: Oh hey look, more fluff! With a pinch of self-doubt! SO Sorry about that. Summary: You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning.

Jill had been up with the sun, preparing food for the barbecue that afternoon. You’d made it a point to set your alarm to get up early and offer your help. But it had taken you a little while to get out of bed.

You and Marcus had been sleeping in bed together for the past three nights. You had been a little nervous at the beginning, sure - you hadn’t shared a bed with anyone for a while. But Marcus was the perfect gentleman when he was awake. The day you'd made the favor bags, you'd awoken to Marcus’ body had been curled around yours. His hand was resting lightly atop your hip, a touch that had been easy for you to draw yourself out from under. But this morning… This morning, you’d woken up cuddled up against Marcus. You were curled up against his side, your arm stretched across his middle. When you’d glanced up, you’d found Marcus just coming up from sleep, himself. Rather than moving away, you’d found yourself frozen, like he’d suddenly spot you if you moved. Marcus had just glanced down at you, murmured a soft, "Good morning,", and smiled sleepily, asking if you’d slept well as his hand had smoothed over your arm.  You’d relaxed a little, nodded, and rested your chin on Marcus’ chest. His sleepy smile had widened, his fingers trailing aimlessly over the back of your hand as the two of you had chatted about the last couple of days. You’d already shut off your alarm, knew that you should get up, and help Jill - that was why you’d set the alarm in the first place. But you were so comfortable, and Marcus seemed more than happy to let lay there and soak up some of his warmth. You did finally manage to pull yourself out of his arms, shower and dress. You’d settled on the edge of the bed to pull on your socks and house slippers. Marcus had cuddled up to you, still sleep-ruffled as he toyed with a loose strong on your shirt and chatted with you. It was another ten minutes before you’d managed to get yourself downstairs. -- Marcus' easy touches and your murmured conversations weighed heavily on your mind all morning. You'd told Marcus at the start of this to treat it like an undercover assignment, and maybe he really was going the distance— treating this like an operation, putting himself into the mindset first thing in the morning. And if he was— well, you couldn't fault him for it. It had been your advice, after all.

When Marcus had made it into the kitchen, finally, he found you at the counter with Jill and Marnie. After you’d offered your services, you’d been given your pick of the spare aprons and put to work chopping potatoes for the potato salad. Marcus crowded up behind you, resting his hands on your hips and his forehead on your shoulder as he’d waited for the coffee to brew (between yourself and Marnie, you’d wiped out the previous pot before he could make it downstairs). “You excited for later?” He asked softly as he shifted to rest his chin where his forehead had been. “Mhm,” You hummed softly, eyes set on your work, fingers working steadily at your task, “Are you?” “Sure,” He conceded, “Be nice to see some old friends...Family…” You glanced at Marcus, holding a chopped piece of cooked potato up to his lips. He hummed, sucking it from between your fingertips. Your skin prickled with heat as his lips brushed against the pad of your finger. “Thanks,” He mumbled around the tiny morsel before he’d turned his head, nuzzling into your neck. You’d felt the looks that Jill and Marnie were giving you, heard one of them murmur, “Adorable”. Marcus’ hands squeezed lightly at your hips, like a silent, ‘They’re buying it’. You tipped your head to the side, lightly resting your head against his for a few seconds before straightening up again. They were buying it. And if you weren’t careful, you were going to start buying it, too. 

--

It was times like this that you could tell Marcus was glad that you’d made it a point to practice your story as much as you had. Maybe he was starting to treat it like the two of you were undercover, but there was still that half-second panicked squeezing of your hand before he answered a question about your ‘relationship’. The two of you had gotten pretty good at this, though, and by the time the barbecue was in full swing, you were casually draped over one another, finishing the other’s sentences, leaning into endearments like, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ and, once, from you, ‘darling’. And maybe you should’ve felt a little bad, if only for the way some of Marcus’ family was cooing over the two of you, teasing him for being so lovestruck, but with Marcus, it was just so goddamn...easy. Everything felt so easy. When he tucked you under his arm, you felt like you fit perfectly into his side; you didn’t worry about the fact that you knew so few people. You didn’t stress yourself out about remembering names because, after the wedding, you were probably never going to see them again. “You doin’ okay?” You asked lightly, rubbing Marcus’ back gently as one of the members of his old band stepped away from you to get some food. “Yeah,” He nodded, “I uh… I think I’m alright. Are you?” “You haven’t cut off the circulation in my hand yet, so, yeah,” You teased, “I’m good.” Marcus chuckled, leaning in and brushing a kiss to your temple before he turned, looking around. You felt him go tense, and you frowned. “What is it?” “Uh… Spotted someone.” “Ex-wife?” “No. The...The woman Marnie was going to set me up with.” “Ah,” You glanced around Marcus, spotting the woman coming toward you. She was just a bit shorter than you, with bright red hair curled expertly around a diamond shaped face. Her eyes were slate grey— and focused in on the two of you.  “She’s hot,” You muttered. “Not that it’s a contest, but you’re hotter.” “Really taking this lie for a ride, huh?” Marcus’ brow furrowed, frowning down at you. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, you heard, “Marcus! I thought you might be around here somewhere.” And her voice was so shrill. You gave Marcus a teasing look before he turned to face her. “Couldn’t miss my sister’s wedding,” He gave an awkward little laugh, the likes of which you’d never heard. It looked like the woman wanted to step in for a hug, but her eyes darted to you before she could get too close. You gave her a bright smile as awkward silence persisted between the two of them. “Oh-- Sorry,” Marcus laughed as he introduced you, “Sweetheart, this is Kimberly. She used to live right down the block, and we went to Quantico together.” “Aw, neat, so you’re in law enforcement too, huh?” You smiled, draping your arm around Marcus’ middle once you’d let go of Kimberly’s hand. Her eyes darted to your arm, then up to Marcus’ face. You glanced between the two of them before straightening up. “You know what? Why don’t I let the two of you catch up,” You looked up at Marcus, “I will go see if your mom needs any help-- You need a drink or anything?” “N-No,” Marcus shook his head a little bit, but you could see the slight panic in his eyes. “Okay!” You could see the smile on Kimberly’s smile - a presumption that she’d managed to scare you off. So you turned, cupping Marcus’ neck and drawing him down for a kiss. You could feel him smiling against your lips, and you ran your thumb along his jaw as you sucked his lower lip between yours. You grinned at the sound of a soft, awed moan that left him, feeling his hand curl in the fabric of your dress before you leaned away. Marcus looked a little dazed, his grasp on you showing no sign of loosening, even as you reached up to lightly smear away some of your lipstick that had transferred onto his lips.   “Not quite your shade, babe,” You teased, winking at him. You lowered your hand, patting his chest lightly and turning back to an infuriated Kimberly and offering her a bright smile. “You two have fun!” -- Jill didn’t need any help, so you grabbed a beer for yourself and stepped over to a quiet corner of the porch and taken your phone out. You set the beer on the wide porch rail as you opened an email to answer. “That has to be the shortest conversation I’ve ever had with her,” You heard behind you. You smiled, finishing the email you were typing before glancing back at Marcus. “So? How’d it go?” You asked, turning to face Marcus and leaning back against the porch railing. “Well,” Marcus said thoughtfully, placing his hand on either side of you as he crowded up against you, “We made about two minutes of incredibly awkward small talk, she asked if I’d known you long and then left to get some potato salad.” “Damn,” You sighed, shaking your head a little bit, “I am...Good.” “You might actually be the best,” Marcus conceded. You smiled as he smoothed a hand over your side. “And that was… Some kiss,” He added softly. You smiled, licking your lips.  “Yeah, you seemed to like it. I mean, it was vindicating, what with my being so out of practice.” “If that’s you out of practice, I can’t imagine how proficient you are when you’re in top form.” You smiled a bit, drawing your lower lip between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as Marcus’ eyes lowered to your mouth. He raised his hand, cupping your cheek and using his thumb to pull your lip from between your teeth. Your stomach fluttered as you felt Marcus' leg slide between yours, your chests brushing together. You’d noticed that, unlike other aspects of the lie, Marcus’ smiles and touches and kisses felt different. When Marcus leaned in for a kiss, there was no squeezing of your hand, no half-second of hesitation, no panic. When Marcus kissed you, it always felt so damnably real. He slipped his lips across yours before sucking your lower lip between his, as you had to him before. You sighed softly, raising your arm and looping it around Marcus’ neck and sliding your hand over the nape. You smiled as Marcus pressed you against the porch railing, arm curling around your upper back. You kept your eyes closed as the kiss broke. Marcus didn’t stray, just brushed another kiss against your lips, then another before he rested his forehead against yours. “Any better?” You teased softly. “Better and better,” He murmured, “Every time.” You lowered your head, lightly butting your head against Marcus’ jaw as sheepishness twisted your lips into a smile. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long ; @spideysimpossiblegirl ; @blueeyesatnight ; @elen-aranel ; @yespolkadotkitty ; @artsymaddie​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​ ; @lunaserenade​ ; @winniedaboo​  ; @empress-palpat1ne​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20​ ; @leonieb​ ; @the-feckless-wonder​ ; @lou-la-lou​ ; @captain-jebi​ ; @supernaturalgirl​ ; @naturenebula21​ ; @evelynseventyr​ ; @giselatropicana​ ; @heatherbel​ ; @marydjarin​ ; @annathewitch​ ; @absurdthirst​ ; @hnt-escape ; @writingletterstothefire​ ; @misswriter​ ; @bison-writes​ ; @xx-small-town-witch-xx​ ; @ajeff855​ ; @hellovanessax

