#This is the shittiest au i have ever thought up at two am | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

breakyeol · 3 years

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

742 notes · View notes

snitches-at-dawn · 3 years

Text

timing’s a bitch || d.m.

definitely not based on my life rn. i am not simping for my bsf no way sir.

anyways, i’m alive.

enjoy<3

muggle!draco x muggle!reader au

your phone screen lit up next to you.

'u up?' - draco

you grinned, 'who's asking👀', you texted back.

'open the door i'm walking over'

'yeah right you'll take 20 mins to do your hair call me when you're actually here loser' you texted back.

you grew up with draco malfoy and blaise zabini living a lane away from you. you were in the same grade and had parents who got along like a house on fire. you went to the same school and rode on the same bus, only to come home and play together in the evenings.

as childhood rolled around into adolescence, the tree swings which witnessed shared candies saw secrets and stolen swigs of alcohol from your parents stash.

you weren't particularly fond of draco and he wasn't your biggest fan either as kids. you handled each other around blaise because you were his best friends. you sort of just... lived your lives around each other even though you him and blaise were always together. it was odd but neither of you questioned it too much.

slowly though, you both grew. you stopped being an self-righteous know-it-all, he deflated his ego and surprisingly enough the two of you got along like a house on fire. you cracked the same 'that's what she said jokes,' loved each other's music tastes and became inseparable during the last two years of high school.

as you and blaise celebrated that you'd be attending the same university, essentially chucking you in the same city for at least the next four years, draco was on the opposite side of the country. it sucked. especially considering that you liked him. ‘like’ liked him. got-butterflies-in-your-stomach-when-you-thought-about-him-couldn't-dream-of-leaving-him liked him. perfect. you were due to leave for uni in three months when you realised you liked him. timing was great. to make it even better, you had decided to tell him tonight. three days before your flight.

your phone pinged again. 'get the door'- draco

'omw'

you creaked the door open, trying to not wake your parents as they had just settled in for the night, "shh, mum and dad just went to sleep."

draco deadpanned, "it's midnight."

you shrugged, "they're old."

"you're a bitch."

"you're best friends with a bitch so hah," you rebutted.

he sighed at you and pulled you in for a hug. you breathed in his scent. it was so cliche- to love the person you're attracted to's scent, but his was... god it was intoxicating. your hallway flooded with his cologne scent and you knew you'd be taking a moment to yourself every time you approached the door tomorrow to get another sniff.

“what’re we watching?” he asked softly as you both padded up the stairs to your room.

“i was thinking maybe star wars?”

he stopped on the last stair, “no. no way. we saw it last week.”

“right and we’ll watch it again.”

“just because you simp for kylo ren-”

“how could i not simp for kylo ren?”

you bickered in low voices till the both of you had settled into bed, leaning on each other and started ‘dumb and dumber’ on your laptop for the millionth time. as per usual, you both ended up on your phones, scrolling through tiktok and instagram, showing each other posts.

draco nudged your shoulder, “y/n. i’m hungry.”

nuzzled into his shoulder crook you replied, “go make something then. i’m asleep.”

“no you aren’t. get up.”

“mnghhhhhhh,” you moaned.

“i’ll let you have coffee even though it’s four am,” he crooned.

you glared at him as you got out of bed and pulled on socks, “you can’t just use my coffee addiction to get what you want.”

he threw a wink at you as you both made your way to the kitchen.

“what’re you making?” you hopped up onto the counted and asked.

“well what do you feel like?” he asked, examining the contents of the refrigerator.

“nothing but i’ll eat some of your food if i like it,” you shrugged.

“how about... erm... pancakes?”

you grinned, “perfect.”

draco knew your kitchen as well as you knew your own, and it worked the same way at his house. he pulled out flour, eggs, sugar, milk and every other ingredient without even stopping to ask you where everything was, as you weaved around him making your coffee.

back onto the counter with crossed legs and sipping your coffee, you watched him deftly pour the batter from the bowl into the pan. he smirked as he noticed your eyes on him, “wanna see a flip?”

“yeah!” you exclaimed, sitting straighter as the pancake flew superbly into the air and landed on the floor to which you snorted, “well done, idiot.”

he frowned, “you do it then if you’re so clever. go on!”

“oh but darling i never said i could,” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

he shook his head at you with a smile, “piece of shit.”

you winked at him, “you love it.”

“that i do. okay here have a bite,” and he handed you a plate with a pancake.

you bit into the pancake, not caring about cutlery, “oh god that’s horrid.”

“shuttup.”

“draco these are the shittiest pancakes you’ve ever made.”

“your face is the shittiest pancake i’ve ever seen,” he fired back.

“lame comeback- 2/10.”

“your face is a 2/10, y/n.”

“shuttup, malfoy.”

“you shuttup, y/l/n.”

“no you,” you said.

he clenched his hair with his fists, “i can never win with you! your banter limit is just- you don’t even have a limit! my gods you’re so annoying!”

“no you,” you smirked, “oh come on you walked right into that one!”

he groaned, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” you smiled, “alright let’s go finish the movie.”

“nah i’m gonna go home now,” he said, looking at the time on his phone.

you felt your face fall, “why?”

“y/n it’s five in the morning and i have to be up early, plus you have to pack for your-”

“no shuttup. we said we wouldn’t talk about my flight. i don’t want to think about leaving when i still have time.”

he sighed, “you have like, seventy hours before that fucking flight.”

your heart was racing now, “no just stop. you promised you wouldn’t bring it up, draco!”

“y/n why’re you so panicky about leaving? it's a new start- it’s good!”

“no it’s not, draco!”

“why?”

“because i like you and i don’t want to be five thousand fucking kilometers away from you on the other fucking side of the country,” you half yelled-half whispered, still trying to keep it down so as to not wake your parents.

his hands which were previously gesticulating wildly fell limply to his sides, “what?”

“please don’t make me say it again, it was hard enough the first time,” you blurted as you nervously wrung your hands together, “i know you don’t like me- like you said you don’t like anyone last night at millie's place but i just-”

“i like you too.”

"what?"

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco lucius malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #slytherin #draco x gryffindor!reader #draco x muggle!reader #muggle au #gryffindor #ravenclaw #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #hufflepuff

83 notes · View notes

violetevents · 3 years

Note

could u do williex 1! soulmate aus may or may not be my favorite thing ever🧎🏻‍♀️

oh boy anon have you come to the right adres I LOVE SOULMATE AU’S SO VERY MUCH. anyway here’s a classic timer one. it does mention both alex and willie’s death so warning for that. also i got really into it and now its like,,, 1k whoops. enjoy!! :D

1st of May, 1981

Willie is 10 years old when his timer appears. He’s been looking forward to this moment, the moment he finally gets to know when he will meet his soulmate. He stares at his timer in awe, amazed that the moment is finally here. His excitement is quickly dampened, however, when the numbers start to sink in.

39:4:9:6:20:3

39 years, 4 months, 9 days, 6 hours, 20 minutes, 3 seconds.

Nearly 40 years. Willie is heartbroken when he realizes. He will be an old man when he finally meets his soulmate. He always had this fantasy he would meet his soulmate immediately, like his sister did, and they could play together and go on fun adventures. But instead he has to wait 40 years. He suddenly likes timers a lot less.

Stupid soulmate.

23rd of February, 1988

It gets better, over the years. Willie becomes older, wiser. Knows meeting his soulmate at fifty won’t be that bad. He’ll have time to explore life on his own, and then him and his soulmate will still have a few good years together before they’ll die. He’s seventeen now, and he has plans, hopes, dreams.

He’s picked up skateboarding recently, and he’s gotten pretty good at it. He likes cruising the city, wind in his hair, leaving all of his worries behind.

He’s on his way home from the skate park that day, and he’s kind of late for dinner, and his mom will be on his ass about it, so he figures he might as well take a short cut. It will take him straight through traffic, but it will probably be fine. At least it’s faster.

(It’s not fine. There’s a sound of squealing tires, a bang, and then there’s his skateboard, rolling across the street without Willie on it.

The skateboard slips under a set of abandoned wooden crates behind a McDonalds. It will be years until someone finds it.)

( 24th of February, 1988

Ten year old Alex Mercer looks at his timer with a frown. Apparently it will take at least 32 years before he meets his soulmate. That’s ridiculous. He will be an old man before they get to hang out.

Stupid soulmate.)

9th of June, 1995

On a nondescript street in LA, they’re starting construction on a McDonalds. It’s meant to make way for an apartment building. One of the construction workers starts on the back alley, which is full of unnecessary junk. He clears away some crates, grumbling about getting stuck with the shittiest jobs, when he stumbles across a skateboard. It looks old, but sturdy enough, and excitedly he takes it back to the other guys.

They try to skate on it for a bit, joking about, until the foreman yells at them to get back to work. The skateboard gets thrown into a garbage container. Nobody notices the young man that has suddenly appeared next to the container, looking scared, and alone, and incredibly out of place.

(22nd of July, 1995

The Orpheum. Alex still can’t quite believe it. They’re really going to play The Orpheum. He glances at his soulmate timer more out of habit than anything. Still 25 years to go. He wonders of his soulmate will be proud of everything he has achieved when they finally meet. He takes a bite of his street dog. Maybe his soulmate is in the music business, too. That would be cool.

He chews his hotdog thoughtfully and frowns. “That’s a new flavor.”)

3rd of September, 1995

It’s been two months of this ghosty business, and Willie is still struggling coming to grips with it. The first thing he did when he came back was check his wrist, but his timer was still there, happily ticking away. Except he had somehow skipped 7 years. So now he was only 25 years away from meeting his soulmate.

He gets it now, why his time was so long. He always thought it was cruel because it would take forever, but he’s slowly starting to realize it’s even crueler. He will have to wait forever for his soulmate, and they might not even be able to see him. They could be a lifer. He could be forced to spend forever watching them live and wonder why he never showed his face.

Scared, and desperate for answer, he walks into the only place he knows might have some answers. Many ghosts have warned him off, but he doesn’t see any other way. He wants to meet his soulmate, no matter what it takes.

“Hi,” he says, to a waiter standing near the door of the Hollywood Ghost Club. “I’m looking for Caleb Covington?”

(Caleb doesn’t have the answers, but he does now have Willie’s soul. Willie figures it’s fine. He’s never going to meet his soulmate anyway, what does he need a soul for?)

(24th of August, 2020

In the end it’s the sound of their own music that brings them back, because of course it is. There’s a girl screaming and there’s a lot of confusion, and has it really been 25 years?!

Alex glances down at his wrist. There’s only 16 days left.)

10th of September 2020

Willie is planning on spending his day aggressively ignoring his timer, and he figures the best way to do that is to get out his skateboard and take it for a roll. Even after all these years, the one thing that never fails to cheer him up is the wind in his hair and the sun on his face. The streets are full of people, but that’s not a problem, not anymore.

It’s gotten better, over the years, the whole being dead business. He’s even kind of enjoying it now. Yeah, sure, Caleb has his soul, but he has a lot of fun at the HGC, so is that really so bad? He has friends now. He goes to parties. It’s not really that different from being alive

There’s still that little voice inside of him, that little voice of ten year old Willie who just wanted a friend, someone to hang with, a soulmate. But most days he silences that voice. Who needs a soulmate when you have skating?

There’s a blond guy walking a few feet away from him, looking anxious. Willie is busy trying to think of a witty thing to say when he phases through him, but instead he finds himself smashing into the boy.

Suddenly he’s on the floor, and he’s looking up, and there’s twin beeps.

They both look at their timer and then at each other and it’s like the world stops for a seconds. Somehow Willie never realized that his soulmate could be a ghost. That they could be together even though they’re dead. He blinks, and then the blond guy is sticking out a hand and helping him up and life around them moves on like nothing just happened. Like the world hasn’t just changed.

“Hi,” Blond guy says, kind of bashfully. “I’m Alex.”

“Willie,” he says, smiling widely. “So, you’re my soulmate, huh?”

Alex blushes slightly, and he looks absolutely adorable when doing so. “I guess I am, yeah.”

They just stand there for a moment, grinning at each other. It took them both years, but here they finally are.

Together.

(Willie’s really going to have to see about that soul of his. Turns out he might need it after all.)

#willex #jatp drabbles #drabbles #I ACTUALLY REALLY LIKE THIS ONE THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING IT #Anonymous

51 notes · View notes

peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perfidy;tom holland|10

chapter 10: the prop

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: the yellow flowers

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: swearing, angst, didn’t proof read, flashbacks in italics

word count: 7.5k

here’s a playlist

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) : tweets, instagrams and texts:

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Third time's the charm. At least that’s what Tom had taught you over the course of the years. Except of course, it wasn’t as charming.

It was funny, how Timothee had shown you the importance of props, but how you had learned about them throughout your whole relationship with Tom.

Props, scenes and dialogues. Tom had taught you the importance of character development because hell, had he made you develop after the last time he’d broken your heart.

You had read somewhere that a heartbreak could be physically felt, you hadn’t really believed it until that particular third time. You had felt how your chest hurt, crushing. Literal pain had come across your entire body. You had forgotten how to breathe and everything had gone blurry.

You believed it now, heartbreaks can be felt. You took it into account for your script. A mental note. You didn’t know if it was more as a reminder for yourself.

Three mental notes.

Heartbreaks can be felt.

Don’t fall back in love with him.

Having your heart broken by Tom had been the worst experience of your life and you didn’t want to go there again.

The number three was important. Three had been a constant in your relationship. Before all of this mess, of course. There were many three times but there were particular ones that couldn’t be exactly forgotten.

Three times had he gone on a date with you.

Three times had he kissed you.

Three times had he cooked for you.

Three times had he held your hand.

Three times had he danced with you.

And three times had Tom given you yellow flowers to apologize.

The third time, it was all ruined. The particular combination of three of the past mentioned had caused the piercing in your heart and your incurable character development.

Most of them really. Everything was probably a combination leading to your heartbreak.

Like when he held your hand. The first time, you had been children. And it had been sweet. You remembered it, perfectly. You had been at a wedding, a friend of your mom and his was getting married. Well, you didn’t particularly remember it, but there’s probably a video of it. With you and your pink dress and the flowers on your head.

It had been short after Tom had given you the first yellow flowers, apologizing for being an asshole from a very short age.

Yes, the first yellow flowers had been after you had pathetically tried to make him kiss you with that stupid movie scene you’d written. After he’d call you stupid and said he’d rather eat a frog than kiss you.

Shortly after that you were at a wedding, for the first time he held your hand because he wanted to.

It had been first at the church, he had been watching you, and he had blushed. And slowly he had held your hand.

And that led to the party, when he hadn’t stopped holding your hand, and he had taken you to the dance floor. As if trying to forget that probably a week before he had pushed you in the hallway at school. Very complicated.

Of course, after that Tom had then smeared cake on your face. You couldn’t expect any less. But it had been slightly nice.

Tom and you had kissed 3 times. The first had been your very first kiss, the second at a party, you were 17. Just after the second time you’ve ever danced with Tom, after he’d taken you to prom. An after party where alcohol was all you needed. Of course you were not in your best state, your feelings for Tom had resurfaced, because he had been an angel for taking you just after your stupid boyfriend had dumped you. There you were, both drunk enough and smittened enough, and that damned Louis guy. You hated him because thanks to him, Tom and you had ended up kissing, fervently and passionately. Or that’s how your friends had described it.

There was a video of that. And it was buried deep in your files, but you didn’t want to think about it. Not that you had filmed it on purpose. Someone on Snapchat had been filming the party and they had captured the fact moment you’d kissed. It wasn’t pretty.

You remembered it, it went something like—“Prom was boring and oh—shit, oh shit, shit, shit, y/n and Tom are kissing. Fucking hell!”

Not. Pretty.

But the third time you’ve ever kissed… that had been even more complicated.

Because what had led to the third kiss was very complicated. Two dates. And the last time you’d danced. The third time Tom had taken you out on a date, and it had all gone to shit. Because the third time you’ve ever kissed, you’ve ever danced and you’ve ever dated lead to the third yellow flowers.

Tom had given you pastel each time to apologize but the yellow flowers meant it was his idea. Pastel colored flowers meant it was coming from Harry, but yellow flowers meant it came from Tom.

He had given you flowers many times, yellow flowers. But only three times had he given you yellow flowers to apologize. The first time you’d thrown them away. The second time, you’d given them back and the third time…. well.

It had been three years before all of, on the night you’d met Timmy, but six months before dating Timmy.

But the context was far beyond that. It all came back to the prank wars, held a year before the incident. In which Tom and you had pulled pranks on each other. Some very elaborate, some simple ones. Like that time you changed his shampoo with condensed milk. That had been fun. Or when he had hidden all your spoons, one by one.

Simple pranks, at the beginning. Nothing too hurtful. But things got way out of hand. So you stopped it.

But of course, you both ended up living on the edge. And at some point, it got slightly forgotten.

You were going to be studying abroad for the summer, Centro Sperimentale di Cinematografia, the place that would coincidentally be the reason as to why you ended up talking to Timmy more and more after you’d met. But that’s another story.

Tom had left either for a press tour or filming. You didn’t remember. But somehow, he ended up in Italy too, and so he decided to join you. You both had agreed on clubbing together, and somehow that led to the very next day deciding to go out together, dinner. Nothing too special. But he had ended up in your dorm room helping you with your homework. You stayed up late, laughing at dumb shit till sunrise.

You didn’t know what exactly had led to that, but being alone and far from home had made you both be decent. A little bit more decent than usual. Your head on his shoulder, and his hand brushing yours.

That had been your first date, or so you had thought. You liked to think of it as a date.

“We should do this more often, hang out, only the two of us,” he had said. “Without having to pretend we hate each other.”