#THAT GIF #it's about the hands #The Long Con #marcus pike imagine #Marcus Pike x Reader #Marcus Pike x You #Marcus Pike/Reader #Marcus Pike/You #Marcus Pike fic

[spxllcxstxr]

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders x reader

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

#rock n roll people in a disco world #Paul Diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #street kings #street kings fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[ssatoritendou]

Old Spice, Breakfast, & Memory Lane

Pairing: Itadori/reader

Yuuji Itadori

+ summary: Yuuji takes notice that you slept in his sweatshirt. In which leads into a conversation about your future, and talking about your past as well.

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff

Warning: hornee Yuuji

“___, you won’t believe what this cursed- Shit you are sleep,” Yuuji said putting up his hands feeling guilty. He switched to whispering. “Sorry, Babe.” He placed his hand on your head gracefully stroking your hair.

“She looks delicious to eat,” Sukuna said mouth appear on Yuuji’s palm licking the hair under his hand.

Yuuji slaps his hand to his face. “I thought I told you to never do that to her.” He growled.

“Too bad though she smells like you.”

“Just ignoring me fine. What do you mean she smells like me? She always smells fresh like a clean spring day, refreshing.” Yuuji smiled.

“Maybe because she is wearing that gross yellow sweatshirt of yours and smells like your old spice. I have to live with it every day for the rest of my life.”

Yuuji stopped listening to the demon living inside of him and looked at his beloved girlfriend wearing his yellow sweatshirt, that desperately needed to be washed.

He smirked. He got up from crouching and took off his uniform. Slipping into bed behind you wrapping his arms lightly.

You wiggled up against him. He groaned when you did that but he suppressed that thought letting his chin rest on your head.

“No talking for the rest of the night you. She needs her beauty rest.”

“You can say that again.”

As much as Yuuji wanted to fight Sukuna for even muttering another word, he didn’t want to go wake his sleeping angel.

There were only four things that woke up Yuuji. 1) the bright sunlight pouring into his room when he forgot to roll his shades down. 2) Nobara when they need to go on a mission. 3) a wet dream. 4) the smell of food being prepared.

This morning it was the smell of breakfast. He could smell the eggs and sausage being cooked on the small hot plate. He sat upon his bed, fixing his pillows. He found himself staring at you in all your glory still wearing his sweatshirt. He let his eyes stop at your ass and his head fall to the side as he leered your round cheeks peeking out of the grey sweat-shorts.

“Morning Yuuji.” You said without turning around.

“Morn’ baby.” He said in a gravelly morning voice.

You turned your head slightly to say, “breakfast will be ready in minutes.”

“Thank you, baby.” He chuckled as he putting arms behind his head. “Do we have any syrup?”

“Yuuji you think I don’t already have it out for you?” You said to point your spatula towards his bed tray with a bottle of syrup already on it and a small glass of apple juice.

Now you were putting the food on his plate. Turning around with the tray in hand which was set up beautifully, his silverware wrapped in a napkin, his apple juice had a straw in it, a bottle of maple syrup to drown his eggs and sausages in, and a small vase with some wildflowers that grew on the jujutsu tech property.

You did this every time he came back from a long mission.

It was your way of telling him you love him, happy that he was safe and thankful for him.

“Thank you, angel.” He said picking up your hand and kissing it.

“How was the mission?” You asked.

“It was fine. The cursed spirit was weird looking. It was yellow, this was the first yellow cursed spirit I have seen. It looked like a Picasso painting."

You nodded understanding his description. You have only seen them briefly in high intense situations but you don't see them as frequently as your friends.

"It is not like I look forward to them. We are just doing a job and trying to find the fingers as well.”

He started to shove more food into his mouth syrup dripped down onto his chest. “You want to clean this up?” He asked in a flirty tone.

You only rolled your eyes picking up the napkin wiping his chest.

“Worth a shot right?”

“You know I love when you are overly flirty.”

He laughed. “I love it when you wear my clothes.”

“Oh, you noticed?”

"Of course I noticed, I notice everything about you." He said playing with your fingers resting on his leg.

“You even smell like the rat. That god awful old spice body wash and body deodorant.” Sukuna chided into the conversation.

“Stay out of this Sukuna.” You said picking up a sausage sticking it in the demon’s mouth. The demon willing took the sausage and chewed on it.

“You looked so cute last night,” Yuuji said. “I wanted to wake you up and tell you how pretty you look.”

He put his hand on your cheek as you rested against it. “I just can’t see myself ever living without you.” You said.

“Hey don’t think that way. I’m always going to be here. I need you to know that.”

“Yuuji…”

“___ baby, if I weren’t a jujutsu student we would’ve never met.”

That was true. You were Mei Mei’s niece. No clue how it was possible but your parents were both sorcerers and passed away at young age doing their job. Mei Mei became your parent. She never stayed in one place because of her job. You never developed curse energy. Mei Mei was thankful for that. Jujutsu Tech offered you, board. In return, you helped around the grounds.

You remembered the day you met Yuuji.

He and Fushiguro were hanging out by the open concrete archways. He had been sipping an apple juice pouch overly petting Fushiguro’s demon dog. You had been tending to the garden when the carton of apple juice had landed into the bush. You picked up the pouch and stomped over into their direction.

“New blood?” You asked Fushiguro.

“____ this is Yuuji Itadori. Sukuna’s vessel.”

“Yeah, idiot Satoru mentioned it in passing. He never gives the full explanation.” You said grunting.

Itadori was sitting there starring at you during a brief conversation with Fushiguro, finally speaking up when there was a small silence. “That is the most I have ever heard him talk.”

You laughed a little bit. You smiled turning towards him, “Itadori is it?” He nodded. “Keep your trash in the trash bin or live to regret it.” You walked away.

“Who is she?” He asked Fushiguro.

“Thats ____, ___. She is a sorcerer's niece. Her parents were sorcerers. She was raised here for the most part. I’ve known her for a long time. She doesn’t have cursed energy she is normal. But Gojo did teach her how to fight. Be afraid.”

It wasn’t long after that he “passed away” but you were cleaning some of the rooms and you heard a movie playing and walked in and saw Itadori sitting there sipping on his 4 can of soda holding a stuffed bear by its head.

“Itadori? How? I thought—you should be dead.”

“Trust me I don’t understand it either. But no one can know. A small number of people know.”

“So I can’t tell anyone?”

“Exactly.” He said with a thumbs up. And then the stuffed bear knocked him in the face.

You laughed so hard that your insides started to hurt.

Itadori pulled the stuffed bear off of him and got it to calm it down to sleep. He started staring at you again. He started laughing too.

“You want to watch movies with me?” He asked.

“Sure.” You said sitting down and eating some of the chips and drink what was left of Itadori’s soda. “Sorry about that. I haven’t really eaten anything today.”

‘Inadvertent kiss.’ He thought for a minute looking at you in the eyes making an awkward silence in the air. “Uh..yeah it’s fine. What do you want to watch?” He gestured to a stack of DVDs.

You scanned the titles. “Let’s watch Scream.” You said holding up the case.

“Really a horror movie?”

“You fight curse spirits every other day. This is nothing.”

“I just don’t want you getting scared.”

“Pfft.” You said.

You hated to admit it but Itadori was right you did get scared. Only when it was gross. You shoved your face into a pillow.

“You can come over here if you want.” He said looking away from the tv and your direction in general. You moved over closer to him. Over time while watching the movie he put his arm across the back of the couch slightly touching your shoulders.

When the credits started rolling you said. “Itadori if you wanted to ask me out or kiss me you could have.”

“What?”

“Never mind then.” You sighed.

“No no no…I do want to ask you out just didn’t think you would say yes.”

“You don’t think highly of yourself?”

“…I don’t usually have any luck with the ladies.” He said rubbing his head.

“Consider this lady impressed by you.” You giggled.

Itadori leaned down and kissed your cheek.

“You missed.”

“What do you mean I missed?”

You turned your head to him and straddled his lap. “I mean you missed.” You kissed him on the lips.

He was a little stunned by your boldness. He wasn’t sure what to do at first. But soon he melted into the kiss soon putting his hands on your waist.

You pulled away.

“So are you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course dumbo.”

Now you were here laying in his bed holding onto him to dear life. Tears were rolling down your cheeks and you were sniffling.

“Angel it will be ok. I can handle myself. You have seen me fight.”

“Yuuji I know that. It’s just the ending…”

“That’s a long time away.”

“Yuuji it’s going to happen. I don’t know what I will do if it happens. Yuuji if you fully turn into Sukuna I might try and save you from our friends.”

“___…”

“Yuuji it’s you. If there was a chance I could save you….” You couldn’t even finish the thought your face started to crumble.

He picked up your face. “___ I understand if it were you I would fight off everyone any way I can.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I promise everything will be ok. We will be ok.”

You nodded your head in his hands.

“Come on little lady let’s watch a movie together.” He pulled you closer to him.

“Scream?” You asked.

“Oh yeah definitely Scream.” He chuckled. Putting the movie on. “I love you ___.”

“I love you Yuuji.” You pecked his lips. He squeezed you in returned.

#itadori yuuji #yuuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuuji itadori #yuuji jjk #yuuji jujutsu kaisen #itadori jjk #itadori jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen yuuji #yuuji Itadori jujutsu Kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk yuuji itadori #jjk fluff #itadori fluff

[petersnya]

SOMETIMES PT.3

PETER PARKER X FEM!READER

Warnings: Angst (alotttt. I’m sorry lol)

Word count:1873

[A/N] So that there’s no smut in this part but it is SO worth it (trust me I hate when there’s no smut but this part is so SO GOOD)this part kinda like, BROKE my heart… ok it DID break my heart…  SEND ME YOUR FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST FOR EACH CHAPTER! ENJOY… (send a request for anything you want me to write or if you have any ideas)

-J.T.S xxx

PART ONE  PART TWO

Ever since the incident at the drive-in theater, Y/N has been avoiding Peter. Whenever MJ, Peter, and Ned would walk out of school together, Y/N wouldn’t be leaning out of the window of the car smiling and waving at them. She would have the window rolled up and looked either straight out the ahead or down at her phone. 

Peter told Ned about the whole situation but didn’t tell MJ. He knew she would kill him because Y/N is her cousin and their like sister towards each other. 

“Peter I don’t know what your gonna do, but you gotta do it fast cause sooner or later MJs’ gonna find out and your not only gonna lose the girl you have a major crush on but also your best friend,” Ned pointed out to Peter. Peter didn’t want to admit it but he was right. He had to come out with the truth to Y/N one way or another. He had to tell her that he does like her and that he lied about the stark internship. 

He had to tell her that he was Spider-Man.

“Yeah Ned, I guess you right.”

“I am right Pete. Now go get your Princess Leia,” Ned teased as the bell rang, signaling that it was time for them to leave. The two boys made their way out of the building, talking about their project they still had yet to finish. They didn’t see MJ around like how she usually is until they heard familiar voices coming from behind them. 

“Here’s your schedule and your and the supply list. You can also sign up for clubs if you would like,” an administrator said.

“I’ll think about it. That you so much.” there it was. That voice. It was Y/N talking to the administrator. But I thought she was homeschooled? Peter thought to himself, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. It’s not like it was a bad thing that Y/N was coming to Midtown, but MJ told him that she really wasn’t the type to go to school. She hated big crowds of people and was never really good at making friends. 

“Ok well, I can’t wait to have you as a new student at Midtown!”

Peter and Ned looked at each other with wide eyes then turned fully around to see who was behind them, even though they already knew by the voices. “Peter…”

“Ned,” he said to the tan boy next to him. They were both in shock by what they just heard.

“Y/N’s going to Midtown?” they said in sync. 

“Yes, she is,” MJ added as she and her cousin walked over to stunned boys. Ned sent them both a smile and Y/N sent him one back with a small ‘hi’. Peter couldn’t help but notice that something was different about her. 

She’s not wearing her glasses.

The four of them walked out of the building together, telling Y/N about all the teachers and classes at the high school. She also explained that she was tired of being homeschooled and wanted to have something to do outside of her one personal bubble. This new information didn’t make much sense to Peter. She seemed so happy when she was at home from what he could see. 

Ned said goodbye to the two girls before heading over to the bus, beckoning Peter over. 

“Later MJ, b-bye Y/N.” 

“See ya, Parker,” MJ responded before getting into the passenger side of the car, kicking her feet up on the dashboard. 

“Hey! Feet off the dashboard dude,” Y/N yelled at her cousin. MJ mocked her expression before chuckling lightly- keeping her feet on the dashboard. “Goodbye, Peter,” she said coldly, turning back to Peter before getting into the driver’s side, pulling away from the curb before speeding off down the road.

“I miss you.” 

The brown-eyed boy whispered to no one, but it was meant for Y/N. He truly did miss her. Even if they had met only one week ago, that same surge of energy raced through him. Peter knew this wasn’t an ordinary crush- he didn’t know what it was. But he knew he couldn’t afford to lose it. He felt like he was falling apart without her. He didn’t intend to be that rude to her that night at the drive-in, it just happening and he regretted it the second he did it once he saw that heartbroken-hearted look on her face. But instead of apologizing to her, he just sat there.

“Sup penis Parker!” a kid named flash yelled and he sped by him, causing Peter’s brown curly hair to fall into his face. Great. 

“Hey kid, I ain’t got all day. Ya getting on or not?” the bus driver said to Peter. He slumped his shoulders and lugged himself into the bus, taking his seat next to his best friend. “It’s gonna be ok man,” Ned told Peter, trying to comfort him. 

I hope so.

///

Peter was late-night patrolling as he usually did and spotted MJ’s place. Not being able to restrain himself he swung over to the building next to it. He noticed that that same room light was on that was on the first time he stopped by MJ’s on a night patrol as Spider-Man. 

Looking through the window to the lit room, he saw Y/N. she was sitting on her bed, her legs crisscrossed as she wrote something down in a thick, brown, leather-backed journal. 

He smiled at the sight before him. Y/N was wearing the glasses. She pushed them up on her face with her knuckle and continued them to write. Someone must have called her name because she got up from her position on the bed and left her room. 

Curiosity took over Peter as he swung over the ledge of the fire escape that was right at Y/N’s window. He peered into it and used his mask to focus closely on the open journal sitting on the bed. It was a letter:

Dear dad, 

I can’t do this anymore. I miss you so much. You were what made me smile every day, and you still do. But I thought I had found someone who could make me smile even more. He’s beautiful dad. He has amazingly curly brown hair and the brightest brown eyes I had ever seen. His smile made me smile just like how your smile made me smile. He was the one that convinced me to wear my glasses… your glasses. Not MJ. not mom. He did. I thought he liked me as much as I liked him, but I was wrong. And now I can’t stop thinking about what you told me: some people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes. I think he was the one dad, the wrong one. The one I wasn’t supposed to be with. But why does it hurt so much? I’ve been preparing for this to happen to me ever since you told about false love. But now that it actually happened, I cant take it. I cant let him go. But I-

The letter stopped. And anyone could tell that Y/N had been crying as she wrote it- there were tear strains covering the page. 