“I’m not pretending,” you chuckled.

“Maybe I am,” he said. “But you know what I mean, look, this was nice, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Should we go for some espressos since we didn’t sleep shit last night.”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It isn’t a no either.”

And you had coffee, but he had to leave.

Which led to the second date, back in London when the summer had ended and when he was back, for a bit.

You went to a pub, alone and without telling anyone. You had had fun again, and you had walked around London. That had been the third time he’d held your hand. And the flame had been sparked.

“I need help believing this is actually happening.” You watched him.

“Why?” Tom asked.

“I feel like you poisoned me.”

He chuckled, “yeah, I thought you had poisoned me, but maybe, you’ve bewitched me in other ways.”

“Oh I am a witch.”

“How else would you explain I’ve fallen under your spell.”

It felt so real, so nice. Just the two of you, walking around London, illuminated by the streetlights, pointing out silly things. Slightly boozed up, but not really. It had been romantic, you remembered as he had walked you to your door and kissed your cheek.

After that you both had been texting every day, and calling each other. No sign of your hatred anymore. Pictures of kisses on cheeks, silly videos.

And it was nice, and maybe everyone started to notice, because you hadn’t been fighting on one of those family reunions. You had even been sitting together.

“You and Tom are finally friends?” Sam asked.

You had only looked at Tom and smiled slightly. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Since when?” Harry chuckled.

“We saw each other back when I was back at Rome,” you explained. “It’s nice not to be fighting.”

It took you only two… dates, now you refused to call them that, but it took you no time to fall in love with him. So deeply. And it felt like listening to your favorite song, or like watching your favorite movie.

Because you’d continue to hang out, not dates really. Only hanging out. Like that one time he only showed up at your door with some pizza and just watched you finish a project. Or that time when he asked you to come over while he was reading a script and you played with his hair.

It had been nice, all a secret. Nobody knew. A perfect secret.

Until it really wasn’t.

Tom and you had gone out again, first for dinner and then he’d taken you to a club, you’d be dancing.

That was the third time Tom had ever kissed you, and that was the third time Tom had ever danced with you, and the third time he’d ever taken you out alone, on a sorta type of date.

Of course, it had been romantic and perfect and nice. And he had laughed and kissed you again. And you had been dancing, even if you were a terrible dancer, and even if you barely knew what was going on.

Of course, that’s when it all went to shit.

Because little did you know that the night would turn to be shittiest day of your life.

Somehow, Harry, Sam, Haz, Tuwaine and some other friends had gone to the same club. That’s when things had started going all downhill.

Of course when they’d seen you they’d come quickly and Tom had turned cold, and walked away from you. Which of course had you wondering if anything was wrong.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us you’d be here?” Harry had asked.

Tom only took a sip of his drink. “Mmh, I did, I did, I thought that’s why you guys were joining us.”

“You guys hanging out together alone?” Emilia, one of your friends, pointed out. “Sounds sketchy.”

“Please they’ve been hanging out alone for a while,” Haz laughed.

“Really?” Harry asked, watching between you and Tom.

“No,” Tom denied it, as he ordered more alcohol. “No, no.”

You frowned. “Well—“

“Are you guys dating or something?” Emily pushed.

Tom frowned. “Please, Emily, as if I would ever date someone like y/n.”

You stayed quiet.

“Anyway, we’re here let’s… let’s have fun,” Tom added.

The night continued and eventually Tom walked away again to get more drinks, you followed after him.

“Aren’t we going to tell them? I mean they already caught us,” you asked as the loud music could barely even let you hear your own thoughts. The blue lights were dizzying you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as he ordered another drink.

“Tom.”

“Tell them what? Nothing is happening.”

You frowned. “Really, nothing?”

“Why are you acting up?” He frowned. “Just be normal, y/n.”

“I thought—“

Tom chuckled. “What did you think?”

Harry joined the two of you. “What was really going on, guys?”

“Nothing, Harry,” Tom pushed past you, going back to your friends.

“You guys came here alone?” Harry asked, leaning over to your ear so you could listen to him.

“I—well, kind of?” You gulped. “But—I think I should talk to Tom.”

Harry frowned. “What’s happening, y/n?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to talk about it with anyone but Tom.

But you went back to the group, and danced slightly. You didn’t want to hide anything, you wanted to keep acting like you were before. Your friends could know. It didn’t matter.

You would sometimes dance closer to Tom and for moments he’d forget everything and smile at you but something had gotten into him and he’d push you away and ignore you.

A group of other people had approached you and danced with you. And at first it didn’t matter. But you recognized some faces, they went to school with you.

You remember taking out your phone and dancing close to Tom, but he only pushed your phone away. “Cmon y/n, I don’t want people seeing us together.”

That’s when you had felt it. Initially. The first pain across your chest.

But if he wanted to play that game, you could play it too, you ignored him and danced with your friends. But then you couldn’t ignore him.

One of the three girls from the other group that had approached you had his hands around Tom. A hint of jealousy could be seen on your face, your stomach jolted and you couldn’t help but clench your jaw. As her delicate fingers were brushing his hair and walking down his chest. As his own hand pulled her hips closer thin as they danced, and as he looked at her and only her. But his eyes went back to you at some point. And he had smirked at you.

You didn’t understand what was going on. Why was he dancing along with the other girl? He was supposed to be dancing with you. Only hours before his lips were on yours and they’d tasted sweet and they had been soft. And his hands had held you so warmly.

Why was he now with her? Where had all gone to shit?

The music had calmed down slightly and some of you had sat down, with little miss short pink skirt cheering everything Tom was doing.

“I seriously thought you guys were on a date,”Emily had pointed out again.

“Please y/n is too…”he scrunched his nose looking at you. “I’m sorry y/n, you’re going to die alone.”

You frowned as you stood up, “Tom, can I talk to you?”

“No,” he chuckled as he looked at the pink skirt. “I’m good here.”

You ignored them as you had gone back to dancing. You joined the group of people who had joined you.

One of the guys had been watching you, his green eyes staggering you as he smiled at you. His dancing had you entranced, but not entranced enough to forget about Tom. But it was true, you couldn’t get your eyes off of him.

“You’re—I’ve seen you in my classes,” he whispered in your ear.

“Oh yes, you seem familiar,” you chuckled as you danced.

“I’m—I’m Tim,” he offered you a hand. So proper.

You chuckled, shaking it. “Y/N, nice to meet you.”

But you looked back at Tom, and even though you had seen it coming, that didn’t stop you from breaking.

You felt like not even the lights had helped you, you felt like there were two single spotlights, one on you as you felt a stab across your chest, and the other one on Tom as he was practically eating the pink skirt up. Her lips were on his. His were on hers.

The music had stopped.

Why was he doing this? How had this turned into your worst nightmare? Only hours before he was kissing you. Deeply. Nicely. Not like that.

Had the kiss been bad? Was it your clothes? Had it been the way you had been too clingy? What had you done wrong?

You felt like you were going to faint. You had stopped breathing. You had to sit down but not with them.

“Hey, are you—are you okay?” Tim had asked you, as you were trying to catch your breath.

“I—I need to sit down,” you said.

“Oh okay, of course let me—“Tim had led the way to his table, but your eyes were still glued to Tom and pink skirt.

“Ah, Hally seems to be having a good time over there with your friend,” Tim pointed out.

“Huh?”

“Tom right? He is—Tom Holland? Hally, my friend—she’s— she's the one—well, getting friendly with him, and that other girl, that’s Emma the one talking to your friend.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t talk to him. You felt sick. Your whole body had weakened and you felt a pain in your chest. A stomach ache. A headache. Everything hurt.

Everything had turned blurry. You barely remembered what was going on, the last thing you remember was seeing him walk out of the place with her. Not you. With her.

You had reached out for Sam, telling him you didn’t feel well. You guess Sam realized what was going on. He didn’t ask much, only if you wanted him to stay and if you were alright.

And you had cried yourself to sleep, alone. Because who could you tell? What did you win by telling anyone this? Why did you feel that way? Why had he done it? A million questions had surfaced.

Where had they gone? Had he planned on doing this?

You hadn’t slept at all. You had skipped breakfast, and lunch. And you hadn’t gone to your class.

You were supposed to go out with the Holland’s, you didn’t go.

Someone had knocked at your door, and you didn’t stand up. You were too busy with a spoonful of chocolate icing that you’d saved for a cake. But it seemed more interesting eating it now that you had a million questions and it didn’t involve any cooking.

They knocked again.

You stood up and finally opened the door, and you saw him. You could tell he hadn’t slept either, for different reasons than yours, of course. He had that glow everybody talked about. And compared to you and your sweatpants, and your puffy eyes from crying.

You gave him a glance as you saw yellow flowers in his hands.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said as you tried closing the door but he stopped it.

“Y/n I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You crossed your arms.

“For—I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me Tom,” you said as you saw the pathetic excuse of flowers he was holding. “You ended up with another chick on a date? And you think I’m forgiving you with that?”

“Please it wasn’t even a real date.”

And those words stung, and the headache was back. Had you read all the signs wrong? Had he backed up because you’d been that bad of a date? Had he gotten bored.

“It wasn’t? It wasn’t?” Was all you could ask. “It was clearly a date Thomas! We’ve been—“

“Oh my god you thought this was real?” Tom chuckled.

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He threw his head back, and rubbed his eyes. “This was all part of the prank war we’ve got going on I thought you knew—“

Something didn’t add up. “You—this?”

“You’ve got to be shitting me y/n you thought this was real?”

“So what was exactly the prank, Tom?” You couldn’t believe him. Was the prank breaking your heart? He won. He had won. And you thought about it. It didn’t make any sense.

“You fell for it?”

“Tom, you’ve got to—But still, prank or not. That was shitty you fucking left me there and—“

Tom sighed as he walked into your apartment. “That was the fucking point, I left you for someone else, that was the prank.”

“What kind of shitty prank is that?” You yelled at him. “Who the fuck does that?”

He looked away. “The point was hurting you, I succeeded didn’t I?”

You were hurt. Even more hurt knowing that he had done this on purpose. What he fuck was wrong with him. You headed to the kitchen trying to catch your breath.

You stayed quiet for a bit, he could’ve grabbed a knife and stabbed you and it would’ve hurt less than this. He didn’t say anything, he was only staring at you. As if he was too proud of himself to admit he was sorry.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You couldn’t believe him. Worst part was you couldn’t even let him you had cried all night, you were so broken-hearted. You couldn’t believe he was doing this. And you didn’t believe him. He couldn’t have possibly planned this. Which made it even worse. Because if he’d seen the chance, it was because he probably didn’t like you the same way and chose instead to use your weaknesses once again against you.

He sighed as he looked around.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You repeated.

“I dunno, thought it would make you laugh and I didn't know you’d get this mad.”

You walked away to your couch.

“You’re an asshole,” you yelled. He followed after you.

“Y/N, come on I Said I’m sorry—“

You picked up a cushion and threw it ahim. “Oh my god leave, Tom! Get away from me. Leave me alone.”

He picked up the cushion and walked over. “No, I’m sorry… I’m not… gonna give this back,” he placed the cushion far from you.

But you threw another cushion at his face as he closed his eyes.

“Y/N, calm down,”he wanted as he saw you with the pint of chocolate icing and you hugged your third cushion. He sat across you, and then watched you, carefully. He did seem sorry, but you couldn’t quite believe him.

You only glared. There wasn’t really anything you could do. He seemed concerned, and conflicted. “Y/N I’m sorry,” his voice was softer as he approached you.

You stayed quiet again for quite a bit. Your thoughts mapping in your mind.

“Did you hook up with her?” You asked after a while of silence.

“Yes I did,”he looked away but then scrunched his nose. “But why do you care?”

You looked away. “I don’t.” But you punched him with the cushion.

“Y/N can you stop—“he frowned.

You only kept punching him, in all honesty it probably didn’t even hurt him. It was only your way to get out all of the anger.

“Y/N, are you done, now?” He asked before you threw it back at him.

“Then why the fuck did you ask me out?”

How were you supposed to react to this? How the hell were you supposed not to cry when it hurt so much? How were you supposed to keep watching him When you could barely breathe. You couldn’t let him see you cry.

“Because I thought you knew this was part of the prank war.”

“How the fuck—“

“Jesus y/n no,” he closed his eyes. “You thought this was real,” he said to himself.

“I didn’t.”

He watched you. “You did.” He stood up and rubbed his face. “Shit, now I do feel like a real bastard. Can you forgive me?”

“No.”

“Fuck, I bought you yellow flowers,” he said pointing at the flowers he’d left on your kitchen counter.

You laughed. “Ah that’s it, that’ll mend everything!”

He rubbed his face. “Oh my god y/n this comes back to you being the same damn fool.”

You stood up. “Excuse me?”

“You really thought I wanted to go out with you?” He watched you.

Of course everything made sense now. You were very stupid, you were a fucking fool for believing it. “No.”

“You’re still like that little girl thinking I could ever—Oh my god y:n, I thought we’d grown past that crush of yours,” he had changed his voice as he paced around the room. He walked around arrogantly.

“I don’t have a crush on you,” you snapped as you walked over. “Get out of my life.”

“Y/N love,” he reached for your hand but you snapped it off. Ldid you really think this would turn out—“

“No, but I can’t believe you’d be such a shitty person to fucking leave me in a place full of strangers and such a shittier person by making a prank that would hurt my feelings, you didnt but I can’t believe you even though of that.”

He looked away. “I’m very aware I didn’t hurt you. You were doing just fine with those green eyes.”

You let out a cynical laugh. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you Thomas. Get out of my life I can’t fucking stand you.”

“Y/N, I’m actually really sorry, can you—“

“No.”

He looked hurt now. But it seemed different as if he hadn’t meant whatever he’d said before. His eyes begged for forgiveness, but he spoke bullshit. Seconds ago he had been such an arrogant son of a bitch but now his sight was begging you to forgive him. But you knew better.

He tried taking your hands. “Y/N please—“

“No,” you pushed him away.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you this way.”

“What way were you trying to hurt me then?” You questioned as you stepped closer, he stepped back. “What the hell were you trying to do?” You walked back to the kitchen and stared at the yellow flowers.

“I—I don’t know,” he admitted. “Please, at least accept the flowers.”

You turned on the stove, took out your kettle.

“Y/N,” he sighed watching you.

“How the fuck did you go from hiding my spoons to wanting to rip my heart off?” You questioned him. “I’m not—I’m such an idiot believing we’d be friends. You’re right, I’m the biggest idiot for forgetting how big of an asshole you actually are.”

He didn’t say anything, and only pushed the flowers closer to you.

You stared at them, you grabbed them and started ripping off each and every one of the petals.

“Y/N—“

You only glared at him. You proceeded to take the kettle out of the fire and then burnt each and everyone of the petals.

He only watched you, he seemed disappointed. He stayed incredibly quiet. So cold to be watching.

When you were done, you scattered the ashes and placed them in a bag, and handed them to him.

“Get out of my life now.”

Of course you couldn't see yellow flowers from that moment on. And he had left without trying anymore. You had cried for months. Heartbreaks can be felt.

Something bright had come from that night, however. Timmy.

From them you had promised yourself you’d never fall for Tom again. You couldn’t. Your heart couldn’t bear it.

But now, you’d slept three times with him. Something had to go wrong. So there you were wondering what this could go wrong with him this time. What would he pull now?

Three things you remembered when you woke up.

Heartbreaks can be felt

Don’t fall back in love with him.

Having your heart broken by Tom had been the worst experience of your life and you didn’t want to go there again.

You didn’t remember when you fell asleep. You remembered talking all night long with him, showing him songs and forgetting about the world outside. But your heart ached, making you remember how he could hurt you again.

Even if you’d woken up in his arms, all cuddled up with clothes on, you knew this was going to go to hell. There was something about spooning with clothes on, somehow it made it more intimate.

You tried sitting up, as you tried rubbing your sore muscles from sleeping on the floor. Tom tried pulling you back to him, he was still fast asleep. It was pretty early. You reached for your phone, 9 am. You had many notifications, you checked Instagram first, your heart warmed up as you saw the pancakes. You kept going through your phone, ignoring the texts you were getting.

Your heart ached when you hovered Timmy’s name.

And it hurt to think that you’d let him go. It hurt to think that your feelings for the dumbass laying down beside you would ruin a relationship so pure.

Harry had texted you, several times. You finally opened the message to realize that now the Holland twins and now even your brother knew that your car was parked right outside.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then pushed Tom. “Tom. Tom! Tom” You shook him.

He groaned and only pulled you closer.

“Get off me,” you whispered as you kept shaking him. “Tom wake up!”

“Y/N,” he complained. “Five minutes more…” he said sleepily. “I’ll kiss you in a bit. Calm down.”

“What?” You frowned as you kept shaking him. “Get up, loser, we got caught.”

“Hm?”

“We got caught! Harry—“

Tom woke up immediately and sat up. “Harry?”

“Harry saw my car, they’re asking on the group chat and now they’re—“Your phone started to ring. “They’re calling me.”

“Fuck,” he looked at his phone. “Shit—And we have our breakfast.”

“What?”

“We were supposed to have breakfast as a family to wish Harry good luck, family things—“Tom Dan a hand through his hair. “Okay—So—“He looked over at you. “We—Okay, we aren’t exactly dressed for—“he looked over at you. “Okay—wow I can see those—“

You covered your chest.

“Tom.”

He smirked. “I’m not complaining,” he said, earning a slight punch on his shoulder.

“What’s the plan?” You asked him.

“Do you think they would be able to tell? Don’t you have anything magical in your backpack?”

“Makeup—?”

“Think makeup will cover up that red gorgeous thing?” Tom teased.