Peter felt lightheaded. Tears flooded his chocolate eyes and he unfocused his mask from the page. He slumped down, his back not facing the window. He was hurt. It felt like everything in the world had stopped, as time had frozen. He couldn’t bear to know the fact that he hurt Y/N so much to the point she thinks it’s her fault. 

He yanked the mask off of his face, his cheeks burning a shade of crimson just like his eyes. Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, gripping it as he grounded out in frustration. 

Letting go he slammed his fist against the brick behind him, yelling out in pain. But not physical pain. He felt like someone just ripped out his heart and stomped on it. 

“Hello?” Peter jumped at the voice coming from inside of Y/N’s room. Nows your change Peter. Just go tell her the truth. That’s what one side of Peter said, the other side was the opposite. You cant tell her now, she’ll just hate you more. You have to wait for the right moment. 

But when was the right moment?

“MJ, did you hear that or am I fucking crazy?” Y/N asked as she exited the room. Peter took this chance to get away without being seen. He made his way but to his shared apartment with Aunt May. Entering his room and sitting on his bed, tears ran down his face as he silently sobbed.

///

“Students, I need your attention,” everyone quieted down their own conversations to hear what was about to be said. “I would like to introduce you to our new student, Y/N,” Peter’s head snapped but to look to the front of the class. His eyes landed on Y/N. he couldn’t help but admire her outfit. She was wearing high-waisted but loose, flared jeans with a grey Slytherin sweatshirt and black converse- ones like MJs. her fingers were covered in rings and she has a small necklace. There was a bag draped over her shoulder and her hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail. She was holding her glasses in her hand, not daring to put them on.

Not in front of all these people. More importantly, in front of Peter. 

Her head hung and she stared at her feet, twisting the ring on her thumb. The teacher told that she could take a seat at an empty chair, and just to her luck, Ned wasn’t at school that day. So she was forced to sit next to Peter. She didn’t want to argue so she took her seat and sat there quietly not daring to even glance at the boy next to her. 

Half an hour went by and Peter noticed Y/N fidgeting next to him. Her hands were shaking, her ears were turning bright red and she shook the table from how much she was bouncing it. She was taking notes but the handwriting was illegible she was consistently squinting at the board, trying to read what was being written. 

“Hey Y/N, are you ok?”

“Fine,” she let out shakily, avoiding eye contact with Peter. He grabbed her hand, causing her to look him in the eye. Y/N’s eyes were red, tears swelling in the corners. 

“We’re going to the bathroom. Now.” 

“No Peter I’m f-fine.”

Peter grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling out of the chair and into his arms, picking up their belonging with his free arm. They snuck out the back door to the classroom he and Ned used to sneak out of. 

Walking through the halls, Y/N’s breath became shallow. “Peter, peter I wanna go home. Please take me home. There are too many people in there. They were all looking at me a-and I didn’t want them to look at me. MJ. Peter where is MJ. I need-” 

“Ssshhh, relax Y/N. I’m gonna take you home,” Peter said, rubbing her back. She nodded her head at him as they walked through the back doors of the school. 

SORRY THAT THIS PART WAS SHORT BUT THE NEXT ONE WILL BE LONG AND I HAVE SOME REALLY GOOD SURPRISE COMING IN THE NEXT PARTS. I LOVE YOU GUYSSSSS

-J.T.S xxx

@love-granger

@moonlightbaby10

@oakiedokie

@hallecarey1

@tomhollandreader

#peter parker #Peter Parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #y/n #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #smut #fluff #angst #mcu #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #spider man #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider man x y/n

[une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir]

The Dragon has Three Heads

"Three heads of the dragon... yes... but the third will not necessarily BE a Targaryen..."

~ GRRM @ at some convention

The conclusion is simple. The heads of the dragon refer to people and while the two are Targaryens, the third might not be one.

We can ignore anything that says this group of things are of different things (for example, I've seen "two Targaryens plus a concept"), as that makes no narrative sense. The key is exactly that last sentence, the third one may not be a Targaryen, which implies the three heads are all people and that two are Targaryens and the third is not quite one. Therefore, these three dragon heads must refer to people associated with dragon, with two of them being Targaryens but the last one not necessarily being one.

The most popular theory is that the two Targaryens are Danerys Targaryen and Jon Snow, with the third being the youngster that claims to be Aegon VI Targaryen and appears first in ADWD. This identification ignores the narrative framework for both Aegon VI Targareyn and Jon Snow.

On one hand, Aegon is often associated with kingly imagery (for example, the chapter he's introduced starts with six chests, the kid himself is introduced as standing at a higher ground than the rest, and ends with a turtle who is said to witness the birth of kings), he's accompanied by a lot associated with his parents such as Jon Connington (his father's hand of the kind) and some dornish / royne people (his mother's land and culture). Another thing to note is that Varys introduces him as the real thing to a dying man.

Moreover, there is at least one "baby switch" story that shadows this one, a prince baby being switched with a nobody, sent away to protect against a Baratheon. In specific, Mance Rayder's son (the wildling "king") being switched with Gilly's son, then sent South for protection against another Baratheon, which is notably a plan concocted by Jon Snow (another of Rhaegar's kids, as if preparing him and the reader to "believe" such a scenario is possible).

On the other hand, Jon Snow's core character revolves around two facts, that he is a bastard and that he loves his Stark family. The reveal that he's not Eddard Stark's bastard but Lyanna Stark's child doesn't erase the latter, as he's a Stark through his mother. Still, the nature of Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship may erase the former. If Jon is illegitimate, that doesn't erase the former, but if he's legitimate somehow (Targaryens are said to take multiple wives), that erases the former and replaces it another. It can go either way.

Moreover, there is at least one "legitimized bastard" story that shadows this one. In specific, Jon Snow is offered to be legitimised both by Stannis Baratheon (something that is a true temptation, as it would give him everything he secretely longed for all his life), but also by Robb's will as it names Jon Snow as his heir over sisters and that's only possible through legitimising him. It's my conviction that "the rule of three" applies, therefore that Jon will reject Robb's will like he rejected Stannis' offer, but will have a third legitimization opportunity and that this time around he'll acept.

To be more specific and in contrast with Aegon, who's introduced with kingly imagery, Jon is introduced with bastardy imagery. Bran introduces him into the narratve as his bastard brother, while Jon's first POV chapter starts with him musing that he's a bastard. While Jon has "kingly" imagery, it doesn't come associated with imagery from his father's side, and seems to be self-contained to the North (for example, the first inside joke is "kings hiding under the snow" or Mormont's crow calling him king while he's at the wall). Jon's hidden parentage comes along with prince imagery instead (for example, the anti-parallel with bastard prince Joffrey). With my conviction explained above, I do believe it will come to Aegon legitimising Jon as his heir until he has kids (a parallel to Robb's will). Most (if not all) foreshadowing falls into place. Aegon VI is king, Jon is the (bastard) prince. An example would be Sansa's "Glory to your betrothed," Ser Arys answered at once. (...) "He is the dragon's heir." which fits with Jon as Aegon's heir.

Combined, this interpreation suggests that the popular theory is actually backwards: Aegon VI is the real thing while Jon Snow is the Blackfyre (bastard Targaryen). This is in accordance to the way the text is presented.

House of Undying

"THe dragon has three heads" is referenced for the first time to Danerys Targaryen in a prophetic inducing Shade of the Evening tripping out at the House of Undying.

The man had her brother's hair, but he was taller, and his eyes were a dark indigo rather than lilac. "Aegon," he said to a woman nursing a newborn babe in a great wooden bed. "What better name for a king?"

"Will you make a song for him?" the woman asked.

"He has a song," the man replied. "He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire." He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany's, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door. "There must be one more," he said, though whether he was speaking to her or the woman in the bed she could not say. "The dragon has three heads." He went to the window seat, picked up a harp, and ran his fingers lightly over its silvery strings. Sweet sadness filled the room as man and wife and babe faded like the morning mist, only the music lingering behind to speed her on her way.

I'll say that whatever the House of Undying shows, may not be reality. Rhaegar wanting to fulfill some prophecy with three kids is not referenced anywhere else, except this moment which is the equivalent of a very bad drug trip. It's worth mentioning though, Ratgar saw a comet in the sky and thought he should impregnate his wife, against medical advice because she who was recovering from giving birth his first child. It could be, but it could not be.

Regardless, what's important to note is what's being prophetized. Much like GRRM's convention remark, Rhaegar identifies the three heads as people. So far so good. However, he also gives us an order: omitted Rhaenys as she was born already, Aegon in mother's lap, Danerys when Rhaegar looks up to "see" her at the door, then finally Jon when he says "there must be one more". On one hand, Rhaenys was murdered and Danerys is in this as well, so the conclusion is that the former "replaced" the latter in the prophecy. On the other hand, if this had been a real memory, than Rhaegar would have two legitimate kids at the time (Rhaenys and Aegon) such saying "there must be one more" suggests a third child (Jon), which goes well with GRRM saying "the third may not be a Targaryen". So in order, we have Aegon, Danerys, Jon.

Danerys later reflects upon what this prophecy means and comes the conclusion that these heads are supposed to be people. This is because the Targaryen coat-of-arms is a dragon with three heads, each head representing three Targaryens.

"The dragon has three heads," she sighed. "Do you know what that means, Jorah?"

"Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black."

"I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons."

"The three heads were Aegon and his sisters."

(...)

"Prince Aegon was Rhaegar's heir by Elia of Dorne," Ser Jorah said. "But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall."

"I remember," Dany said sadly. "They murdered Rhaegar's daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon's sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?"

(...)

"Your Grace," he conceded, "the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here's your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders."

(...)

When Brown Ben left, she lay back on her cushions. "If you were grown," she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag." But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one.

(...)

"No dragon has ever had three heads except on shields and banners," Armen the Acolyte said firmly. "That was a heraldic charge, no more. Furthermore, the Targaryens are all dead."

"Not all," said Alleras. "The Beggar King had a sister."

(...)

"The dragon must have three heads," he wailed, "but I am too old and frail to be one of them. I should be with her, showing her the way, but my body has betrayed me."

The prophecies in ASOIAF are always misunderstood. Danerys is no exception, as she's wrongly identifing people and their motives. One thing is for sure in all these mentions though, the "dragon heads" are meant to be people and one of them is Danerys.

Danerys thinks these three dragons are supposed to mimic the original trio, with herself as Aegon and two men she'll take as lovers as the two sister wives. This is where the misunderstanding is, because it's obvious from the framework that is backwards.

These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped . . . and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei . . . as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

Danerys is a dumb bitch and the text shows us exactly how. The idea of Danerys being betrayed comes together with the other two heads. They're not lovers, they're betrayers. It occurs again in ADWD as she's in the Dothraki Sea, contemplentanting if the "king" betrayed her and a wolf answers in the distance.

The framework fits this foiled scenario. The original trio was a man married to both his sisters, but only he became king (later, only the man could rule according to Targaryen law). In contrast, Danerys is a woman (foil) and both her brothers are dead (foil), whom are replaced with nephews that have a bigger claim than her (foil) and whom will not be involved / married with her (foil).

It's also thematically relevant and poignant for the trios to be foiled. The Targaryen king dynasty started with an alliance between three dragons, it's fitting that it ends with a war between three dragons. It's what they've been threatening all along with the Dance of the Dragons after all.

#anti daenerys targaryen #queue

[13uswntimagines]

Complicated (Emily Sonnett x Reader)

Request: maybe the reader is really uptight and cold all the time until she meets emily and they somehow click + maybe the teams reaction?

Author’s Note: Hey dudes, so i know that this is a bit of a stretch for the prompt, but i just couldn’t seem to get this idea out of my head. I really hope Y’all like it! Let me know what You think!

You were… complicated. A stoic person with seemingly no heart. Someone with a massive aversion to touch and who most of the team had never seen smile. Or at least that’s how you were introduced to every newcomer to the team. They were warned to stay away from you, to avoid you in any of their shenanigans or face the consequences. 

You were never overtly rude- just detached, uninterested, completely and totally unapproachable by all accounts. Your aggression on the field was bar none and some of the vets had learned that pushing you led to the same result off the field. 

It was safe to say that most of the team was terrified of you and your stoic exterior, so they let you be. Well, except for a particular blond defender that you knew. You would never admit it out loud, but you had a bit of a soft spot for the bubbly defender. And she was determined to break through your tough outer shell. 

You sighed, staring with thinly veiled boredom at the women in front of you. Bonding nights were obligatory, but forced participation in the games they chose was not. Sure, you guessed you were technically playing truth or dare with the women, but no one dared call on you. You didn’t want them too. 

“Alright Sonny, your turn,” Alex smiled, sobering from the embarrassing story Sonnett had just been dared to tell. You leaned forward slightly, interested in what the woman would do. She sent Lindsey a mischievous smirk. “Well, I think I should pick the only person who hasn’t participated this evening,”

“Emily that might not be a good idea…” Kelley started, glancing worriedly at you. There was a reason they didn’t fuck with you. 

“Y/n, truth or dare,” Emily asked, raising her eyebrow at you, completely ignoring frat daddy senior. The rest of the team held their breath as you cocked your head to the side and squinted your eyes. 

“Truth,”

“But that’s boring,” Emily huffed, pouting. The corners of your mouth twitched at her adorableness and you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly (something that didn’t go unnoticed by a majority of the team's veterans). 

“Fine then, dare,” You raised your eyebrow, leaning back in your seat. The vets released their breath, glad that this was going well. 

“Yes!!!” she cheered, pumping her fists. Your lips twitched again into a playful smirk. She tapped her chin in thought, surprised she had gotten this far. You began to hum jeopardy theme under your breath, waiting for her to decide. And the vets yet again shared a look of disbelief. Emily was the only person who brought out this side of you. 

A mischievous smile broke across her features when she had finally thought up her dare. She wanted to do something that no one on the team had done. “I dare you to let me touch you,” 

Your smirk disappeared, your lips forming a tight line, your shoulders tensed, all humor evaporated like smoke. You didn’t do physical contact, just the thought made your skin crawl. “No,” you said sternly. 

“Oh come on. I’ll be gentle. You might even like it,” Emily pleaded, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You frowned. That was part of why you didn’t want it. You were terrified that you would like the comfort of her touch, and then what happened when she left? Everyone always left. 

“No, I change my mind. I chose truth,” You shook your head. 

“You can’t do that,” Emily whined. 

“I just did,” You said cooley, clasping your hands together, the glint in your eye just daring her to try and challenge you. 

She opened her mouth as if to respond, but Alex beat her to it. “Sonnett just let it go,” Alex said, eyeing you carefully. They didn’t need an explosion from you, frankly, she was surprised that one hadn’t happened already. 

Emily’s pout deepened. She crossed her arms like a small child, and just like that the tension left you. 

“Fine, but you have to answer the question I pick,” She huffed. 

You nodded once, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent a smile at her cuteness and gesturing for her to continue. 

Alex grabbed Kelley’s hand to prevent her from gaping at you. You never ever flipped back and forth between agitated and playful so quickly. 

“Why won’t you let us touch you? Like even a hug or a high five?” Emily asked, staring you in the eyes. 

You blinked, pursing your lips. “I don’t like it.”

“But how do you have a relationship when you won’t let people get close to you?” Emily pressed, refusing to stop this line of questioning. She really liked you, despite your brooding, and how did you have a relationship with someone who you couldn’t touch. That sounded like some fifty shades of grey bullshit and she wasn’t here for it. 

“I don’t. I’m going to bed,” You said stonily, standing and stalking towards the door, tired of this impromptu interrogation. Why was Emily so obsessed with touching you anyway?

*****

The silence that followed the slam of the door was defining, the team frozen by your sudden outburst. Emily’s mouth was left hanging at your reaction. Sure she had been warned of your moodiness, but with your playful behavior, in the beginning, she thought that it may have been safe to ask. To try and break past one of those walls. 

“You’re lucky she likes you kid,” Tobin said quietly, still watching the door. 

“You call that liking?” Emily snorted in disbelief. 

“She let you ask the question, that’s more than any of us have ever gotten,” Christen smiled sadly, patting Emily’s knee. 

You didn’t do games or get-to-know-you questions. Hell, the most the team had heard you talk was during strategy meetings. The last time someone had tried to get you involved in the team's bonding games, Abby Wambach had taken the field with a black eye (It wasn’t intentional, but pin the medal on the cutout was maybe not the best choice of games). 