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, pushing him away. But he shuffled closer, placing his hands on your hips. “Tom, get your hands off me, and figure this out.”

He sighed. “Fine—I’ll—I’ll go in, and distract them, you’ll sneak to the bathroom and I’ll just—say I invited you for breakfast.”

“You’re—“You frowned. “Breakfast with your family after hooking up.”

He laughed, and then kissed your cheek. “Getting coupley are we?”

“No, go fix this shit.”

“Fine, I’ll say you came here to say goodbye to Harry.”

He leaned over for a kiss but you stopped him, placing your hand on his lips. He frowned but kissed your hand anyway.

“I’ll text you when the coast is cleared, then you’ll sneak” he warned as he carefully climbed down the treehouse.

You watched him not so sneakily get into the house. You took out your makeup bag to make sure there was no hint in your face that you’d slept with him the night before. You made it as natural as you could, but then you saw it on your neck, a place where Tom had not been able to separate from last night. A bright purple hickey, set on your collarbone. You cursed again and then covered it up. You couldn’t let the Holland’s see this. Not because it involved Tom, thing that you definitely didn’t want them to know. But still, you didn’t want them to know that you weren’t exactly the angel they thought you were.

You had to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You didn’t know what you had thought the night before. You were going to give in, to what? You’d already slept with him and had breakfast and two a.m. conversations. You took out the Polaroid of Tom and couldn’t help but smile just slightly, but the smile was quickly erased. You couldn’t go any further than that, you were on the edge now. You were exactly on the point where if you spent 10 more minutes alone with him and his stupid gorgeous face you’d fall. But you couldn’t. You had those 3 mental notes and you didn’t want to go to that place again. But this was the third time you slept together, you expected him to blow it up. What would he do?

But this felt different. And hell, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t addicted to his kiss. But no, this was wrong. You didn’t want to go there. You couldn’t do that to your heart.

Timmy had texted you again, begging for you guys to talk. He apologized for what he’d done. Hell, hours before you’d kissed Timmy too. It had been a pretty messed up 24 hours.

You were sick for doing what you’d done. You groaned as you ran a hand through your hair.

Tom texted you to carefully sneak into the bathroom, he had them covered and then he’d give an excuse.

You managed to walk into the house, but you caught a glimpse of Sam. You weren’t sure if he saw you, but he probably hadn’t.

Tom texted you again to come out and join them in the kitchen. Of course when you walked out you hadn’t expected to bump into the whole family when you walked into the kitchen.

“Oh, hi!” And suddenly you were very aware of your outfit. Your pair of sweatpants and white t-shirt was probably not an outfit that you’d be wearing any time. Except of course for a hookup. And it was very awkward seeing the whole family dressed up.

You only hoped they wouldn’t put two and two together.

“Y/N love, I’m glad you’re here,” Nikki said.

Dom smiled at you.

Sam was too busy making breakfast as you stared at Tom who seemed as nervous as you were.

“Yeah, I just… came here to say goodbye to Harry,” you grinned, as you looked around, looking for him.

Harry walked behind you and poked your sides, making you jump.

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t see you come in,” Harry pointed out, as he hugged you. “And I’m just surprised you’re not dressed as any of the characters from the Breakfast Club.”

You laughed. “I—Uh.”

“We went for a run,” Tom lied, intruding in. “Uh—well we no, I’m joking no—We were—going to go together to rehearse the—choreography for the movie.”

“Yeah, we were going to do that, but he suggested we go for a run.”

“You guys are getting along now?” Nikki chuckled.

Sam laughed. “Well, Toms paying her to get along.”

“I—well,” you chuckled.

Paddy walked into the kitchen. “Hello, y/n!”

“Hi, Pads.”

You turned to Harry. “So, you’re done packing? Are you ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—Im ready,” he grinned.

Tom licked his lips. “Well—you can say bye to Harry and then you’re gone, right? Bye y/n.”

“Ah, come on,”Dom frowned. “You’re joining us for breakfast.”

“I thought this was family breakfast,” Tom said.

“Yeah, yeah,” you gulped. “Yeah, it’s alright I was going to head—“

Nikki glared at her song. “Nonsense, Y/N’s like family, so, you’re staying right?”

The whole family stared at you.

“Well… alright?”

You ended up helping in the kitchen, Tom would smile at you from afar every now and then. But you were talking more to the twins, and remembering old anecdotes. They had you and Tom cutting some fruit, and you were even giggling. Smiling to each other. Too good to be true.

But every time you felt the butterflying on your stomach, you had to remember last time. But this was different, you weren’t in love with him. Or were you? But the problem was you knew him too well, and now every single damn movement he did would give you thoughts any lady shouldn’t have. His fingers were too interesting for you.

Of course he noticed, and he hid a snicker as he then smirked at you.

You had to stop and take a deep breath when his hand had landed on your waist to push you to the side. He only grinned and then headed to the table.

Sam approached you with a chuckle. “You guys are friends?”

“No,” you cleared your throat.

Sam laughed staring at you. “If I didn’t know any better—“

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sam smirked. “Just don’t forget I know both of you, y/n.”

You frowned as you watched him leave.

Eventually, you were all sitting down, you didn’t know why or who had changed the sitting arrangement, but Tom and you had ended up on the same side, together. The damn table, two people on each side. And out of everyone you were sitting with Tom.

They hadn’t pointed it out.

Your mind was going crazy. You were losing it, as you realized this was the second breakfast you were having with him. This was breaking all the rules. Especially since it involved his family.

Of course you didn’t expect what Tom was going to end up doing. His hand on your thigh, going up and down. Slowly. Fingers tracing its way, zigzagging up and down. Your eyes only widened as you tried shifting your way away from him. But he only chuckled.

Of course two could play at that game. Your own hand landed on his thighs, close to his bulge. He only coughed.

You had to be very sneaky. This was playing with fire. But your hand slowly rubbed his legs. But you had to be very careful. His parents and brothers were there.

But then he grabbed your hand and then kept holding it, rubbing your hand with gentle circles. You frowned watching him. You didn’t take it away.

And besides that, it was a lovely breakfast. Very nice conversation. You’d always loved the other Holland’s, excluding Tom of course.

But he had kept holding your hand. And only flashbacks were hitting you. It was a constant roller coaster of feelings between it making you blush and remembering the horrible experience you’d gone through.

But this meant something. You hoped. Maybe he was falling for you. Of course you didn’t want to scream victory, but at least you could write about it.

“So what’s the choreography going?” Asked Nikki. “What’s it like?”

“It’s… very 80’s,” Tom said, squeezing your hand.

You cleared your throat trying to pull away but he only squeezed it more and intertwined your fingers. You felt your chest jolt but then gulped.

“Yeah, very—I heard the director wants all Dirty Dancing kind of stuff,” you added.

“Oh, you should help him out then, y/n!” Sam chuckled. “I know for a fact that you know the whole choreographies in that movie.”

“Oh no, she knows the high school musical ones,” Harry laughed. “And sadly we know them too because you made us learn it.”

You grinned. “I’m glad.”

Somehow they continued complaining about it, and your other shenanigans you’d forced them to do while growing up.

“So, you guys are leaving too, right? In two weeks?” Asked Dom.

“Yeah, yeah, New York and Atlanta,” You confirmed.

“You guys are taking different planes right?” Sam laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on a plane with two young adults fighting.”

Tom laughed. “We are—friends now.”

Nikki grinned. “I actually can see that,” she pointed out. “By now you’d probably be stabbing each other with a fork.”

“Hm, thanks for the idea.” You laughed.

Tom grinned to himself.

Eventually, it was time for you to leave. They’d be getting Harry to the airport, and Tom asked you for a ride.

It had been weird saying goodbye to Harry and wishing him good luck when you really had a lot of stuff to talk about with him. It felt weird not being able to talk about it with anyone. You had your own thoughts to yourself. And you had to wish him good luck and you couldn’t really tell him that he had fucked up about Emma. Not that you would tell him anyways. It was weird that you knew you were hiding secrets from him.

You were driving, and your phone was ringing and ringing. Timmy.

You ignored it, you couldn’t answer in front of Tom. This was absolutely none of his business. But of course his eyes were glued to your phone.

He had stayed slightly quiet because you had been quiet. You were debating with yourself really. What would he do this time that he’d end up with more yellow flowers at your door with an empty apology?

“So—“

You didn’t say anything.

Tom only kept watching your phone. “Seems like Tim Shampoo really wants to talk to you.”

“Chalamet,” you corrected him.

“Champagne showers, whatever his fancy ass name is,” he rolled his eyes. “He really wants to talk to you.”

You eyed your phone. “Right.”

Tom scrunched his lips. “Aaaand he texted you.”

“Tom leave that alone—“

“Let’s see—He says: that he… is still thinking about that kiss,” his eyes widened.

You cleared your throat.

“What kiss?”

You didn’t answer.

“Y/N, what kiss?”

You looked at the road. “Do people not know how to drive?”

“Y/N. Did you kiss him?” He frowned.

“None of your business,” you whispered as you tried turning up the music.

He turned it off. “What?”

“It’s none of your business,” you pushed.

He coughed. “But what if I want it to be my business?”

You scowled. “Why would it be?”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Did you kiss him?”

You had just pulled over at his place.

“Y/N did you kiss him?”

“We’re here.” You stopped the car.

“Did you?”

And you saw the irony of it. How the tables had been turned? But were they?

You rolled your eyes. “He kissed me.”

“When?”

“After the party.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair. “And then you called me?”

You shrugged. “Yes. Does it matter?”

“I dunno,” he snapped. “How would you feel if I had kissed someone else then called you?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Disappointed but not surprised, sounds like some kind of shit you’d doze

Tom only stared at you. “No, y/n… but this, you should tell me that?”

You frowned. “Why?” You questioned him. “We are not friends, we are enemies who happened to be sleeping together.”

“Well but sleeping with you gives me some rights—“

“What?” You laughed. “What kind of rights? We are not exclusive and it was only a kiss.”

“But—“Tom gulped.

“You’re home Tom, get off my car,” you frowned.

“Okay what the hell is going on here?” He watched you. “you were being nice last night and this morning.”

“Well, we’re back to being aggressive,” you gulped. You knew you were defensive because you were too scared of Tom being nice and you were too scared of Tom wanting more. “sleeping together doesn’t change the fact that we hate each other.”

Tom looked away. “It doesn’t huh.”

“No.”

Tom watched you. “But don’t you think I deserve to know?”

“Why must you deserve knowing anything about me?” You snapped. “You’re gonna turn it against me anyway,” you sassed.

He looked hurt. “You really think I’m that kind of person.”

“I know you’re that kind of person,” you frowned..

He sighed. “Y/n.”

You threw your hands in the air. “I’m just waiting for it, Tom, when is it going to come? What’s the name of this game? What are you going to win?”

He didn’t say anything. “Y/n.”

“Seriously, Tom,” you sighed. “Get off my car, I don’t need to have this conversation with you.”

“I thought we were being nice,” he pointed out.

“I don’t trust you.”

He reached out for your hair. “Why are you being so defensive?”

You flicked his hand away. “Really, Tom? You ask that.”

“Well yes,” he growled. “Just last night we were kind of—having a moment?”

“Exactly and then you’ll turn into the asshole,” you sighed. You looked over at him. “I’m sorry if I can’t trust you. I don’t know why that is, maybe because you’ve proven to me many times how big of an asshole you can be so I’m just waiting for it, what’s it gonna be this time?”

“Nothing.”

“Well how do I know that?” You stared at the wheel. “I can’t trust you Tom, I really can’t trust you this time, but expect a text I guess I get bored.”

“No.”

You frowned. “No?”

“What if I want this to be different this time?” He sighed. “What if—“

“This time it’s different,” you admitted. “I won’t catch feelings for you.”

He clenched his jaw. “You’re right, I don’t know why we are having this conversation,” he said. “So, go and sleep with Timmy too if you want. I won’t care,” he said before finally getting out of the car.

“Fine,” you watched him walk away.

“Fine,” he yelled back.

“Fine.”You stared at his house.

Three times had you slept with him, and you’d been the one to fuck it up this time.

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

tag list @originalpinkpowerranger @spidxrparkxr @mukesnugget @anxiousdesignerdancerbandlover @organicpurplepants @happywolves81 @nedthegay @skylar-mendes @sentimentalquackson @savannah0111 @spidermansmj14 @soccerstud004 @marinaabernardii @applenter @silver-winter-wolf @dark-infernal-instruments @claredolphinbear24 @bookgirlunicorn @tomshufflepuff @avengersgirllorianna @nevertoofarfromivar @saintlavrents @herofiennestiffinashardinscott. @tomzfrog @tohollandback @morganhoran1671 @awkwardfangirl2014 @spideysimpossiblegirl @everythingbooknerd @xapham @xapham @xxtomxo @tomhollandisagod @danicarosaline @laurfangirl424 @vintageroses1014516 @cinnamon-roll-peter @the-lost-fairy-tale @lala-florez @fufaation15 @healthyassdonut @ilcveyou3000 @xxtomxo @socorroann @muffinmari25 @cassindeansass @rogers-obsessed-barnes-curious @southsidespidey @nathaliabakes @nathaliabakes @marvelstuck @embrace-themagic @bradfordbantams @sanniegirl1214 @softholand @peterpandco @fairytaleparker @underooling @griff1ndor @chubby-cheek-calum @thatweirdomimic @avengersgirllorianna @reginalaufeyson-holmes @better-daisy @yeahimcrying @allmonstersxarehuman @spider-manholland @itstaskeen @clairesrainbow @georiaang @sebxstianbarnes @kissingtrutharchives @snoopy3000 @prettymessygurl @spideyparkerstark @fanfic-4-you @lexshead @officiallyunofficialperson @mannien @whitewolfandthefox @melodiclovesong @bizzlepotter @localfangirlx @xxpeachyxo @acceptance07 @witchything @witchything @swaggyspiderman @localfangirlx @queengemsworld @liberty01 @stiles-banshees @itsjusttor @stretchkingblog97 @annathesillyfriend @dangerousluv1 @tomshufflepuff @thewayilookatbacon @petersdiaries @emjaywrites @swaggyspiderman @infamousmany @jungeunave @forevermore-euphoria @ispiderdudei @calhtlland @literalfsngirltrash @quacksonhq @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @desir-ae @pxkajesus @unbelievableholland @peterporkpie @justanotherusername80 @smolpeachees @thenoddingbunny-blog @quackeroos @spideyyeet @astoldbydanid @astoldbydanid @hollandcreep @milly7110 @iriaaarb @laurieteddy @rubberducky-jrr @rebekkah4766 @farfromtom @fancyxholland @seaveyheartful @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @coveredinthemessimade @shameless-self-promo-of-a-shrub @dreaming-lia @thatdamjoke @annathesillyfriend @l0ove-sick-blues @witchything @witchything @bookworm06 @sandtopearl @lala-florez @ohfudgeiamgorgeous @chaoticpete @shezzalocked @ @lowkey-love-loki @yoinkyourheart @cosmicholland @frenchfrostpudding @badbitchydecisions @w4ybefor3nir4na @americaswritings @ilovepeterparker13 @lukesbabylon @iamaunicorn4704 @simple-things @oh-annaa @herondale-snow-carstairs @sip-portteam @farialia @t-holland2080 @tony-starks-ego @quaksonhehe0 @stargazerholland @marvelslut-musicalnerd @hotrubycrab @sovereignparker @peter-parker-tony-stank-trash @belleknows @mysticalinsomniac @nycparkers @mysticalinsomniac @anythingthaticareabout @spn-assemble-seven @tanyalooovesyou @somethingchaotic @heartofholland @peachybloomss @youcompletemesk @emyla3305 @emyla3305–butt @hollandstanevans @farfromtom @ohmyquackson @southbeachfeeling @eridanuswave @tonguetiedholland @wolvesofthewinter @quacksonobrien @dcnerd98 @ifntelyinspirit @electraheart-3174 @julialucena5 @itsmilamawson @harryssuckz @unabashedlyhardkitty @xstarbae @tiredfeels @tiredfeels @peterbparkerrwrites @averyfosterthoughts @darethedragonknights @hannahholland1811 @justanamesstuff @abbiefangirls247 @myli-e @onewithnomightypowers @itscaminow @youllbemineandillbeyours @hotrubycrab @spidey-holland-96

#perfidy #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland and you #tom holland and reader #tom holland and y/n #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #tom holland angst #tom holland writing #tom holland story #tom holland series #tom holland ff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut

420 notes · View notes

slothgiirl · 3 years

Text

percolating gently (noah x mc)

au in which jane marshall lives and mc and noah and jane run off to live happily ever after a family of three and also smut (if you don’t want to read that skip the section that goes “its christmas, technically”.

title from a tennessee williams quote

15k

It's the three of them in the end. Jane. Noah. And you. Just like it started. Just like it had been.

Always you caught up between the two Marshall twins; Jane’s hand in yours gripping tight and never backing down as she poured water into dirt to make mud. At nine, and never having shared Jane’s attention before, Noah had snubbed you on more than one occasion, shooting down watching Resident Evil just because you had suggested it.

It was funny how you'd befriended Noah first. Jane had a fever the week your parents moved to Westchester (to study some microbe that was super rare or some other incredibly niche nerdy thing). You'd been left to roam the neighborhood on your own as per usual, drawing trees and pets you wished for in chalk, and then Noah.

Noah.

Redfield- Jane’s let up at least a little. You're no longer stuck to that awful chair in terror but griping Noah's shoulders, your fingers clutching the fabric of his denim jacket because he can't, you won't let him take her place.

He's been through so much already.

They both had.