“You also almost got her to smile,” Megan added kindly, trying to brighten her spirit. You liked Emily, and you always seemed to brighten around her. She didn’t want Emily to give up on you. You both deserved to be happy. 

“Why is she so grumpy all the time?” Emily asked, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“It’s complicated,” Kelley started, and Emily rolled her eyes. That was all anyone would say about you, and she found it entirely inadequate in describing the situation. 

“Y/n was hurt a long time ago, by the only person she’s ever loved. Just give her some time,” Christen said gently rubbing her back. It wasn’t their story to tell, but you liked Emily, and she would bet her hat that you would tell her eventually. 

****

“Emily this is a bad idea,” Rose whispered, huddling against the wall just behind the dining-room door. Sam and Lindsey nodded their agreement. 

Emily rolled her eyes. It wasn’t like they were gonna dump water on anyone. It was just confetti’s.“It’ll be fine guys, it’s just a prank,” 

She shushed the girls as footsteps approached. She stepped out behind the door, preparing to throw the confetti on her poor, unsuspecting teammate, only for strong hands to grip her wrists and pull her into their tall frame. 

“Whoa, there hot stuff,” You chucked, catching the woman, a smile hinting on your lips, the confetti bucket trapped conveniently between your bodies. 

“Oh, shit” Lindsey breathed out. 

“Sorry Y/N we-...” Rose stuttered, both women stopping when your gaze met theirs. All humor was gone from your eyes, and your lips curled slightly. They shrunk as far back from you and Emily as much they could. 

You glanced down, softening at the woman in your arms. “Try to time your pranks better next time, alright?” A smile hinted on your features at the woman’s too quick nod, and you squeezed her shoulders lightly, nodding back once. 

 “Ice Cream tonight?” You asked, completely missing the glances Rose and Lindsey were sharing. 

“Yeah, sure,” Emily smiled, eyes wide. You nodded, a soft smile playing across your lips. You squeezed her shoulder and leaning in to place a very soft kiss on her cheek before heading off. 

“What the fuck just happened?” Emily whispered, watching the slightly giddy way you walked away. 

“I think Y/N just asked you out,” Lindsey mumbled in disbelief. For a person with seemingly no heart, it was strange to see you acting so soft with their Disani. 

“She touched you,” Rose said, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. 

“Touch, she kissed her cheek,” Lindsey snorted. 

“Yeah, she did,” 

*****

Emily didn’t know what she expected from your ice cream date, but it certainly wasn’t your shy smiles and adorable jokes. You were warm and inviting with her (at least you tried to be) and Emily immensely appreciated the effort. For someone who everyone thought had no heart, she thought yours was beautiful. Hesitant and shy but very sweet. 

You had been polite, and courteous, even going so far as to insist that you walked Emily back to her room. You paused in front of her door, saddened that your night was about to be over. This was so different for you, but with Emily, opening up felt so much less scary. 

“You know, I could have walked here by myself. You’re only like 2 doors down,” Emily joked, and you rolled your eyes at the woman, pulling her hand to your lips. 

“Hmm, I know, but I wanted this to be perfect,” You smirked against her hand. 

“Well, it was pretty good,” She laughed, thoroughly enjoying your playful nature. She just hoped it didn’t disappear when you were around the others. 

“Just pretty good?” You asked, insecurity obvious in your tone. You never let someone get this close, you didn’t want to be a disappointment. 

“No, amazing,” she smiled reassuringly, taking a step closer to you. 

“I have something that will make it even better,” You murmured leaning in, draping the hand you were holding over her shoulder, and resting your hands on her waist. She tilted her head up, connecting your lips in a slow sweet kiss. Her hand traveled from your shoulder to toy with the collar of your dress shirt, and you tensed lightly. You relaxed when her tongue probed your lips, and you hesitantly parted them, your tongues sweetly touching. Her hand traced down your collar and settled on your chest, just above your heart, and she ran her fingers over the raised lines she found there. 

You pulled away when air became, resting for foreheads together. 

“Wow,” The breath from her words famed across your lips, and you felt a light pink bloom across your cheeks. 

“Good wow?” You asked.

“Fantastic,” She hummed, leaning up and connecting your lips again. The fingers not on your collar tangled in the baby hairs at the back of your neck, and you sighed into the kiss. 

You pulled away, a sudden smile breaking across your features. 

“Does this mean you’ll go out with me again?” 

“Absolutely,” she giggled. And you pecked her lips again, before pulling away to open the door for her. She leaned heavily against it and watched you retreat back to your room (totally not missing your little celebration that was not so different from Carli’s goal celebration, as you headed back to your room). She snorted. Cold-hearted her ass. 

*****

In the eight months since your date, you and Emily had only gotten closer. She was like a magnet, always drawing you back to her. You had gotten better about touch, and allowing your playful side out around the team. You loved her, and you would do anything for her. She was your person. 

You plopped down on the pitch, breathing heavily after your team (cool beans) beat Alex’s team (hot stuff) in the scrimmage. You had played alright, scoring 4 goals and leaving the other team’s defense useless. You were broken out of your thoughts by a blond shadow. You placed your hand on your brow, squinting up at the woman. 

“Good game, even though you didn’t really have to do much,” You smirked up at her, taking her outstretched hand to stand up. 

“Well spending all that time in the attacking half really made me tired,” She laughed, and you rolled your eyes at her. 

“Hop on,” You smiled, gesturing towards your back. 

The team was stunned, watching as you lifted one Emily Sonnett for a piggyback ride. What was even more surprising was the large smile plastered across your face at her repeated calls of giddy-up. 

“Is she?” Alex asked, unable to decide if it was the touching or the smiling that she was asking about. 

“Yep,” Kelley murmured back, smiling when you set Sonnett carefully on her feet and kissed her forehead. She melted a little at how softly you cradled the woman’s face. 

“She looks happy,” Alex hummed. 

“She deserves to be. They both do,”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #emily sonnett x reader #emily sonnett imagine

[jaesqueso]

Rain

pairing: toxic boyfriend!hendery x fem!reader

summary: You finally decide it’s time to say goodbye and on the way you reminisce about how it all started. And how it ended.

(moodboard)

word count: 2,074

warnings: angst, strong language, cheating, domestic violence, death

a/n: I originally thought of this for a music video but since I’m just a simple girl living a simple life I turned it into an actual story. do remember this a fanfiction, I’m not saying Hendery is this type of person! do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

You wake up as the sun shines in your face through the window. You get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower. You don’t even bother checking the time, there’s really only one thing you need to do today. You get dressed in the darkest clothes you own that contrast with the bright day outside. You look in the mirror and take a deep breath. Today is the day you let go.

You grab your purse and as you open the door you notice the umbrella standing against the wall. You look at the window and there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. But you still take it with you. You walk down the street, sunglasses hiding your tired eyes. Your steps are not too fast, you know that you have to finally do this but you want to take your time. You know you’re not going to back down, as you’ve been doing for the last two weeks. Today it ends.

As you pass the park you remember when you first meet him.

⭐︎

Three years and two months ago

“Hey! Watch were you’re going-” You started scolding however bumped into you but stopped when you saw his startled expression.

“I’m so sorry!” He apologised as he removed his headphones. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You look down and check your camera to see if you at least got the shot you’ve been trying to get for the last twenty minutes.

“Wow, those look amazing!” He glanced at the little screen in your hands checking your work.

“Oh, thanks.” You awkwardly smiled at the nosy stranger.

“Are you a photographer?” He curiously asked.

“Not yet, I’m still finishing my degree. These are actually for a school project.” You explained as he was showing interest in your favourite subject in the world. You could talk about photography for hours.

“Nice! I bet you’ll the best in class with those pictures.” He genuinely smiled and you suddenly felt shy. “Are they going to be displayed anywhere?”

“Well, by the end of the semester there will be an exhibition on campus. You should drop by.” You gulped as maybe you’re being too straight forward with this person you’ve never met before.

“I would love to.” He smiled and extended his hand. “I’m Hendery.”

“Y/N.” You shook his hand returning the smile.

⭐︎

And he did came to the exhibition like he said he would. Until then you had exchanged texts, calls and even went on a few dates. At the time you were amazed by him, everything you learned about him just made you fall more and more.

⭐︎

Three years ago

“You made it!” You smiled and walked to Hendery giving him a warm hug.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He hugged you tightly before letting go. “This is for you.”

“For me?” You gasped as he extended a single red rose your way.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d like to receive a bouquet so I thought just one would spare me some embarrassment.” He scratched the back of his neck looking down with a shy smile.

“That is so thoughtful, thank you Hendery.” You took the rose as you felt your cheeks burning up.

You showed him around the gallery until you were in front of that photograph you were trying to take the day you met. He pampered you with compliments on your work the whole time and you felt like your heart could burst at any minute. Unfortunately a couple of hours later he had to leave so you accompanied him outside.

“Thank you so much for coming, it means a lot to me.” You bit your lip. “And for the rose of course.”

“My pleasure.” He flashed you a nervous smile.

“What?” You asked curiously.

“I have something I want to ask you but I’m afraid your answer will break my heart.” He mutters as he looks down at his shoes.

“Hendery,” you took his hand and squeezed lightly, “I would never break your heart.”

“Will you be my girlfriend then?” You gasped at his words. “I’m sorry, it’s ok if don’t like me back-”

“Yes!” You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to give him the first of many kisses you would share along the years.

⭐︎

You smile at the memory of what was one of the best days in your life. You always choose to remember the happy moments you spent with him. The dates, the smiles, the laughs, the I love you’s and the promises, even though they were bound to be broken.

In your relationship you loved and you hurt each other, but you would always find a away to make up and get back into each others arms. He proved to be more than you could handle but you couldn’t let him go because you weren’t perfect and also made a lot of mistakes. But you always forgave each other and promised to be better. Unfortunately some things never change.

You kept walking to your destination but stop as you pass by your favourite bakery. As much as you’d like, the memories you try so hard to forget always find their way back.

⭐︎

Two weeks ago

“I’ll take the pink one please.” You ordered a small cake in his favourite colour for your third anniversary together.

As the lady behind the counter carefully puts it in a box wrapping it with a silk ribbon you sigh. Yet again he forgot an important date in your relationship. You had been taken things easy on him as you’d been fighting a lot lately because he’s always working and never has time for you, so you just decided to surprise him with a nice gesture and maybe you could forget everything and have a nice evening with him.

You walked back to your shared apartment, cake in your hands and a smile on your face. It was a beautiful day as the last rays of sunshine lit up the streets. He wasn’t picking up your calls or replying to your texts but you wouldn’t let that affect you today, he was probably glued to the couch playing video games with his friends, lost in the virtual world.

You opened the door and was surprised when you didn’t see him in the living room so you tried the bedroom. As you walked through the corridor you heard muffled sounds but ignore them as you admire the pictures on the wall that decorate the hallway along with that one you took on your first encounter.

“Hendery-” You gasp as you open the bedroom door, dropping the cake on the floor.

⭐︎

You look up at the sky as clouds gather above you in all different shades of grey. You open up the umbrella you brought and open it over your head as the first drops of rain fall from the sky.

And in the blink of an eye a beautiful sunny day turned into a gloomy rainy disaster. Just like in that day.

⭐︎

“Y/N!“ He pushed the girl on top of him on the bed as he looked at you. “It’s not what it looks like, I can explain-”

“Fuck you, Hendery!” You walked out and headed towards the living room.

“Babe wait!” You heard him shout as he tumbled on his feet to put some sweatpants and a t-shirt on and go after you.

“Don’t fucking call me babe now!” You gathered your things and walked to the door.

“Please, let me explain!” He stepped in front of the door to block your exit.

“What is there to explain? I’m pretty sure I know what I saw!” You screamed. “In our fucking bed, Hendery! At least have the decency to take your whores somewhere else!”

“Like you do?” He defied you.

“Oh so I’m the bad guy now?” You walked back into the living room not wanting to look him the face.

“You are!” You shot him a death glare as he continued excusing himself. “You’re acting like you are so perfect but you fuck up too! You hooked up with my best friend of all people!”

“It was a fucking game Hendery! Don’t act like your seven minutes in heaven with that random girl where all that innocent!” You yelled.

“That was a year ago!” He walked in your direction.

“Oh you want something more recent? How about that fucking slut in our bedroom right now?” You pointed to the hallway.

“She means nothing, she’s just a co-worker-” He shrugged his shoulders which made even more mad.

“A co-worker?” You interrupted him, tired of his excuses. “So she’s the reason why you always stay late at work now? Shit, I should’ve know.”

“And who are you to talk about co-workers when you keep texting that fucking guy?” He raised his voice again.

“He’s my assistant! We need to talk about work!” You widened your eyes in disbelief.

“Your assistant, right. I bet he assists you in everything you need-” He stoped as you slapped his face. He took his hand to his cheek and looked you dead in the eye. He grabbed you by the neck and pushed you into a wall. “How do you fucking dare hit me?”

“You can hurt me whenever you want but I can’t give you a slap when you’re talking shit?” You muttered struggling as he restrained your breathing. A few seconds later he let you go off his grip and you dropped your hands to your knees taking in as much air as you could. “Why do we do this to each other?” You asked as you get back up.

“I don’t know.” He sat in the couch with his hands on his head.

“Why did you have to do this in our anniversary of all days?” You shook your head, as if him cheating on you another day would make a difference.

“Our anniversary?” He looked at you in surprise.

“Just another one you forgot. And to think I was willing to forgive you-“ You stopped as you saw the girl from before peeking through your bedroom door. “But I’m done Hendery, I don’t need this, I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me?” He got up again, eyes filled with anger and fists clenched. “You have someone else to go to now? A fucking bitch like you will never find someone better than me.”

You were about to slap him again but he quickly held your wrist while his other fist landed in your cheek.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to do that-” He let go off your wrist and took a step back widening his eyes.

“Fuck you, Hendery! I never want to see you again! I wish you were dead!” And with that you stormed out of the apartment.

“Y/N, wait!” You heard him yelling as he came after you.

When you got outside it was raining hard which made your vision even blurrier as tears were already forming in your eyes. You ran, not really knowing where you were going but you knew he was right behind you as you heard your name being called over and over again.

You crossed a street not even checking for any cars but as you reached the other side you stopped your steps as you heard a car braking and hitting something.

No, it couldn’t be…

⭐︎

You stop walking and take a deep breath. This is it the place you’ve been avoiding but it’s time. It’s time to let go, it’s time to set yourself free. It was not your fault.

You enter the cemetery and search for his grave.

“Hi, Hendery.” You whisper as if you don’t want anyone to hear it, only him, wherever he is. Your eyes start watering as a single tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m sorry.”

You squat down and lay a red rose next to his gave stone.

“We were never good together, and we knew it. I’m sorry that we let things get this far. I’m sorry that I didn’t let go sooner and maybe you’d still be here.” You take a deep breath. “But it’s time to finally let you go. I forgive you for hurting me. And I forgive me for loving you.”

You lower your umbrella as the rain stops and the sun shines again through the clouds.

“Goodbye, Hendery.”

#cznnet #hendery #hendery angst #nct #nct angst #wayv #wayv angst

[emmyisafanandacon]

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭!𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

[FLUFF] Word Count: 2083 words It’s a very hot day out in the field, which is unfortunate since ground operations are currently ongoing today. You were hoping to delay the operations further down another term, but unfortunately, the backlog operations from the pandemic were ridiculous, so you decided to take your missed simulations all in one day. What a shame that you had to choose the hottest day of the year, it seems. So now here you are, sitting on a chair in the giant hangar as you wait for your head instructor to come back with your assigned instructor for your ground operations. The shade from the hangar may be some comfort, but it truly felt like the heat was bouncing off the asphalt. You quietly pray that it would not affect the aircraft you need to taxi, and hope that it would be a little cooler in the aircraft.