“Noah,” you stammer out, chilled to the bone from terror or the fact that you were in a damp and freezing underground chamber--probably both. “Noah, you can't!” You tighten your grip on him even as his frown deepens, anger clear on his features as he glares down at you.

You cut him off before he can snap at you. Looking over at Jane, no longer blazing, but hovering around, a shadow spilling into the corners of the room, eyes a cold blue without an ounce of friendliness or curiosity.

“I'm sorry,” you tell her, because this was all your fault. You should've never encouraged her. You should've saved her. You should've done more: anything but brush the memory of her away instead of dealing with the events of that summer. Denial had long been your method of choice but here Jane was. It had all been real.

You owe her this much.

And Noah-

“I promised I'd be there for you,” you think of the whistle, “I promised I'd protect you so that's what I'm going to do now,” you say even as your hands shake. “Let me take your place.”

You move to stand, but Noah doesn't budge, his head shaking as his agonized wide eyes meet yours. There's always been a sincere quality in the warmth of Noah's brown eyes that put you at ease and had you feeling like you two were the only people in the world and you could never say no to him; not now. He's a mess (just how you feel), beanie about to slide off his tangled hair, tear tracks down his cheeks. There's a pull in your chest, the painful need to throw your arms around him and hug him until the world stops being this shitty but you doubt you'd ever leave his side if you hug him now.

Noah shakes his head. “It should be me,” he utters into the eerie acoustics of the chamber, the horror of the situation audible in his voice. “It should have been me then. I can finally make things right.”

Your lip grumbles as you cry out, “don't say that,” your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, “don't you dare say that bullshit Noah-we were kids! None of this,” you look around, look at Jane, “this shouldn't have happened to anyone. And it wasn't anyone's fucking fault!”

If-when you got out of this, you were going to throw hands with Mrs. Marshall.

You used to wish she’d been your mother.

The shadow that is Jane inches closer.

Right.

It had to be you or him.

His skin was warm against your hand and you don't-you don’t think you can live in a world where Noah isn't there and he's had the shittiest time and you could've reached out but you didn't and he doesn't deserve this because he thinks he deserves this.

Noah thinks he should've died.

Fuck.

This was all so fucked up.

“It's okay,” Noah whispers softly, his hand covering yours before gently removing your hand from his cheek, removing your hold on him. “It's okay.”

“But-” you look at Jane.

You didn't know what was worse, a world without Noah in it or a world where Noah became some twisted monster the same way Jane had over the years of loneliness. No one started out a monster.

You shake your head, reaching for Noah's hand, “I promised I wasn't leaving you again.”

His eyes widen in shock, giving him that doe eyes look that sort of made you want to kiss him, as if he'd forgotten all about that moment, as if he thought he wasn't worth it but Noah deserved more than death. He should get to go to culinary school and deal with shitty customers at Baby Jane’s.

And it was too late to save the day.

If you were being honest, it was nine years too late. It was all about doing the best you could in impossible circumstances because Jane didn't deserve to spend an eternity alone and scared and a monster either.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you swallow thickly before replying in a steady voice, having made your choice the moment Noah had been willing to go find Dan alone, when he'd opened up to you at the shop and you realized all this time it hadn't just been you dealing with the repercussions of Redfield, “Together.”

You weren't going to fail Noah again.

Noah is speechless.

But Jane was always able to go with the flow. A shadowy limb ghost over both your hands, in the vein of those cheesy moments in anime when a best friend speech got everyone through a big battle.

“Allll play too g etherR.”

“Yeah,” Noah says sadly, accepting that there was no version of this ending that didn't end in tragedy. “together.”

At least this way, you could be monsters together.

“It's okay Jane,” he tells his sister, his hand squeezing yours, “we’ll take over from here.”

You wake up cold, thinking that you'd left your bedroom window open (not that you were doing much sleeping in that room after the Dan night terror) again, but you're greeted with the sight of Jane curled up asleep between you and Noah looking the same as she had at the many sleepovers you'd have at their house. You don't know if she's real or if this is a dream or if you're dead and this is just a figment of your new reality, but you don't care.

Finally, you understand the ending of Inception.

You don't want to wake them up, still exhausted yourself, but Jane keeps shivering and you can only imagine how worried your friends were. Your phone’s dead.

You couldn't stay here.

“Noah,” you whisper, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “Noah…”

He grumbles in his sleep, but doesn't wake up.

“Noah,” you hiss.

“What,” Noah slurs, shifting as he lifts his head, jostling Jane at his side but your friend who was dead, was previously dead, continues to sleep looking like a particularly angelic little girl.

You can tell when the situation dawns on him: the twitch of his lips as his mouth settles into a frown, brows becoming drawn in thought.

It's day outside.

You're not sure which day.

Noah's phone is also dead.

Both of you stumble through the woods half asleep, Noah carrying Jane as if she was the most precious thing in the world which she was because she had been dead but now she wasn't and you were beginning to hope this was real and not a trick and that Jane was getting a shot at a normal childhood.

“We should go to my house,” you offer, keeping your voice low as to not disturb Jane who continued to sleep, no wonder Andy and Ava had been able to draw so many mustaches on her back in the day. “It's closer.”

And also you had no way of explaining how Jane had suddenly come back to life. That was something to process later. First a warm bed and sleep and then you had to let your friends know you weren't dead and figure out the whole Jane being alive with Noah. But first, sleep.

“Yeah, okay,” Noah answer’s, clearly still in shock. “Sounds good.” He says as if you two were discussing the weather and not sudden resurrection.

Then again, was this really that big of a leap considering everything that happened in the last few months?

You kick off your shoes and curl up with the Marshall twins to sleep.

“Why are you so much taller,” Jane asks once you’ve all woken up and yes, Jane’s still there, flesh and blood and the idea begins to solidify that she’s alive and well, well maybe not, you don’t know how much she remembers if at all and you still don’t know what to do with her but for now Noah’s rifling around your sparse kitchen, sending you a judgemental look at the half empty pancake box mix that expired a month ago but there’s no gross mold or anything so he uses it anyway, unwilling to leave Jane alone for a second.

Noah smiles easily, which has you smiling, “I’m not tall,” he replies to his sister, “you just shrunk.”

She frowns, nose wrinkling and you had forgotten she did that when she was upset, her nose wrinkling up as her lips turn downward. It was adorable. Then in classic Jane fashion she decides, “that’s a lie.” And sticks her nose up in the air, her fingers continuing to do whatever in your hair. It feels nice, her small fingers weaving clumsily through your thick hair, but Jane had never actually learned to braid so you’re pretty sure she’s just tangling your hair up but you wouldn’t refuse Jane anything right now.

It’s been days since the dance.

You have countless missed calls from your friends, texts getting increasingly and increasingly panicked, and nothing from either of your parents.

“Turn around,” Jane squeaks, tapping your shoulder urgently.

“Alright, alright,” you say, shifting in your seat. She’s tiny. All red hair and freckles and she hasn’t left your side since waking you up, knees in your side as she’d yelled that she was bored and wanted to play so loud it had woken Noah up.

Jane looks at you with a frown. “You’re big too.” Then her lower lip wobbles.

Shit.

Hastily, you pull her onto your lap, wrapping your arms around her.

“Why am I still small,” she whispers, looking up at you with the same wide brown eyes you were so used to.

“Uh,” you swallow thickly, trying to figure something out because maybe she didn’t remember and wasn’t that for the best? Wouldn’t that be the best case scenario? The only problem is you’re barely eighteen and not at all prepared to handle a nine year old. Had you really been this small when your parents decided to fuck off? “It’s because. . .you’re special, like Peter Pan.”

She crunches up her nose for a second, thinking. Then in her child innocence, she nods, deciding she likes the explanation. “You should’ve come with me,” Jane pats your cheek sadly, “grown ups are so boring.”

Noah wheezes, a pancake slipping off the spatula as his shoulders shake with laughter.

You hadn’t had time to talk about what had happened, what he had done, and you certainly hadn’t had time to process your feelings on any of it, but you were always glad to see him laughing.

“Someone had to take care of your dumb brother,” you reply, legs kind of going numb with her weight.

Jane nods sagely, “Noah is dumb. Because he’s a changeling.”

When you were kids, you’d both been obsessed with goblins and trolls and fairy tales. You two would dig in the dirt looking for hag stones. Sticks would double as magic wands and swords. The old fur jacket Jane liked to play dress up with was her selkie skin and you would take turns hiding it around the house.

Noah rolls his eyes. He hadn’t liked your weirdo kid games the first time around, he liked them even less now and you can’t help but grin at his expense. “You’re the redhead in the family.”

Jane blows a raspberry.

What a way to win an argument.

It’s past midnight before Jane crashes.

You’re on your third watch of frozen which had seemed like a great way to keep Jane inside the first time when you’d suggested it (kids loved that movie) and had become the worst, as Jane made you watch the movie again and again, singing “do you want to build a snowman” at the top of her lungs. That hadn’t stopped you and Noah from helping her find all the pillows in your house to build a castle with. Your living room has become a pillow castle fort.

During the second watch, Jane had dug around through your closet, before finding a blue hoodie you didn’t even remember you had and tying it around her shoulders. “You’re Anna,” she’d told you, giving you pigtails when she gave up on braids.

Now, she was asleep on the couch, drooling on her pillow.

Noah immediately turns off the TV. “You couldn’t have put on Shrek?”

You’re sitting next to him on the floor, finally giving into the urge to look at the news on your phone. You hadn’t risked it while Jane was awake. She was a nosy child.

You frown, “we need to tell the others.” Because this was really happening. Jane was alive and you didn’t know what to do with that. She needed. . .fuck-she needed school and parents and probably therapy if she remembered any of it. You were just eighteen. You had no idea what to do.

Noah’s responding frown mirrors yours. “What? Why!”

“She just came back from the dead,” you reply quietly. “She needs-fuck what are we going to tell your mom?”

His expression turns angry, brows furrowing. “Fuck her. She doesn’t deserve to know.”

“Noah,” you sigh, not wanting to argue with him because what was there to argue. His mom was a shitty parent. “Dan, Andy. . .they think we’re dead. They deserve to know after what happened. They deserve an explanation.”

He flinches.

“And besides-we’re in high school! What are we-what the hell are we going to do with her,” you say gently because you couldn’t keep her cooped up in your house. You had things like high school and maybe college if you could salvage this quarter. You didn’t have a job. “She needs parents. And school. And. . .” You throw your hand sup in the air. You had no clue what she needed. You weren’t a functioning adult. You didn’t know what kids need.

“She has me.” Noah hisses back.

You roll your eyes. “I know that-fuck Noah,” becuase he was getting angry with you when all you were trying to do was help. God, he could be so freaking dense sometimes. “She deserves a normal childhood. How the hell are we supposed to do that for her? Does she remember any of it?” You cross your arms over your chest and stare at your feet. The garish pink nail polish was still intact.

Didn’t people need birth certificates and stuff?

Lucas would know.

Lily could probably do her computer thing and help with that.

He falls silent, glaring at the blank TV screen.

Noah’s breathing is harsh and you wait patiently.

“I can drop out,” Noah finally says quietly. “Get a job. . .”

“I’m going to call Lily,” you reply. “We need groceries anyway.” Like hell were you leaving Jane for even a second. This time, you mean to keep your promise.

Jane bursts into tears when she sees all her friends grew up without her, eyes turning red as tears streamed down her eyes and she buried her face in Noah’s chest, refusing to budge. He rubs his hand comfortingly against her back, carrying her upstairs.

Even from the living room, still a mess, you can hear her sob upstairs.

“What the absolute fuck,” Lucas utters, taking a seat, resting his head in his hands.

“Explain,” Stacy urges, already unpacking the groceries you’d requested into your kitchen.

You do.

You go over the last couple of days, most of which you spent sleeping.

“I think it says a lot about how fucked our lives are that this is only like the second craziest thing to happen to us,” Andy mutters, pacing around the room. “I mean,” he says stopping near the kitchen island, “the whole town got brainwashed!”

“Does-does she remember,” Lily asks.

You shrug, “I. . .I don’t think so. Clearly she doesn’t know why we’re all older. Maybe it’ll come back to her?” You hope it doesn’t.

“So what are we going to do,” Lily says, looking around at everyone.

Dan speaks up, “Jane could have blocked out those memories. My therapist said that can happen with traumatic events.”

“That makes sense,” you find yourself saying, slumping in your seat. You think you could just finish high school at home. It’s not like your parents would know, or care. They’re not here. That way Noah can finish high school and you can look after Jane. But then what?

“Just so we’re all on the same page,” Ava asks rhetorically, “we’re just going to ignore the fact Noah tried to kill us?”

You flinch.

“Jesus fucking christ Ava,” Andy snaps, looking just as agitated as you’ve all felt for months.

“One crisis at a time,” Stacy complains, closing the cupboard door with a hard thunk, “I can only handle one crisis at a time.” Then she looks over at you, “are you-is. . .you can stay at my house if you need to.” No one suggests Noah and Jane going to their own house.

You shake your head.

At some point, you were going to hash things out with Noah, but it wasn’t exactly anger at Noah that you felt. It was hurt and the raw heart crushing betrayal. You know you hadn't been there for him when he needed you--for years-- but you thought, you wish he had just told you about Jane being Redfield.You would have helped, you would have done anything to help Noah and Jane and maybe no one would’ve needed to play are you scared at all. Fuck.

But no. You don’t feel scared at being here with him which was what Stacy was asking about. It hadn’t even crossed your mind even once.

But it feels too private to tell them that the three of you have been inseparable since the ruins. You’d spent last night curled up on the living room floor with him. But that knowledge was yours. You weren’t about to share that.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” You don’t feel fine. “She can’t stay in Westchester can she?” Because you’re tired and want someone else to tell you what to do for once.

“Probably not,” Lucas answers tightly, still looking freaked out, eye twitching.

“It’s not a trick or anything. . .” Andy glances around.

You shake your head. Slowly, a plan forms in your head. Your parents would pay for your college, you’d apply out of state and take the Marshall twins with you. Instead of a dorm, you’d get an apartment. It could work.

Somehow.

“Have your parents called,” Dan asks gently.

“No,” you wave off. They weren’t important. Jane was.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to explain this,” Andy asks.

You wince. “Sort of. . .I don’t know.” You put your hands in your head.

It's Ava who wraps her arm around your shoulders, “we’ll figure this out.”

“Thanks.”

It's a familiar type of awful that Noah’s mom doesn’t really care that he’s spent the last six months living at your house.

With a great deal of arguing at 2 in the morning while lying next to a sleeping Jane, you’d managed to convince Noah to finish high school. And you’d promptly switched to homeschooling.

Lily had come through with Jane’s paperwork, now in your bag as your friends drop you off at the nearest regional airport.

You hold Jane’s hand, the only thing keeping her from running off as she takes the sight of the airport in. She’s thrown countless fits about being cooped up. But it was too risky for her to be seen in Westchester, a small town where everyone knew she’d died. The most you could do was your backyard.

So of course you’d made up for it by letting her pick your college.

“Someplace warm and sunny,” Jane had shouted excitedly, mind going crazy with plans as your acceptance letters came in.

Months on, it’s way less awkward even if Ava and Lucas have settled on ignoring Noah.

Andy hugs you hard. “Call when you land!”

You snort, “duh.”

Lily smiles and adds, “I might visit for spring break.”

“That would be great,” you tell her, tightening your hold on Jane as something catches her attention.

She pivots to Noah, who had the backbone of a toothpick when it came to telling Jane no which is why she keeps getting to skip brushing her teeth in the morning which was gross and she hated you for trying to chase her down, “I want that stuffed animal. If you give me that narwhal, I’ll eat my veggies.”

“You’re eating your veggies anyway,” you reply back, dragging her along.

“You won’t have to watch frozen tomorrow.” She continues, targeting her brother ruthlessly.

Noah’s already fishing his wallet out.

“That’s what you said about the hair color,” you point out, opting to carry her when she goes limp. “Don’t you dare Noah.”

Ava grins at you, amused and unhelpful.

“It’s just a toy,” he replies.

You roll your eyes.

“You two are such parents,” Andy laughs.

“I hate you,” Jane huffs. “We’re not friends anymore.”

“She told you,” Ava snorts.

Jane beams. Then reaches for Noah, who takes her from your arms without complaint.

You hug Lily one last time, and then. . .you’re going through security.

“I get the window seat,” Jane declares once you get past TSA.

“Go for it,” you tell her, belatedly realizing it’s going to be hell if it turns out she doesn’t like planes.

She nods, satisfied.

Tampa is no less humid and hot and awful a month in then it was when you first got off the plane but Jane loves it and there’s a park next to the building your living in: a tiny cramped apartment with only one room which went to Jane obviously which you and Noah had originally planned for you and Jane to share but both of you had capitulated to Jane’s demands within the day. She deserved being spoiled.

The A/C in Ikea was a godsend.

Sleeping on the floor with the bare necessities was not it and with you starting school next week, it was time to take your meager savings and get some furniture.

“Remember,” Noah says, pulling up the list on his phone. It had started with him grocery shopping since he cooked and needing to make a grocery list to Noah just taking over figuring out how to make the money your parents sent and his own contribution from his new job work. “Sofa bed. Bed for Jane. Blankets. One lamp. And a mattress.”

“Weren't you complaining about only having one pan this morning,” you ask as Jane drags you along to the first showroom, practically bouncing with energy.

Noah shrugs. “I can make it work.”

“Buying an extra pan won't kill us,” you counter. “We can just use my credit card.” And not eat out for the rest of the month, you didn't add.

“Let's play hide and seek,” Jane says with excitement. “I'll seek.”

You exchange glances with Noah.

Tomorrow you had to go sign her up at school. You had to go over the story with her again. Just to make sure you didn't all get in trouble.

Jane covers her eyes. “One. Two. . .”

You look around the tiny space, thinking of where to hide. Between school and Jane you weren't sure when you could or even if you could get a part time job. Noah was working at a diner during the evenings. You had gotten your classes early in the morning so you could be home with Jane while he worked. The problem was finding the extra free time to work.

Ugh.

Being an adult was hard.

But how much of an adult could you be when your parents were paying your tuition?

You head for the tiny bathroom which has a neat looking toothbrush holder and isn’t that something you need to buy? There were so many little things like a bath mat and towels and a dish rack that were only just occurring to you that were sort of essentials and jeez you really had one foot in adulthood. You don’t even hide behind the curtain, worried that Jane won’t find you easily and freak out and there’s weirdos everywhere. It was your job to look after her now. Not that Noah had asked for your help, but it was a given.

“Eight. . .nine. . .” Jane’s little voice carries and you’re struck by a flood of emotions that has your eyes tearing up.

Noah steps into the bathroom next to you, “we need a cutting board,” he says so seriously you can’t help but snort.

“What,” he asks, shaking his head at you.

“Nothing.”

He tilts his head.

You shrug, “just thinking. I don’t know. I don’t feel very grown up. And I took all the dumb towels my parents stockpiled for granted.”

“We should’ve raided your house,” he agrees, the corner of his lips lifting, “purge style.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “I never get why everyone jumps straight to murder. What does Ava always say? Redistribute the wealth, rob a bank.” You roll your eyes, scoffing, “murder.”

Noah snorts. “Pretty sure that’s Lucas. Ava’s more of a go straight to cutting people’s heads off.”

“Robespierre style,” you grin.

“Robes who?”

“Robespierre. From the french revolution.”

“I think that’s the class I must’ve ditched,” Noah admits.

You frown. “You could do community college,” because you had to corner him at some point. Noah was very good at avoiding subjects he didn’t want to talk about. “We could make it work. Do your G.E.’s”

Noah shrugs.

“Noah-” Because he said he wanted to go to culinary school and you get the urge to drop everything and buy a ranch in utah and live with Jane for the rest of your lives except Jane would hate that and grow up and leave and how are you going to afford spoiling her if you can’t get a decent job? Noah deserved to go for his dreams too.

None of you had to be defined by your incredibly shitty childhood.

Jane pops in, “found you!” She giggles in her Baby Yoda t-shirt and leggings, “you two are bad at this game! My turn!” Jane grabs Noah’s hand and drags him along to the next showroom that catches her eye, “remember,” she lectures you both, “no peeking,” before shooting off.

“What did you end up choosing for your major,” Noah asks, as you both fail to keep your eyes closed, looking over at the sofa section. It would be so freaking nice not to sleep on the carpet anymore.

“History,” you admit, “though I’m not sure it’ll stay like that. I don’t know exactly what I want to do after college. Or if I even like history enough to major in it. . .it just sounded fine at the time.” You had done well in APUSH. That had to mean something. But you had also liked your economics class. . .maybe you should do economics? “I really have no clue. Has it been ten seconds?”

“Probably,” Noah says with a smile, “nine, ten, coming to find you,” he calls out.

It’s a living room showroom, and yet Jane had managed to squeeze herself right behind a floor lamp and the TV stand. She’s a slip of a girl, but her red hair makes her easier to spot. Thank god.

“Let’s go pick out things for your room,” you offer, because you still have to go downstairs and find all the different pieces and then still go home and put them together. Thank god for uber. Oh shit, did this mean you had to get a car at some point? How do people buy cars?

“Okay,” Jane nods, immediately taking off, and she has you and Noah speed walking after her, on the border of a full out run. It was hard to be annoyed when you were still so happy to wake up in a world where Jane was alive and here and who cares that it took three hours to get her to stand still long enough to comb her hair and putting her to bed was a long drawn out affair of a bedtime story and a snack and needing to be tucked in and checking on all her toys and deciding she needed a glass of water next to her just in case she woke up thirsty.

It was worth it.

You liked not living alone.

You liked not being alone.

You weren't sure who was more exhausted as you finished washing the dishes. Jane was sleeping, thank god. The nice thing about Florida was it was fall and it was still warm enough to spend the evening at the park so Jane could tire herself out while you read fifty pages of your history and sociology textbook. It was what all the other moms did and you winced when Jane asked to join the soccer team that practiced at the park by your building because you didn't have the money and you could only hope she didn't ask Noah because he came home tired enough but for Jane he'd take more shifts.

There was laundry you didn't want to do and a quiz in english which was a nice class even if everyone was half asleep at 7:30 in the morning because your professor was somehow awake enough to engage and rant about short stories that thankfully weren't the same ten dead old white men you'd read in high school but actual people alive today whose english you could understand. It's night, so you don't bother drying the dishes before turning off the light. Noah had brought food which showed how tired he was. Yesterday's leftovers had saved you from attempting anything because you sucked in the kitchen as your poor microwave could attest: aluminum foil and microwaves don't mix.

Noah’s already asleep when you slide into bed next to him. You can still smell the scent of oil and grease on his skin even as you stay decidedly on your side of the bed.

It's mid september in Tampa and it's still warm and it doesn't stop you at all from curling up with a blanket.

The window panes are cracked open letting in the soft moonlight and you lay in bed, brain melted from class and reading, and look at Noah's profile and how much lighter he looked compared to a year ago. The lines around his mouth from frowning had eased; Jane teasing out a side of him that had previously shriveled up.

It's done him good to get away from his mom. To have his sister. You just wish you could do more for him.

Like he was doing for you and Jane.

You drift off to sleep. . .

“Move over,” a small voice asks, and your eyes crack open to the dark of the room and Jane a hair's breadth away with wide scared eyes, a pillow hugged to her chest. Her voice is raw, as if she'd been crying.

You move over, brain sleep addled, to make room for her.

She slips in besides you, immediately curling up in your chest the way she does when she decides she's done walking for the day: the way she runs up to Noah when he gets home from work.

“Did you have a bad dream,” you mumble, not wanting to wake up her brother.

“I don't know.” Jane admits, “I just don't want to sleep alone.”

“I thought you wanted your own room,” you tease, a little more awake now.

“I do,” she cries out loudly in the dark of the night.

You can just imagine her pouting even if you can't see her, your eyes falling shut again. “Okay. You can sleep over tonight.”

“Yay,” she whispers back. “We should draw a mustache on Noah.”

You snort, “too late. He hasn't bothered shaving in like two days.” It was a good look on him: stubble. You'd teased him ruthlessly, almost choking on your water when he'd gone pink.

Jane giggles.

“Go to sleep,” you tell her. “You have school.”

“So do you.”

“Sleep.”

“Tell me a bedtime story.”

“Jane,” you whine, rolling over away from her, because she sure wasn't going to stop. “Sleep.”

“Where the fuck are my shoes,” Noah says, as he stumbles around trying to find his things.

You should've folded the laundry last night. Instead, it was a pile on the floor, clean, but a mess. You had parent teacher conferences today, and of course you were rushing at the last minute. Between finishing a paper for sociology and ditching class because of the conference and it's not like your statistics professor took roll call, you were still in a towel, freshly showered.

“Check the hall closet. I told Jane to clean last night and I'm like one hundred percent sure she just stuffs everything in that closet. Dan's right, we're fucking her up by spoiling her too much.” You search the pile of clothes for a nice dress. Was that right for a parent teacher conference? You were 18, what did you know? Besides, you were like guardian adjacent. Not a parent.

“Okay,” Noah replies when you hear the door open and why can't you find any clean underwear, you just did laundry this is insane and you have like five minutes to leave or you will be late, “but why'd she only put away one shoe?”

“Don't goblins only steal left shoes or something,” you reply, finding clean underwear but giving up on the bra. You'd go with a blue and white plaid dress. It wasn't too revealing for school even if it was one of those back of the closet dresses you never actually wore.

You slip your underwear on under the towel as Noah reappears in jeans and a t- shirt, freshly shaved. “What if they ask too many questions?”

“They won't,” you wave off. “And if they do we can just lie.”

“You're a bad liar,” Noah teases, rifling around in the kitchen.

You toss the towel aside, trying incredibly hard to act cool and calm when you weren't anything but, as you go to pull the dress over your head. It's not like you were flashing him. You sleep next to Noah every night.

But then why did you feel so flustered right then. “Am not!” You squawk indignantly, turning over to look at him as your dress goes over your head and your boobs are no longer hanging out for the world to see (there was a point to curtains after all).

Noah goes bright pink when he realizes your half naked in the living room, as if he hasn't slept next to you for close to a year now but then again, you used to sleep in an old shirt and underwear and now you've got matching pjs because Noah and yeah you should probably do something about that like you had wanted to since the party ages ago now but there had been Redfield and Noah admitting he was in a terrible headspace and it wasn't the time and now. . .you brush the thought aside for now. You roll your eyes (because your cool and calm even if your heart’s beating erratically) and grab your purse, before joking, “so are you going to get a haircut or are you going to do the man bun thing.”

Noah groans, “Jane told me I looked like homeless dog.”

“Ouch,” You laugh, “when she say that?”

“She woke me up again last night but I got her to go to her bed this time.” He admits as you walk to Jane’s school.

“Again?” Fuck maybe she was having nightmares after all. “It has to be nightmares, but. . .” you trail off.

“I don't know,” Noah shrugs, “she says she doesn't remember. Just wakes up. But like why else would she keep waking up if it's not nightmares,” he frowns.

“Do you think they could be,” you purse your lips before continuing not wanting to be the one to bring it up but you sort of had too, “you think it's redfield related.”

“I really don't know,” he says, looking over at you with a sad smile.

Smiling softly, you squeeze his hand as you wait for the white pedestrian sign, “hey, she's got us. She'll be fine.”

Which makes you think about how Andy was right. You were such a mom. Had you mom-zoned yourself? That was good, you'd have to text that to Andy later.

Then you sigh, realizing that if you had a nightmare back then, your parents wouldn't have even been home for you to wake up. There had been weeks spent at Pine Springs and driving over to some niche science conference in Rochester or over to New Haven for a lecture.

“What,” Noah asks, intertwining your fingers with his as you cross the street.

“Just realizing how shitty my parents were,” you offer with a sad smile. What could you do about it now? You'd grown up.

“Just now,” Noah quips with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, “shut up.”

Jane’s teacher, an older black woman who's style leans close to Lily's own preppy academic choices, looks at you both skeptically. “You’re here for Jane Marshall's conference?”

Both you and Noah nod.

She doesn't look reassured.

You bump Noah's knee with yours, hoping he'll say something to clear things up. Neither of you looked old enough to be her parents. You had a serious case of baby face.

“Uh,” he says, still an eighteen year old who's spent most of his life bowing down to teachers authority. You understood, still feeling strange going to the bathroom during lecture without asking for permission. “I'm Jane’s brother.”

You nudge him again when it's clear he's done taking.

“Noah,” he manages.

You roll your eyes. “We’re her guardians,” you had gone over the story hundreds of times, “their parents passed,” you look down at you lap trying to look sad, “a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Jane’s teacher, Miss Sanders, says sympathetically. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah well,” Noah trails off.

“Well Jane is a very outgoing girl,” Miss Sanders says, launching into her talk, “she's made lots of friends though sometimes getting her to be quiet during class time can be a challenge. She's at her grade level for reading and math. She does need more practice with writing longer sentences and,” she shuffles papers around, flipping through a red folder, before taking out some childish drawings. “These had me worried but in light of the loss she is going through, I think it's understandable.”

Each drawing is a variation of a theme: huge black blobs make up most of the page, with occasional stick drawings differentiated by hair color. Jane is obviously the girl with the red hair and triangle body. Redfield, she remembered something then.

Could it be subconscious?

You feel the blood leave your face as you look over at Noah. He looks just as shaken as you.

“It's normal for children going through the loss of a loved one, especially parents,” Miss Sanders tries, “to work through it in drawing and writing. But we could always let her talk to the school psychologist. Mrs. Hernandez is a wonderful child therapist.”

“Do you think it would help,” you ask, wondering if it was a good idea when Jane’s actual problem was of the supernatural variety. Maybe they would just assume that was her imagination, or her way of explaining away a loss.

“It couldn't hurt.”

You look over at Noah, slipping your hand into his, giving him an encouraging squeeze in his palm. It was his sister. It should be his call.

He pulls his hand out of yours, straightening up in the chair. “Yeah. That could be good.”

“Okay. I'll let Mrs. Hernandez know. That and make sure Jane’s reading books for AR. Her goal this year should 40 points if she wants to be part of the end of the year celebration.”

“I'll figure out where the library is,” you nod, “I'm sure she can find books while I study.”

“Sounds perfect. Any other questions.”

You look at Noah who shakes his head. He was starting to need a haircut. Even if you did like the way he looked with his hair loose.

“Alright then. It was lovely to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Marshall.”

“Oh,” heat builds up in your cheeks.

“We're not-”

“I'm not-,” you stammer, “I'm just a family friend.”

“Oh,” Miss Sander says, “I'm-sorry for assuming.”

“It's fine,” you manage, starting to leave. “Thank you. It was good to meet you.” You shake her hand, wanting to die inside.

“Nice to meet you as well,” she shakes Noah's hand and then you can finally leave.

You both hurry out the classroom, out the school.

“So that was,” Noah says, raising a brow.

“awful,” you finish. “But there were no red flags and we got free therapy out of it.”

Noah laughs, “I think we probably all need some therapy.”

“Rewatching arrested development isn't cutting it anymore,” you grin.

“I do feel like Gob most days.”

“Good,” you laugh.

“Really?”

“I don't trust people who identify with Michael. No self awareness.”

Noah laughs, “they are all horrible people.” His face becomes drawn, as he tucks loose strands of hair behind his ears. “How much do you think she remembers?”

You shrug, placing your hand on his arm. “I think it's probably bits and pieces. She did spend years and...she doesn't have nightmares? That's a good sign right? It's been months, she's not some creepy horror movie child?”

“Of course not,” he nods, looking down at you, with a frown. “She's fine. Jane's good.”

You smile shakily. “We're doing amazing. And she's happy if she hasn't stopped watching disney vlogs. No clue how we're going to swing that one if she asks.”

Noah matches you’re unsure smile, “take her to those rich people parks and call it disney.”

You snort. “It's Jane. That won't fool her.”

“It's Florida. We can just go to the beach.” He says with a shrug. “It'll be just as good.”

“Aren't there alligators though?”

Noah laughs at your expense. “Those are in the lakes and rivers.”

“Shut up. Want to go for pizza before you go to work?”

“Let's go get Indian food actually. There's this place I've been meaning to try but Jane’s-”

“Picky as fuck,” you say pointedly. “Like you used to be.”

Noah blushes. “Okay so my mom just cooked like kraft mac and cheese. That wasn't my fault.”

“And those pizza bites! I loved those,” you add, thinking back on all the sleepovers at their house as a kid. “I think when Jane came over was the only time I'd get to use peanut butter.” Your parents weren't around, but your nanny was philippina, you ate spice before kids discovered hot cheetos were delicious.

He snorts, running a hand through his hair. “We should probably get a car at some point.”

“Face it bro, we're broke. I keep wanting to tell you to get a haircut but we're broke.”

Noah raises a brow. “Fuck off. I look like post-Beatles George Harrison.”

“You wish you looked like George Harrison,” you tease.

The food was amazing. Lunch indian buffets were where it was at. And since you don't have a class right after, you offer to walk Noah to work, “I've got to walk off the food baby,” you tell him, before you head back to pick Jane up.

Noah laughs, “The malai kofta was just too good.”

“I should've stopped at three plates but buffets always make me think it's a food contest,” you admit. “My nanny would take me to this seafood buffet with her family around lunar new year and we’d spend all day there to try and eat our money's worth.” It had been your favorite holiday as a child, after your parents had decided you were old enough to be left behind, only a handful of years after they decided you were old enough to bring along with them, and you hadn't seen them even at christmas.

“Damn,” Noah says with an easy smile, “at least I had good times with my parents.” His smile is so fragile. That just means it hurt him more when things fell apart.

“I had nice times too. . .with your family.”

Noah cackles.

You cross the street to the diner he works at next to a retirement complex with what you think are the best waterfront views next to the hotels you can't afford.

It's strange.

Your entire life, Noah has been this huge part of it and you've always lived in a tiny town so you knew everyone he did and knew what he got up to just by living near him in a town of like 500 people or what felt like such a small amount, your elementary school only had one class for each grade but now you hug Noah goodbye even though he always tenses against you, as though he's unused to the physical affection and that just makes you hold him tighter, then he's heading inside and greeting people you probably will never know and he's having this whole part of his life your not a part of and one day he's going to go on and live his life without you and it hurts: watching him laugh with some waitress that's tall blonde and beautiful in a way you've never been.

It hurts but you suck it up and go pick Jane up from school.

“Don’t worry,” your friend says, holding your hand once she realizes you've been standing at the water's edge. It's warmer than you'd imagined as it laps at your bare feet.

Jane has not stopped smiling since you'd bought her a bathing suit at Target: a pink one piece with sloths. You'd been more nervous, not knowing how to swim. You also felt every single bite of pasta you'd had last night in your black bikini.

Damn Noah for being so good at cooking.

“I've got you,” Jane says, leading you out further into the water, over to where Noah's out, up to his waist and you're pretty see it's deeper than Jane is taller, but if Jane can do it-a wave, a massive looking wave comes crashing towards you both.

You don't hesitate to run away.

Noah points and laughs.

You flip him off once the wave passes, leaving your hair wet.

Jane grins. “It's okay. I won't let you drown.” She pulls you back out again, a perfectly happy water baby. She always had been fearless. And unlike you, as the water deepens, she starts to swim alongside you.

“See,” she laughs, “it's easy.” Then she pops down under.

You make it to Noah, figuring the water wasn't that crazy. No tsunami like waves to pull you out to sea and drown you.

Jane comes up for air, “I'm Jaws,” she yells at Noah, tackling his side.

“Ooof,” he says, exaggerating, “oh no, a shark, I'm. . .dead dying. . .”

Jane giggles.

“Do not,” you warn her. “I'm barely here as is.”

Noah rolls his eyes and you have a feeling there about to roast you: both of them.

“It's just a little water,” he teases.

“It's not even that deep,” Jane adds. “It's the beach!” She pops back down under the water as another wave rolls towards you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, tensing, as the wave soaks what's left of your dry hair, splashing salty water into your mouth.

Jane pops her head back up, strawberry hair plastered to her head, smiling so wide. It's November and it's still warm enough to go to the beach. Even the rain here isn't cold that way it was back home.

The world was so much bigger than Westchester.

Noah reaches his hand out to yours. You take it easily, stepping closer to him, pushing your wet hair out of your face.

He had the right idea, now looking more like the fifth beatle than a shaggy haired hippie. Less to deal with at the beach.

“You okay,” he smirks.

“Shut up. I can't swim. You know that.” You'd complained about it a hundred times as they both forced you off the pile of towels where you had planned to read through your notes. Studying, it was gross.

“You're,” Noah rolls his eyes, “it's like three feet. You're not going to drown.”

“What if,” you counter, “I trip and swallow water and drown.”

“That's not going to happen. What you can't stand up?”

“Don't,” you warn.

He smirks, “it's because you're short.”

“Asshole,” you say, smacking his bare chest. Nothing you haven't seen, you tell yourself. Act normal, you reminded yourself.

“It is!” Noah crouches down a couple inches to your height.

You roll your eyes-

-and laugh when Jane launches herself onto her brother's back.

“I'm an orca!”

Noah lets go of your hand to regain his balance. “Wow there shamu.”

Jane frowns. “Sea world is evil. Ava and I watched Blackfish.”

You vaguely remember some orca documentary that you had mostly slept through. Taking care of Jane was hard and you had fallen asleep in those early weeks whenever you got the chance.

“No seaworld then,” you shrug.

“But I do wanna go to Disneyworld. I wanna go on the star wars ride!”

“You don't even watch Star Wars,” Noah points out.

“I would if we went to Disneyworld. My birthday is coming up.”

“No it's not,” you frown. They were April babies.

“I think you mean my birthday,” Noah says playfully.”

“I was born first,” Jane yells.

“So, I'm taller.”

You roll your eyes, sinking down to your neck. The water was nice. “You better throw yourself into the water if I start drowning,” you warn Noah.

“Yeah yeah,” he says with a soft smile, “I'm not going to let you drown.”

Jane nods in agreement, “I'll kick him if he does.”

You laugh, happy to spend the days with the Marshall twins.

Bells don't ring, but the whole class knows when class is over, shoving their papers away into bags as soon as there's a minute left.

You leave English happily enough. It was a fun class, with plenty of movies and conversation that you were able to make friends in, unlike other lecture heavy classes where you had five minutes before class to talk during.

Sasha and Kevin both walk with you out of the lecture hall. “Have you started studying for the midterm,” Sasha asks, “I really don't want to write two in class essays. Multiple choice is where it's at.”

“I'd rather have an in class essay,” Kevin says, “and Professor Laux said it's just one. But he'd give us two prompts.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I love english I just hate the writing part. Or rather the long essays.”

“At least your not a computer science major,” Sasha counters, “physics is so much worse.”

“Not as bad as o chem.”

“O chem is not that bad,” Sasha counters.

You shrug, “art history major,” you grin smugly.

Kevin shakes his head, “just wait until you have to find a job.”

“Grad school. Both my parents love that shit. They'd help me pay for it.” They both had Ph.Ds.

“I wish my parents helped me pay for school,” Sasha complains again, “they are such hard asses about school but they want me to pay for everything, and live at home-can you imagine how many house parties I've missed to work at the movie theater.”

“Speaking of house parties,” Kevin pushes his glasses up his broad nose, “we're throwing this pre thanksgiving bash at my place. Beer. Snacks. Weed.”

“Shouldn't you be studying for midterms,” you ask, shaking your head. You also hadn't figured out what you were doing for the holiday. You had Jane and Noah now. It had to be special.

“Pfft. I will,” Kevin says. “You're only twenty once am I right?”

Sasha shakes her head. “Okay. But I'm stealing some weed.”

“You in?” They both look at you.

Noah's off Monday and Wednesday, when you get out too late to go pick up Jane. You can't leave her by herself, not that you would want to. You were looking forward to going to waste time at the mall and buy snacks at target: your usual Friday night.

You shake your head, “Can't. I've got Jane on the weekends. Babysitters are expensive.”

“Just tell your parents to look after your sister,” Kevin says petulantly.

You hadn't really explained things. It was complicated. Redfield had really messed up your life. Jane should be your age and going to house parties with you. But you'd have her alive in any shape or form so long as you got to see her. “Umm, actually,” you decide to explain a little, the practiced version, “her parents died a few months ago. They were-they were really close family friends and practically raised me so,” you trail off, thinking about how exactly to explain Noah. He was your best friend, a childhood friend, and. . .that was it.

“Oh shit, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah-”

“Well, if you're even able to figure it out,” Kevin says, “hit me up.”

You wave them goodbye and rush to your next class.

Noah's hair is still damp as he lays down on his side of the bed.

You were still going over your art history notes, wanting to go over the dates of the list of paintings you'd have to identify on tomorrow's quiz. The names were easy since styles even within art movements varied so much. It was a little harder in regulated art worlds: the buddhists of southeast asia didn't go outside their geometric ratios.

“You've been studying all day,” Noah says with a yawn. He no longer smelled like burnt oil.

“Yeah, I have a quiz.” You're sitting cross legged on your side of the bed. “It's on art identification.”

“That's what googles for,” he snarks back.

It was past midnight. Jane had been asleep for three hours.

“Smart ass.” You shut your notebook. The numbers had started swimming in your eyes a while ago. Nothing more was going to stick in your brain.

You turn off the light on your side.

“You're the smart one,” Noah laughs, “I'm just an asshole.”

“Oh,” you smile in the dark, highly aware of his body laying next to you, carefully keeping your leg from brushing against his skin. “You're self aware too!”

“Dick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

You lay in silence, listening to the sounds outside your windows, the cars passing by even at this hour, Noah breathing next to you. It was soothing, having people you loved with you. It wasn't lonely being home all the time.

Noah shifts onto his side: facing you.

You stare up at the ceiling, black from the curtains pulled right even as the window let the breeze in. It had been raining the past few days, but the cold days don't hold a candle to Westchester this time of year.

“Thank you.”

“For what,” you ask, smiling freely.

“What do you mean,” he pitches his voice higher, “for what? For everything.”

You giggle. “I haven't done much.”

Noah's tone is dead serious the next time he speaks. “You didn't have to help . . .with Jane. I don't know how I would've made it work without you, so yeah. Thank you. I didn't even ask-I wouldn't have asked you to give up college and partying-”

You have to stop him right there. “I didn't give shit up Noah.” He could be so dumb sometimes. If he had just told you Jane was Redfield, you would've helped him from day one to save her. But there was no point in bringing that up: just more salt in the wound. “And you didn't have to ask me: I wasn't just going to let you flounder alone. I wanted to-I wanted to be with you and Jane. That was never a question.” Heat flares up in the skin of your cheeks and nose as you smile, before you turn onto your side, looking over at Noah in the dark.

You can't really see him at all.

Thank fuck.

It's bad enough that you feel so flustered you might explode from the emotions swirling about in your chest. You don't know what to do about Noah, about your feelings for him.

Months ago, you would've just bitten the bullet and kissed him, but he'd also opened up about not feeling ready at all about relationships and you will not fuck things up for either of you. It had been easy with Connor when all the lights were green as he was clearly into you and responded right back.

It had been light and a way to not think about the terror of your day to day life for a few moments.

But it wasn't Connor you thought about so much your skin got all hot as you looked out the window during lecture.

You swallow thickly, squashing those feelings into some back corner of your mind.

“Thank you though, I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Don't be dumb. It's getting rid of me that'll be hard.” You could admit now, “Now that I know what it's like to have people in the house to kill spiders, I'm never leaving,” you felt lonely in your childhood house all through high school.

“I don't think Jane would let you leave.” Noah laughs.

“True,” you sigh. “it's nice not to come home to an empty house.”

“Our childhoods were so messed up,” he replies softly.

“It's like the gift that never stops giving. But hey, who cares. I have you two and my parents monthly deposits-and FAFSA!” You laugh, because what else could you do, wallow in self deprecating angst like Noah? You weren't sure you could beat him at his own game. “As far as I'm concerned, you're my family now. . .both of you.”

“When did you become a walking talking greeting card?”

“Asshole.”

Noah laughs.

It's a sound you love. For so long, it had been so rare. It warms you up, blots out all the horrible shit you've gone through and makes everything okay.

You fall asleep smiling.

Sasha settles in your ikea bland table with her bag full of notebooks and textbooks. “I wish I had my own place.”

Next week was finals.

Next week was going to kick your ass.

Matthew looks up from his calculus solutions manual for the first time in an hour, “it really depends on the roommates, mine eat all my snacks.”

“Hide them in your room,” you suggest, opening your computer up to the study guide the TA had sent out last week. “With your underwear or something.”

Jane giggles as she watches spongebob on the TV. Fourth graders had it easy. The upcoming winter break meant Jane was practically doing arts and crafts all week.

You open up a notebook to a fresh page as you write down all the key items from the study guide, underlining key items. You wanted to knock the art essays out of the park. It wasn't as easy to bullshit those as it was to make up themes for an english paper.

Fuck, you were already pretty much done with a semester at college.

Jane had almost been back for over a year.

“Can I see your midterm,” Sasha asks, “I want to see what comments you got.”

You fish it out from your binder. “Go for it.”

Matthew looks up from his pages worth of calculus, “I hate math. I should've just done an anthropology major.”

“Sucks to be an overachiever,” you snark, annotating your notes with a pink gel pen. You had never cared to study much in high school, but a major you actually cared for made all the difference in the world. You wanted museums and van goghs and the asmr of cleaning paintings like in youtube videos.

“I didn't think double majoring would be like this,” Matthew sighs. “I haven't slept in three years.”

Sasha shakes her head, “just go for the one you like the most.”

“So I can be unemployed with tons of student debt?”

“Or get that grant money,” you wiggle your eyebrows. It was what your parents were up to.

“That would mean a PhD,” he complains, but doesn't look completely turned off by the idea. “And I could put off figuring my life out for another four years. . .”

Sasha laughs, flipping through flash cards with a bunch of arrows and equations written on them. Physics.

Intro to Biology was so much easier. You practically only had to remember high school biology and read through the study guide a few times. You could remember the difference between eukaryotic cells and prokaryotic cells.

Sasha suggests ordering Pizza hut as Jane starts asking for food and you feel like yeah, a study break sounds good.

“Four hours is the max people can concentrate for,” Matthew says, as he eats a third slice of pizza.

“So we're done for the day,” Sasha asks, getting up to stretch, and joining Jane on the couch. She'd been an angel, sort of, content to just watch tv all afternoon as you studied. Sure, she'd raised the volumes to movie theater standards every half an hour, but other than that-an angel.

“If you're good for the day.” You were nervous. You didn't want to be a C student anymore. You wanted to try. Surely you had inherited some of your parents brain cells.

“I am,” Sasha admits. “I've been studying every day for four hours. My brain has melted.”

“Honestly,” Matthew says, “I just started studying. The semester seemed so long.”

“Same though bro,” You grin. “All the tests and quizzes went right out of my mind as soon as I was done.”

Sasha shakes her head. “Well, I'm taking a slice for the road. See you around.” She leaves.

Jane joins you and Matthew at the table, licking the pizza grease off her fingers. “I like Noah's pizza better.”

You wince. A cook you were not. “Well, he's working.”

“I know.”

“Noah?” Matthew says, clearly a question.

“My brother,” Jane says flippantly. “They sleep together.”

You're face burns; you want the earth to swallow you whole right then and there. “We live together,” you explain to Matthew who looks more confused. “Jane go watch TV.”

She sends an annoyed look at you, before running off.

“Noah's her brother. They're family friends-” you explain lamely.

“You don't have to explain anything to me,” Matthew says sweetly. “It's your business.”

“Yeah,” you push your hair behind your ears, feeling out of whack. Matthew was cute, but it wasn't like you wanted to jump his bones. He made sociology bearable. “Can you look over my paper? I'm still not sure I got the sources incorporated right-”

“Yeah. Sure. I didn't know sociology 101 would include writing research papers.”

“Everything was going good until I remembered we had that paper due,” Matthew agrees.

You study for another hour, mostly giving each other feedback on your research paper. “It would've helped if he'd given us examples,” you mutter.

“Right.”

Jane tugs on your arm. “Come play with me,” ignoring your classmate entirely.

“Yeah. Sure,” you smile tiredly. You were at your study limit. “Want to call it a night,” you ask Matthew who nods and grabs his things.

Jane scrutinizes him the entire time. She puts her hands on top of the empty pizza box.

“I don't like him,” she pouts, “He's boring. Who studies?”

“Boring college students,” you laugh. “He's fine. We have sociology together. We're also taking english literature pre 1800s together next semester. It was that or latin literature which sounds really pretentious.”

Jane giggles. “Let's play uno!”

“Okay, but just one game. You still have to take a shower before bed.”

“I don't want to take a shower,” Jane protests, “I want to be a horrible reeking troll! Rawr!” She chases you around the living room.

You burst out laughing, letting her tackle you to the floor. It was easy to forget how stressed out you were about finals when you had Jane.

You take deep breaths as you scramble to find your sneakers. It got cold in lecture halls.

Noah makes coffee, “you're going to do fine.”

“I'm going to fail and flunk out of university and my parents are going to hate me forever and i'll never get a job and take Jane to disney world,” you groan, slumping at the counter with a hand on your forehead. You should've studied all night. Why had you bothered going to sleep?

Noah pours you a tumbler full of coffee, with the hazelnut creamer that basically turned the coffee into a hot chocolate, “you've been studying all week. You might not be Lucas levels of 110% on a rest but you're going to do great. I know it,” he says with a genuine smile.

You blush. “I hope all the studying has worked. I've never tried this hard in school.”

“Yeah,” Noah nods with a soft smile. “High school sucked.”

“It did.” You take a sip of your coffee, hoping to steady your nerves.

He looks good in the morning light, before it's too hot to exist. Winter in florida meant temperatures in the low 70s, laughably temperate. Noah's wearing the same boxers he'd gone to sleep in, with a soft worn in grey t-shirt, and a serious case of bed head as his hair curls around his ears in the most adorable mop top.

If you didn't have finals to head to, this would be the perfect morning.

“You're going to do amazing sweetie,” Noah chuckles in the dickish way of his.

You snort, shaking your head. “Fuck yeah I will.”

“That's the spirit.”

You shove your feet into your beat up vans, grab your backpack. “See you later,” you smile at Noah.

“Yeah, good luck,” he says, putting his mug of coffee down on the counter and leaning down. One second he's smiling down at you, and in the next one he's pressing his lips against yours.

Holy fuck.

Your eyes widen.

Was this really happening, or were you just that tired.

“Shit,” Noah stammers, pulling away quickly. “I-”

You raise a brow, “What-”

“It was an accident. Sorry.” Noah steps back, running a hand through his hair, pink up to the tips of his ears.

You feel a bit like a deflated balloon. “What even was that?” Because what it seemed like was like he'd kissed you but-how do you accidentally kiss someone. No-this was way too much for you to dea with at the moment.

“I just-nothing. Just forget it,” Noah says. “I'm going back to sleep.”

“See you later,” you try, feeling all messed up. Had he wanted to kiss you? Was this you messing up for the both of you?

You wish you could call Lily right now, but you had a final to get to.

It's Christmas day, technically.

Jane's been asleep for hours and Noah's taking a bite out of the cookies laid out for Santa as you watch it's a wonderful life trying to puzzle out how this was a Christmas classic. It was boring.

Things had been so awkward with Noah as of late, as you both danced around the kiss, that you had let Jane talk you into a sleepover in her room almost every night. There was no way you could lay there next to Noah and not think yourself to death. Absolutely no way.

You had wrapped up her gifts in baby yoda christmas themed wrapping paper: an assortment of more clothes because Jane really didn't have much considering she had basically popped into life a year ago, random books you remembered liking in elementary and middle school, and toys that you had definitely splurged on including a two hundred dollar set of legos that you looked forward to building with her. It had been hard to keep it secret from her when you all spent the majority of your time together. Stacey had sent a big care package for all of you. Lily had sent gifts through the post office. Lucas’ contribution was a few amazon packages.

All your friends had sent something.

It was touching, considering the distance. You couldn't wait to see them again-Ava wanted to visit in the summer.

You flip the channel, deciding Full House reruns were better.

“Not Full House,” Noah groans, turning the kitchen light off.

“Let me guess. You're a Die Hard fan?”

“Best christmas movie,” he grins.

You shake your head. He could be such a guy. And just like that, the tension between you two dissipates. “No way. The Grinch is the best. The 2001 one anyway.”

You click the side table lamp off.

Noah sits down next to you as you flick through the channels, trying to find something to watch. “Bob's burgers?”

“Sounds good.”

It's dark. The volume’s on low. You're all curled up in bed, and Noah's not being weird-it helps that you're trying to be chill about it.

“How did your finals go?”

“Well I didn't flunk out,” you shrug. “I got a C in sociology but a B in everything else.” It was fine. It's not like you were a sociology major.

“I told you you'd do good.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, laying down entirely, ignoring the tv. “I just figured all the studying would...I don't know, mean I'd get straight As?”

“It's college-isn't it supposed to be like super hard or whatever,” Noah says with a shrug.

“I guess.” You just wished you were that kind of student. Even seeing how hard the effort was on Lucas’ mental health, maybe your parents might visit if you did get straight As. It was dumb. “I just figured my parents might pay attention if I did get all As.”

“Fuck your parents,” he says easily.

You snort. “Shut up. They pay like half the rent.”

“The least they could do.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Did you ever want to go to college? You know like when we had to write colleges letters in fifth grade, or was it sixth?”

“Naw. School was never my thing,” Noah says in the quiet of the night.

You smile softly, tilting your head so you're looking at him, the moonlight illuminating the angles of his jaw as it poured in through the windows. “Then it was always culinary school for you?”

He shrugs. “Yeah-I mean,” he closes his eyes, thinking silently. “I'm a little too dumb for school. I could never get the whole trig thing or what Shakespeare was saying let alone the subtext.”

You sit up. “Shut up,” you state, slapping his bicep lightly. “Don't say that shit.”

“It's true.”

You shift, closer to his side of the bed, closer to him still lying there staring up at the ceiling, not meeting your searching gaze. “You're not dumb. Noah-you are not dumb. You're so fucking smart-who remembered to buy toilet paper and figured out how to rent an apartment?”

“You can google that shit,” he says, covering his face with his hand, embarrassed.

“And cooking takes skill. Maybe it's not mensa harvard type smarts, but it's not nothing!” You just wanted him to see himself the way you did. You're sitting up on your knees now, as his expressive wide eyes meet yours, a dark romantic brown you could drown in, staring down at him. “Say it! Say you're smart and clever and amazing!”

“I'm not saying that,” he laughs off.

“Say, I'm fucking smart and I can do anything,” you repeat, nudging his chest.

Noah smiles and it does all sorts of things to you, makes your pulse race as heat winds its way all hot under your skin, all hot and bothered and feeling giddy like a dumbass and you never meet someone who felt like home the way it is with Noah. “I'm fucking smart,” he says quietly, rolling his eyes, “and I can do anything.”

“We're going to have to work on that,” you laugh, belatedly realizing you're almost on top of him. Well, you are on top of him, you're knees are by his waist, but you're leaning over him and fuck you want him. The way he's laying there under you, looking like the sun shines out of your ass, it's thrilling.

“We will,” Noah says, wiggling his brows in a way that has you laughing into his chest.

Then you're looking up at him, unable to catch your breath, because you can't stop laughing and it's not like you're particularly comedic but-fuck it, you lean up and kiss him. It's what you've been itching to do since the party at-fuck, you don't even remember, but you remember finding him there and realizing he's what you had been missing, the reason you didn't feel like being there until you sat by the pool with him.

He's Noah and you're you and there's not a version of you that doesn't love him to bits; there's not a version of you that doesn't go with him to face the monster and rescue Dan and would give your life for him and Jane. Always. Because he's Noah-

You lean down and kiss him, trying to communicate the depth of this feeling.

It wasn't some crush.

Or some drunken affair at a house party.

You kiss his lips with a dizzying fever that burns hot under your skin as desire builds in the pit of your stomach: a bundle of nerves sparking to life. And he kisses you back, his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb rubbing circles into your skin.

You tremble under his gentle touch, afraid that this too would disappear in your hands. You were so used to losing: to getting nothing.

Noah stares up wide eyed at you when you pull away.

You bite your bottom lip.

“I-,” he stutters.

“I've really been wanting to do that for a long time,” you confess.

“Me too.”

You swallow thickly at his confession. “Then it wasn't...it wasn't an accident,” you ask carefully.

Noah shakes his head once. “No. That-I just, I didn't want to mess up something good just because I wanted something more.” He looks so heartbroken in that second-

“Noah,” you sigh gently. “I was surprised and thinking about school but I've-I would've kissed you then if my head hadn't been so far up my own ass.”

He snorts, the line of his shoulders relaxing under your hands. “After what happened- I was lucky that you even wanted to talk to me at all. I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me and then I thought it was just for Jane,” Noah admits painfully.

“I've always loved you.” You tell him. “And I'm going to keep telling you until it gets through that thick skull of yours.”

Noah chuckles.

“So are we on the same page?”

He rakishly raises a brow with a shit eating grin on his lips, “I don't know, are you gonna kiss me again?”

You vow to wipe that look off his face as you do more than press your lips hungrily against his, your hands against his chest as you shift once more, situating yourself and getting comfortable straddling his waist with your legs. You press hard kisses to his mouth as Noah kisses you back with the same fervor; you nibble on his bottom lip, bringing it between your teeth.

It's an exercise in breathlessness, a mexican stand-off in which both sides are ready and happy to pull the trigger because of the rush of blood to your head as you taste him on your lips. It's intoxicating the way in which he kisses your mouth and you forget the need to breathe.

But you, smiling against the skin of his jaw as you catch your breath. His chest rises and falls under your hands as he laughs giddily, feeling as crazy as you do.

It's not that epic romeo and juliet love that burns and destroys, but the fullness in your heart as you lay there with him.

You plant kisses down his jaw, savoring the hitches in his breath as you nip on the skin at the crook of his neck. “Is this okay,” you ask wickedly.

“Fuck,” Noah utters, voice breaking as he sucks in air. “Yeah-”

He cups your cheek with his hand and leads you up, brings you back where he can kiss you again. Noah kisses you-he lets himself kiss you. His tongue experimentally whetting against your all too willing lips before your mouth opens up to him and it's clear in the clumsy way he's eager to explore your mouth--the boy has no idea what he's doing.

It's fine.

You smile against his mouth, taking charge and running your tongue against his. Reaching for his free hand and guiding it, inviting him to explore the shape of your body in an oversized t-shirt and tiny booty shorts that you wouldn't even take the trash out in.

Noah does, clasping your hips with his hand as you binch up the fabric of his shirt in your hands as you lose yourself in kissing him, in drinking him in like a comfort series you could endlessly rewatch.

You're both breathless, as you lay your head down on his chest, content.

“That was,” Noah says all out of sorts, “wow.”

“Guess you're going to be the next great american writer,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, running his hand up your side.

“Hey,” you continue, relaxing into his touch, “Hemingway was a man of few words.”

“Was he the alcoholic one?”

“I think a lot of writers were,” you admit. “I tried to read his whale book but it was boring as fuck.”

“Moby Dick,” Noah says thoughtfully, “did Hemingway write Moby Dick?”

“Who cares,” you reply, pressing a kiss against the edge of his lips, fine with spending the wee hours of the morning making out with Noah.

“Well now I want to know.”

“Really,” you tease, bringing your hand up, running your fingers through his soft hair.

His eyes close. Noah leans into your touch. “I'll google it later.”

You giggle.

Then he’s kissing you again and you could care less about books and long dead writers. Noah captures your lips with his and you intertwine your fingers in his hair, a hand on his chest, wondering what it would feel like to have his bare skin against yours and caught between the enormity of your want and letting things happen naturally. It was Noah. You didn’t want to rush him.

You were still amazed he’d kissed you back,that he wanted you the same way you wanted him. The love had never been the point of contention between you two. You loved him at nine and you loved him at nineteen.

Noah losses some of his hesitation, his hands sliding down your side until they reach the swell of your hips straddling his waist. Then his hand slips under the fabric of your shirt and you moan into his mouth at the sensation of his fingers splayed against to taunt muscles of your abdomen.

It’s just flaring want consuming you whole.

“Is that,” Noah manages between bated breaths, “okay?”

You kind of want to shake his shoulders and say shut up and keep going, because you might just combust in the next few minutes if he keeps going like this, this clumsy tenderness mixed with the assault of his body discovering yours. “Yeah,” you stammer out, more feeling than young woman. “Great actually.”

Noah chuckles, trailing kisses down your neck as you lean back a little, before pulling away. . .before pulling your shirt over your head.

He sucks in a breath at the sight of your naked torso.

You can’t help the headyness in your chest at his reaction, at the way you were affecting him. “Like what you see,” you grin, all brash confidence that threatened to topple over like a house of cards at every turn, at the shift of his body under yours.

For once, Noah doesn’t have some smartass comment, just reaches his hands to your cheeks and pulls you down flush against him.

Fuck.

You kiss him feverishly, your hands finding the hem of his shirt as running yours fingers against the sliver of skin.

Noah moans into your mouth and you swear you can’t even function at the sound. The entire world is boiled down to you and him, him and you, and building pressure in your belly that threatens to explode.

“The shirt-,” you stutter out, half out of your mind.

“Yeah,” he obliges, sitting up and tugging it off.

And then you’re melting against him, the warmth of his skin against yours. Your breasts flush against his bare chest. Your toes curl up as you sigh, hands clutching at his neck, at his cheek, at the ends of his hair.

You kiss his jaw, you suck on the skin of his jaw and none of it is enough. Fuck, you want him so bad. You’re so fucking horny. It’s not like you’d been with a lot of people. But it had been over a year since your last sexual encounter.

And that might explain part of it-

Noah cups one of your breast with the palm of his hand, and fuck-

Your mind blanks as you moan his name. “Noah,” you whimper.

He kisses your collarbone, smiling against your skin.

“Do you want to-,” he asks, sounding more self assured by the word.

“Yes, yes,” you eagerly answer, kissing him hungrily. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Noah laughs breathlessly.

Then he’s whimpering as you run your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

His hand closes around your wrist before you can get further, “condom?”

“Fuck,” you swear. This was so unsexy of you both. But it wasn’t like you had a reason to buy condoms along with pads and fruit snacks. “I think I have one,” you vaguely remember there being one in your wallet.

“I really hope you do.”

“Jerk.”

With great reluctance, you crawl off him to go look for your purse. You had to stop throwing it wherever and hang it up. It would've made it easier to find right now.

You don’t look back at Noah, even though you can feel his heavy gaze on you. The airs filled with static electricity as you rifle around and find the slim black bag.

It’s another few minutes of fishing through its contents before you find the thin small envelope that you were pretty sure you’d gotten in health or at planned parenthood at some point. Ava had definitely been there.

When you turn around, Noah’s sat up in bed, in your bed, in the bed you two share, have shared for months. It’s too dark to make out the expression on his features from this distance, but it’s under his dark eyes that you make your way back to him.

You push your shorts and underwear down in one go, discarding them by the side of the bed, taking care not to lose the condom (you were going on another target run asap) before you’re once again straddling his waist, feeling Noah already hard under your thigh.

“I’ve,” he starts as you sit up on your knees, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh.” You’re off kilter. Does he not want to? It’s fine. You’re just surprised. It’s Noah. He’s tall and funny even if you want to strangle him half the time --he can cook-- and he’s so fucking hot when he’s not being adorkable. You’re surprised. “We don’t. . .have to.”

He sits up under you. “No. It’s,” Noah blushes, “I want to, it’s just-you should know?”

“Oh. Okay,” you lean in, kissing him with a tenderness he deserves in spades, “if you’re sure.”

Noah grasps your hips in his hands, pulling you in, “I’m sure.”

He kisses you.

You push him down onto the bed by his shoulders. His eyes are full of trust as he looks up at you, full of love like the moon on a clear night. You carefully open the condom up.

Noah shimmies his boxers off.

And because you’re you, you reach down and stroke his cock with your hand.

He shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he throws his head back into the bed, his back arching.

You wait a moment for him to still underneath you, before you roll the condom onto his cock, letting your desire carry your through as you fumble a bit. Again, you didn’t exactly have much experience on Noah. You just had some experience.

You lean down flush against him, kissing his lips, as you guide his cock to the apex of your thighs and part your legs, moaning into his mouth as he enters your soaked entrance. Noah stretches you out, leaving you a trembling mess, faring no better than he currently was under you, as his hips thrust against you and you-fuck!

It’s a tangle of limbs as you wrap your arms around him, lacing your fingers behind his neck, wanting more, and more as your hips more erratically against his.

Noah is all kisses and moans and his fingers bruising the skin of your hips as he presses you closer against him.

You don’t really know or care about anything but the feel of his cock inside you, as he thrusts with fervor, and clutches you near. You just want and want and stars dance across your eyelids as your skin catches fire, the heat in your belly finally boiling over as you fuck him, grinding your hips against his.

You splutter, reaching your climax while topping the boy you’ve been in love with for what might as well be your whole life. It’s just your strained voice, repeating his name, “Noah,” like it’s an answer to the whole meaning of life bullshit.

Good.

Bad.

It always comes back to him.

Noah.

He comes against you a second later, your name a sharp breath on his lips, before he goes as boneless as you feel. You’re on cloud fucking nine.

It’s a feeling no amount of weed can come close to.

Exhausted, you get off of him, slumping into a puddle on the bed. Fucking Florida. You were too hot and sweaty to curl under the blankets now.

“I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” you snipe back, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, “now that I’ve fucked you you tell me.”

“Shut up,” Noah manages. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go toss the condom.”

He sits up slowly, “oh this episode’s my favorite.”

You’d completely forgotten about Bob’s Burgers reruns playing on the TV.

It’s New Year’s Eve and the three of you are eating ice cream on the beach. Only in Florida.

“And why can’t I go in the water?”

“Because you don’t have your bathing suit,” Noah tells Jane for the hundredth time.

“I promise I’ll just stick my feet in.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” you shake your head.

She frowns. “I promise!”

What the heck. It’s not like you were going anywhere else after this. “Okay. But you have to finish your ice cream first.”

“Wow,” Noah says, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leaning his weight against you, making you stumble in the sand. “What a pushover.”

“Me!” You reply, offended. “You let her stay home for no reason.”

The twins exchange glances. “She had chickenpox,” Noah shrugs shamelessly.

“And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Korean skincare does miracles.”

You roll your eyes at him, “shut up.”

Jane giggles easily as she decides this patch of sand is the one, and sits down, licking her rocky road ice cream happily.

“Jane,” you ask gently.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember why you’re ten and we’re not?” It had been bugging you, ever since the parent teacher conference. There had been no more nightmares since September, but it bothered you, that she might remember anything. That Jane might not want to tell you. You couldn’t help her if she didn’t tell you.

She shrugs. “Not really,” with a child’s ability to shrug things off.

Noah asks the question you’ve been dreading. “Do you remember Redfield?”

Jane looks at you both, frowning. “Who?”

Your shoulders sag with relief. You hide it with a bite of your ice cream cone. Jane had a habit of picking up on things.

“No one important,” Noah brushes off, running a hand through his hair.

“You guys are being weird,” Jane complains. “Is this about you two being gross together? I saw you holding hands.” She narrows her eyes at you accusingly. “Don’t you remember boys have cooties.” She shakes her head. “Grown ups.”

“Jane,” Noah squeaks.

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yeah. We thought you should know.” It was better to leave the whole Redfield business behind. She didn’t need that shit weighing her down. “I don’t know. I like your brother a lot for some reason. Ava says it’s trauma induced codependency but she’s Ava so. . .”

Jane frowns again, letting the ice cream drip onto the sand as she thinks. “Does that mean I’m getting a sister?”

It’s your turn to be flabbergasted, as your skin reddens into a ripe tomato. “What!”

“It’s only fair,” she explains. “If you get my brother then I should get a new sister.”

“How about a stuffed animal,” you barter.

“You let me play five Nights at Freddies?”

“No way Jane,” Noah says, shaking his head. “It’ll give you nightmares.”

“What about minecraft,” you try. “Just on Fridays though.”

“Okay. i don’t want my ice cream anymore. I want to go play in the water.”

You nod, kicking your shoes off. “Okay yeah. Let’s go throw it away. I’m sick of mine too.”

You toss the ice cream and race Jane into the waves.

#noah marshall #ilitw noah #noah x mc #it lives in the woods #jane marshall #mine #theyre like 18/19 theyre not lasting long during sex #but also i love mc and noah having shit parents and then turning around and being much better parents #to jane #ABUSE DOES NOT DEFINE YOU #okay but also mc and noah being soulmates and being that couple thats known each other their whole lives #i love

58 notes · View notes

yeontanismypresident · 4 years

Text

Say Hello | myj

a/n: hello, this is a continuation, and the final part, of say goodbye! you can read the first part here. let me know if i should make more yoonji pieces! xx

pairing: min yoonji x female reader

genre: fluff, angst, e2l!au

warnings: cursing, panic attacks, crying, feelings of self-doubt,

word count: 1.5k

Yoonji watches helplessly as you pack some clothes for the night. Her mouth opens and closes as she wills herself to speak, to stop you from leaving her, but no words escape her. She can feel herself panicking, her breathing picking up. When you stop at the door, she stands up, desperately wanting ㅡ needing you to stay. Still, no words leave her, and she hates herself for it. Why can’t she just speak up for once?

As soon as you walk out of the apartment, she falls onto her knees, heartbreaking sobs wracking through her tiny form. Yoonji curls into a small ball, arms squeezing her legs to her chest, and her eyes clenched shut with tears gliding down her rosy cheeks. So caught up in her self-deprecating thoughts it feels like days have passed by, when in reality it's only been two hours.

"Yoonji?" a male's voice calls out through your her apartment, "Are you here?" the footsteps are getting closer, and the pinkette makes herself impossibly smaller.

A choked noise sounds from the door. Slightly glancing up, Yoonji can see it's her twin brother, Yoongi. He sighs, crouching down beside her, his voice soft, "Oh, Yoonji..."

"Why are you here?" she croaks out, sniffling obnoxiously loud. Reaching up, she wipes the snot from her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

He hums, sad eyes watching as his twin tries to pull herself together, "Y/n called me, said i needed to come over and check on you."

"She said that?" Yoonji asks nochantaly, or well, she tries to, but her voice is bordering on desperate. "What else did she say?"

Yoongi sighs, helping her sit up before taking a seat next to her, "Told me you broke up with her, that you didn't want her anymore. She thinks you don't love her, and that she's not enough for you-"

"That's not true!" Yoonji cuts him off, voice loud, "I do love her! I love her more than I love lamb skewers! And she is more than enough!" The tears that have once stopped falling are now rushing down her cheeks even faster. "Why would she think that?"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, "Hm, maybe because the love of her life told her she wanted to break up and never tried to stop her from leaving?"

Yoonji knows her brother means well, but hearing those words still cause her heart to squeeze painfully in her chest, and her body to sag. She knows it's her fault this mess is happening, knows she's the one that pushed you away.

"I wanted to stop her," Yoonji says with a soft, broken voice, "I wanted to say something ㅡ Anything to make her realize I didn't want her to leave, but I froze up. I panicked. And now? Now I've lost the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She chuckles humorously, "I'm a pathetic piece of shit." Why does she always fuck things up? All you’ve done is be understanding and loving, yet she constantly pushes you away. This time, what seems like forever.

"Yoonji, you're not a piece of shit. Bad at feelings? Yeah, definitely, but that's part of being a Min," her twin sighs, bringing her into an awkward hug. He wasn't lying when he said the Min's are awkward and bad at feelings.

She lets her head fall to rest on his shoulder, "What am I supposed to do now?" The words she spoke were quiet, full of so much raw emotion, they made Yoongi's chest tighten.

"Now, we figure out a way to get her back," he holds Yoonji tighter, head coming to rest on top of hers.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes in annoyance, "Yeah, right. Like she'd take me back." Why would you take her back when she's the one who broke up with you? She's the one who broke your heart, why would you want to be with her again?

"Yoonji," Yoongi starts, voice full of determination, "She called me crying and begged me to come check on you. I'm pretty sure she still loves you and would want nothing more than to have you back."

She flinches when she hears you've been crying. She hates the thought of you breaking down and sobbing. Hates the thought of you being completely broken ㅡ broken all because of her.

Licking her lips, she brings her glossy eyes to stare up at her brother, "So, what's the plan? How am I winning back my girl?"

"Well," Yoongi grins, eyes twinkling with mirth.

“You got this, Yoonji, you got this. Just, don’t fuck it up and you’ll be good,” Yoonji says to herself, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. Looking at the door in front of her, she swallows, scared of what’s about to happen.

Yoongi clears his throat from behind her, “It’s gonna be fine, just knock so I can leave.” She was happy he was there supporting her, really she was, but why did he have a fucking guitar?

“Don’t fuck it up,” she mutters one last night before raising her hand and knocking on the door. Yoonji’s heart picks up its pace, beating erratically in her chest, as she hears quiet talking on the other side.

Yoongi sighs, shifting to rest most of his weight on his left foot, “So, like, when do you think they’re gonna stop arguing and answer the door? Cause I got a hot date with my bed, and I don’t wanna miss it.” Yoonji rolls her eyes, and as she’s about to reply, the door is ripped open.

“Hello?”

The Min twins glance up and see Kim Jisoo standing in front of them. Yoonji sucks in a deep breath, slightly shrinking in on herself at the fierce glare on the petite girl.

“Can I help you?” Jisoo asks, raising an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between the two before her gaze rests on Yoongi. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Why the fuck do you have a guitar?”

Yoongi sheepishly smiles at her, a hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck, “Oh, y’know, just setting the mood!” Yoonji facepalms at her brother’s words. God, why is he always so embarrassing?

“Jisoo-ssi, is Y/n here?” the pinkette's voice is quiet, afraid of pissing off your best friend.

Jisoo sniffs and crosses her arms, “Maybe. Why do you want to know? What are you even doing here? I thought you didn’t love her anymore? Hm?”

“I do love her!” Yoonji says exasperated, “I love her so much, and I regret not stopping her so fucking much. She’s my world, the light of my life, and I just need her back.” Her voice cracks in between her words, eyes become glossy once more.

Your best friend sighs and relaxes her stance. Glancing behind her shoulder, she can see the way you're holding yourself for comfort as your eyes well up with tears. “Fine, but only because I’ve never seen you this emotional, and it’s kinda freaking me out.”

“Thank you, Jisoo-ssi,” your ex says gratefully, walking inside with Yoongi following close behind. When her gaze rises from staring at the ground, she catches your eyes. She can see the way tears are silently falling down your cheeks. “Oh, baby…”

With those words, you finally crack, and a sob escapes your trembling lips, “Yoonji…” Before anyone can say anything else, a soft melody starts playing throughout the room. Yoongi freezes as everyone’s eyes are trained on him.

“...What?”

Yoonji groans and her head falls forward, “...What the fuck are you doing, Yoongi?” The younger Min grabs the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb.

“I told you guys already,” Yoongi defends himself, an offended expression on his face, “I’m setting the mood!”

A giggle leaves your mouth, and before you know it, you’re laughing hard and clutching your stomach.

Yoonji moves closer to you, heart racing when you don’t move away, “Baby, I’m so sorry for everything. I know that doesn’t make up for what I put you through, and I know I have so much to do to make up for it, but I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance…”

She knows that was the lamest apology, but she’s hoping you get what she’s trying to say. Thankfully, you do, but Jisoo doesn’t.

“Are you serious?” she scoffs, “That was the shittiest fucking apology I’ve ever heard!” Jisoo rolls her eyes and looks over at you, “Please tell me you’re not going to forgive her that easily?”

Your ex can feel her heart fall, hands becoming clammy with nerves. Seeing her start to have a panic attack, you bring her into your embrace, voice soothing and quiet, “Hey, Yoonji, baby, calm down. It’s okay. Don’t listen to her. I know what you’re trying to say, don’t worry. Take a deep breath for me. That’s it, baby.”

“I love you, you have to know that. I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Yoonji sobs in your arms, her own rushing to bring you even closer to her. Her head rests on your shoulder, lips grazing your soft skin.

Rubbing her back, you reassure her once again, “I know, baby. I love you too, and we’ll be okay. We definitely have some things to talk about, but we can work through it.”

“I love you so much,” she whispers, love shining through her gaze as she looks up at you.

You giggle, placing a chaste kiss on her pouty lips, murmuring, “I love you too, Min Yoonji.”

#bts x reader #yoonji x reader #yoonji #min yoonji #min yoonji x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #yoonji fluff #yoonji angst #bts x you #bts x y/n #yoonji x you #yoonji x y/n #say hello #min yoonji x you #yoonji x female reader

79 notes · View notes

bard-llama · 4 years

Text

The Witcher Fic Masterlist

Masterlist of all of my Witcher fics, updated as of June 5, 2021.

If you like my writing, consider donating to my ko-fi! I am writing gift fics for all donors.

Here is a masterlist of all completed multi-chapter fics.

Series:

Families of Choice

Geraskefer Canon Divergent AU

Summary: The best families are those you choose. Jaskier realized that early in life, but his family continues to expand over the years.

Series Masterlist

Cintra Happily Ever After Series:

AU from the Families of Choice Series (as of the end of 5 Dinners with the Lioness chapter 5)

Summary: A series in which I pretend everything is fine and nobody dies, and Geralt makes Cintra his home base after the feast in episode 4.

Series Masterlist

Chronic Pain Series

Summary: Unconnected shorts in which I vent my pain onto fictional characters.

At Her Back

Summary: Yennefer was born with a twisted spine. Her transformation had cured her, but she still felt the pain as if nothing had changed. Geralt offers Jaskier's services as a masseuse.

Coming to a Head

Summary: During a confrontation gone wrong, Jaskier gets hit with a spell that is supposed to cause unimaginable pain. So why does Jaskier seems mostly unaffected?

When Pigs Talk

Summary: When seeking pain relief, Yennefer takes something that makes the pigs in her pig pen start talking. It’s the start of an interesting evening.

Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep

Rated E

Summary: Geralt’s eyes burn and ache like he’s undergoing the trials again, so Jaskier does his best to help distract from the pain.

Don’t Cry for Me, Temeria

Iorveth/Roche Witcher 2 Different First Meeting AU

Summary: A Witcher 2 Canon AU in which Iorveth and Roche meet before either of them know who the other is. Somehow, this changes absolutely everything.

Series Masterlist

Fish Out of Water

Iorveth/Roche MerMay AU

Summary: Once upon a time, all elves lived in the sea and had mer forms. Now, Iorveth is something of a novelty, one of the last true elves.

Series Masterlist

For You, My Love, I Bleed

Iorveth/Roche angsty AU

Summary: Iorveth and Roche had been happy, or so Iorveth had thought. Then King Foltest recalls Roche to the capital, and suddenly Iorveth is left alone as Roche returns to Foltest. Roche made his choice, clearly, and Iorveth just has to deal with that. But all is not as it seems, and Roche considers everything worth sacrificing if it protects the man he loves.

Series Masterlist

A Hard Day’s Night

Iorveth/Roche interrogation AU

Summary: Iorveth ends up imprisoned, with Vernon Roche as his interrogator. From there it only gets worse - or better, depending on your point of view.

Series Masterlist

If You’re Good to Mama

Iorveth/Roche Outsider POV

Summary: The Clarabelle is the finest brothel in town and its located in the shittiest part of town. Follow the adventures of the Madame, Eliza, and the brothel workers as they start working to supply food to the terrorist elves in the Scoia'tael.

Series Masterlist

Keep Me

Iorveth/Roche fanart AU

Summary: All Vernon Roche wants in life is someone to keep him and appreciate him. Surprisingly, he may find exactly that - in the form of his enemy, no less. Based on this art.

Series Masterlist

King and Country

Iorveth/Roche divergent AU

Summary: When Foltest rejects Vernon Roche, he sets into motion a series of events that have consequences he never could've expected. A universe in which Roche's anger and hurt at Foltest remove the rose colored glasses.

Series Masterlist (NEW ADDITIONS!)

Love Shack

Iorveth/Roche Secret Relationship AU

Summary: The Love Shack: a ramshackle cabin in the forest that happens to be Iorveth and Roche's only respite from a reality full of violence, war, and hate. In the Love Shack, all that matters is each other.

Series Masterlist

The Lovestruck Fox

Iorveth/Roche Schoolgirl Crush AU

Summary: It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the Scoia’tael Commander holds his opposite in the highest esteem.

Series Masterlist

Petals and Stripes

Iorveth/Roche Hanahaki AU

Summary: Those that felt the deepest of deep loves could develop a condition known as the wasting disease. Those afflicted slowly suffocate as their lungs fill with fruit representing the one they love. Well, it's supposed to be fruit. So why is Commander Roche coughing up flowers?

Series Masterlist

With A Look I May Not Meet

Iorveth/Roche capture AU

Summary: When Iorveth is captured using his relationship with Vernon Roche, Roche is forced to make a decision. Stand with King Foltest and Temeria as he has always done - or choose Iorveth and go on the run.

Series Masterlist

The Woodland Fox and The Temerian Hound

Iorveth/Roche animal transformation AU

Summary: Roche usually didn’t mind Triss’s magic much. Sure, she poked at him with it all the time, but it was always playful, inviting him in on the fun. This time, however, something had gone very, very wrong and he was quite sure that it would take him a long time to trust her magic again. Because somehow a rebound spell had hit him, and now he had a tail. A dog’s tail. Well, he was always getting called Foltest’s attack dog. Now it was just a bit more literal.

Series Masterlist

Under the cut:

New! Gen fics (22)

Yennefer fics (4)

Geraskier/Geraskefer fics (25)

Geralt getting railed fics (4)

Cintra fics (Calanthe/Eist and others) (9)

Lambert/Aiden fics (6)

Lambert/Jaskier fic (1)

Wolf Witcher fics (2)

New! Iorveth/Roche fics (45)

New! Saskia fics (3)

Gen Fics:

(They came after me) With Masterful Deceit

Summary: When Jaskier discovers that Yennefer has Elven blood, he is forced to confront his prejudices.

Beauty and Imperfections

Summary: Jaskier signs up to be a nude model. He's expecting it to be a fun, sexy time. It goes a lot differently than he expected.

The Blood of the Covenant is Thicker Than the Water of the Womb

Summary: Found Family prompt fills, focusing mostly on Iorveth and Roche. Chapter 1: Geralt invited all of his family to join him in Corvo Bianco, which is great, but has the downside that finding a moment alone is near impossible.

Cards Out For Your Country

WiP

Summary: In which a great number of people are convinced or coerced into posing for a Gwent Pinup Calendar.

Greg the Demon Horse

Summary: Jaskier tries to make a stuffed toy for Ciri. If only he knew how to sew properly.

Gwent, The Good Old Game (NEW!)

WiP

Summary: Zoltan, Dandelion, and Priscilla decide to go all in on a new money-making scheme involving gwent. This time, they are going to sell stories and dolls of the characters that appear on gwent cards. It's guaranteed to make a killing.

History is Written by the Victors

Summary: “Dara said grandmother’s men laughed as they raped women and killed babies by - by swinging them by their legs, bashing their heads in.” Fuck. Tentatively, Jaskier wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a hug when she didn’t flinch away. In his head, he could hear Filavandrel’s voice, the humans proudly watch these very fields grow... our babies fertilizer for their grain. He swallowed against rising bile. Against his neck, he could feel Ciri finally succumb to tears. “How could grandmother order that? I know her, that wasn’t what she was like! But Dara wouldn’t have lied.”

Wherein our characters struggle with knowing that good people can do awful things, and that everything you think you know is probably wrong.

How to Train Your Roach

Summary: The story of how Jaskier's stupid ditties on the road accidentally trained Roach.

Inspired by Her Fire

Warning: Spoilers for Witcher 2, specifically something from the end of Iorveth’s Path.

Summary: Saskia's POV during the Council Meeting where Saskia introduces Iorveth.

It’s the Little Things

Summary: A collection of fills for various prompts! Chapter 1: “You. Rest. Now.”

jaws that crack the bones the lion leaves

Summary: Jaskier writes a song about the Slaughter of Cintra.

Life is a Cabaret

Witcher 3 Canon/Spoilers

Summary: Set during the Cabaret quest, after Geralt helps Dandelion with his staged fight, he decides that Dandelion's big comfy bed at the Rosemary & Thyme is perfect for a bit of rest. Dandelion doesn't exactly mind.

The Lion That Haunts My Dreams

Rated M

Summary: Calanthe does what is needed to protect her kingdom. Dara just wants to forget. Two perspectives on a genocide.

Marilka

Summary: Geralt knew he couldn’t claim his Child of Surprise. Destiny had punished him harshly the one time he’d thought about raising a child. He could not risk its wrath again.

Power

Summary: Yennefer had been forced to fight for every bit of power she had. So why does the power to make people see her seem so unattainable? An introspective look at Yenn during the Dragon Hunt (but ignoring the break up because I can)

Sentenced to Write

Summary: A collection of fics from 1 sentence prompts. Chapter One: Thief!Ciri Chapter Two: Kid!Calanthe

Soft Words and Kind Hearts

Summary: A collection of fills for Geralt Fluff Week 2020. Day 1: First times. Geralt gets a tattoo and becomes part of the Blue Stripes Commandos

Sweat and Blood and Tears: A Geralt Whump Collection

Summary: Collected shorts for Geralt Whump Week

What Makes a Family

Summary: Ciri spends her first birthday since the Fall of Cintra at Kaer Morhen.

What You Meme to Me

Summary: A collection of Witcher fics inspired by memes. Just because. Second chapter: Jaskier doesn't understand why people are so obsessed with gender. Why would what's in their pants matter?

The White Wolf

Summary: Geralt always gets named the White Wolf in fight clubs, even before Jaskier gave him the name. Sometimes he even hid his medallion and gave a fake name, and still, he was always called the White Wolf.

Your Voice is Your Life

Summary: “Your voice is your life.” His old teacher used to tell him. Jaskier largely disagreed, but then a djinn steals his voice. Bottled Appetites from Jaskier's point of view

Yennefer Fics

To Be...

Summary: Collection of shorts for Yennefer Appreciation Week on Tumblr!

A Tribute to the Fae

Rated E

Summary: When Yennefer accidentally trespasses on fae land, she must pay the price.

Viscount Pankratz and Wife

WiP

Summary: When Jaskier receives an invitation to a fancy party addressed to him and his wife, he decided he deserved a night of fun causing problems for people. Who better to help than Yennefer of Vengerberg?

Yenn & Djinn

WiP

Summary: Bottled Appetites AU Jaskier’s last wish is for Geralt to appear. This manages to change everything.

Geraskier/Geraskefer Fics:

(I would not wish) Any Companion But You

Summary: I’m not your friend, Geralt always insists whenever Jaskier calls them such.

100 Ways to Love You

Rated E

Summary: A drabble collection for Witcher OT3 sex Okay, it might be more double drabbles than drabbles, but shhh

Awaken in Pleasure

Rated E

Summary: Geralt dreams of having Jaskier waking him up with sex. He finally manages to ask for it.

Bounce a Coin Off Your Witcher

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier has lots of thoughts about Geralt's arse in leather pants. And then they get stuck in a small room together.

Butter That Biscuit

Rated E

Summary: Bottled Appetites Ep 5 AU – When Jaskier awakes in Yennefer’s room, he does, in fact, butter that biscuit.

Five Almost Kisses and One Happily Ever After

WiP

Rated E

Summary: What it says on the tin. Geralt knows he wants Jaskier, but