Probably not. It’s a single-engine aircraft. The metal might exacerbate the heat for you. You sigh out your discomfort and looked around. Around you were a bunch of different aircraft, some of the models you recognize from your classes. You hold back a small grimace, as you remember the last time you did your aircraft taxiing, your instructor pilot was a bit strict on your taxi control, requiring you to stay perfectly in the middle of the runway for the taxi. It was a miracle you passed that term. God, it feels like it has been 10 minutes since you last saw your head instructor. But he seemed to have disappeared out of nowhere. You just hope that the pilot assigned to you was a decent one. “Excuse me?” You turn around to find yourself staring at one of the newer pilots you saw hanging around the faculty. A tall young man gives you a sheepish grin, his grey eyes twinkling with jittery energy. He’s dressed in a typical pilot’s uniform, with a brown leather briefcase hanging from his shoulder. You’ve heard about him several times from some of your schoolmates, the new cute pilot with fluffy brown hair and a charming smile. He’s caught the attention of so many people, so it’s pretty interesting to finally meet the actual person. “Hi. I am so sorry that I took too long, that was very unprofessional of me.” he scratches the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “No, it’s fine. I wasn’t waiting too long.” you lied. “The head instructor told me to wait here, I’m guessing it’s my turn on the aircraft?” He shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck, “Unfortunately, there have been some setbacks on the scheduling. We might have to wait a bit longer before the run-up operation.” “It’s okay. I guess I’ll wait a little longer.” “I'm truly sorry about that,” he begins to look around the hangar. “They asked you to wait here?” “…Yes?” He looks up at the bright blue sky peering out of the hangar’s roof, blinking at the sun’s bright glare from the concrete ground. “Maybe it’s best if we stayed in the pilot’s lounge, that way you wouldn't have to stay in this heat.” He glances back to you with a nervous smile, his eyes almost iridescent. “If that’s okay with you! I was just thinking that the hangar might not be the best place to stay in. It’s a bit hot today that’s all.” You smile at the skittish instructor. “It’s alright Captain. I’m fine with waiting in the pilot’s lounge.” His cheeks began to turn red, as he gives a flustered giggle. “I- Please don’t call me that, it makes me feel a bit older than I should. I think we’re quite close in age after all.” “Okay,” you smile cheekily at him, saving the fact that he gets embarrassed quickly in mind for future references. “What should I call you then?” “Ah, sorry! I forgot to introduce myself,” he extends a hand out to you, “My name is Capt. Karl Jacobs. I’m one of the new flight instructors. Though you can call me Karl instead, I’d rather not follow protocol.” “[Y/N], Aerospace Engineering, Year 3.” He raises a brow, “Aerospace Engineering? Very interesting, what’s it like to have that course?” “If you can handle eons of mathematics, it’s not a bad course to have,” you laugh. He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can handle that much math, I’d rather leave that to better people like you. Shall we head to the lounge?” You nod, as you sit up and you start to gather your belongings to head to the pilot’s lounge. But Karl stops you and grabs your bag for you, giving you a wink as he starts to walk inside. You weren’t expecting that, but it’s not uncommon for flying students to try to be chivalrous towards their company. You follow him in, though you find your thoughts catching up to you. It’s absurd, you think, calling a pilot by their first name. Normally calling the pilots by their name was strange, but Karl clearly isn’t like the other pilots or the flying students you constantly rub elbows with. “Karl…” You try, slightly cringing at the lack of Captain or Sir. “Isn’t it a bit rebellious to not follow protocol? What would the other captains

say?” you jest at him as he leads you through the empty hallways. He gives you a little smile. “It’s fine for me. Don’t you call the AMT technicians and the AE engineers by their names?” You roll your eyes at him. “Well, that’s because we see them more often, and we’re more familiar with each other, so it’s fine to call them by their names. Though aren’t you guys stricter with the flying students?” He laughs at that, “We are, but you’re not a flying student. Unless… Do you plan on switching?” You shake your head, “Nope, you’re talking to an engineer through and through.” As you uttered those words, you both found yourselves in front of the pilot lounge’s entrance. He opens the door and holds the door for you expectantly, the cold air from the lounge blasting around you. You give a small smile of gratitude and enter, noticing that the lounge is also empty. “Why aren’t there many people around? Aren’t there students taking their required hours too?” You ask Karl as you seat yourself in one of the many chairs around the lounge, dropping your things down a table. “From what I understood, contact has to be limited still, and that there aren’t many students who have scheduled their ground operation schedule yet. So not many people should be on the grounds right now.” He explains as he brings out a folder from his bag taking the seat next to you. “Do you have your ground operations info sheet? I’ll help you fill out the details of the aircraft we should be using today.” You look at him in surprise, “Usually the technicians are the ones who help us fill this out, aren’t you the one who’s supposed to grade me instead?” He gives a cheery smile in response. “It’s fine, we don’t have much to do anyway as we wait. We might as well fill out the form, besides,” he lifts the grading rubric he has in his hand. “I’ll still grade you fairly based on your taxiing performance. Nothing to worry about.” You give him an impassive look, to which he laughs in response. “I won’t have too high expectations, I swear! I’m only strict towards flying students.” he raises his hands in defense. You sigh, but you allow him to take a look at your information sheet, filling up the details of the aircraft with his help. He stays close to you the whole time, and you can almost feel his fluffy curls touch your hair lightly, his warmth cascading over you lightly as you try to focus on your sheet. His hands meeting yours from time to time as he points at different parts of the info sheet, directing you on what to write. After the sheet was completed, you hand your sheet for Karl to keep and you fell into simple conversation, discussing technical things, like how it’s like to be an instructor or a pilot. Karl answered with an excitable passion for all questions, almost like a cute puppy receiving a treat. (“But wasn't the exam difficult? I heard so many people failed it.” “It took me one month to study for it.” “…Wow.”) Soon, the questions delved into personal territory, from why you chose to be an engineer and eventually fell into Karl’s many adventures as a flying student. (“How are you still a pilot?” “I have no clue either that was incredibly dumb of me too.” “Have you at least fixed your Monster addiction problem?” “…..Hey so, what do you guys do in that laboratory of yours?” “DON’T CHANGE THE SUBJECT KARL.”) You both learned so much about each other, learning that you two were only two years from each other. (“How did I not meet you sooner when you were still a student?” “I was always in the library.” “Like a nerd?” “No, I- Hey! Take that back!”) An hour passed, and soon the head instructor entered the lounge, notifying the both of you that it is your turn for the ground operation training, apologizing for the long delay. And yet, you don’t feel frustration for the long wait. You follow Karl and your head instructor out into the runway where the aircraft was dropped off by another duo taking the taxiing procedure. You both rush into the plane, climbing in as the propellers burst large gusts of air. The previous pilot

quickly switched places with Karl, as you greet your fellow student as you try to climb in. Once you got in the aircraft, you felt both excited and nervous as Karl looks through your paper. “Ready to taxi?” He asks with a cheery grin. You give him a small nod, as you watch him turn on the engine to a slow speed for the aircraft to start moving. “Remember to stay in the middle of the runway, and you can adjust the speed of the engine if you want the aircraft to go faster.” Pushing the pedals on your feet to center the aircraft onto the runway, you try to follow the white middle line on the concrete as best as you can. You find yourself slightly gripping the yolk, as you try to point the nose of the aircraft straight at the middle. Karl encourages you the whole time as you go for a turn towards the left. You notice another aircraft taxiing nearby and try to maintain a distance away from them, slowing to give them space. Karl smiles in acknowledgment as you still try to keep the pace and distance steady the best you can. He starts pointing out parts of the aircraft to you, introducing the flight instruments as you continue to steer the aircraft around the runway. Eventually, he directs you to park the aircraft to a specific area. As soon as the aircraft falls to a full stop, he gives your info sheet with a smile. “Congratulations, full marks. Maybe you could be a pilot instead, and fly with me?” He teases. You smile back at him, “I won’t be flying the plane anytime soon, but maybe I’ll work with you sometime in the future?” He giggles at the idea, “Let’s see. See you someday engineer, hope I’m your instructor again soon.” “See you someday, Captain Karl Jacobs.” You grin as you clamber out of the plane with the help of some technicians outside and head back to the hangar to check your info sheet. Exactly as he said, he graded your procedure with perfect marks, giving excellent praise and comments on your driving. Before you thought of passing the paper to your head instructor, you noticed a white sticky note attached at the back of the paper with a small message written on it. ‘It was fun talking to you, maybe you’d be up for more of that another time? Just shooting my shot. XXXX-XXX-XXXX -Karl <3’ You smile at the sticky note, keeping it in your pocket as you hand over your info sheet to your head instructor as he dismissed you off. As you head out towards the exit, you send a text out to the number. ‘Sure, coffee date sometime? Good luck on instructing everyone else. <3 -Future Engineer’

𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢 𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 20 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢 𝘢

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯

𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳! 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵!

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs x y/n #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dream smp x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader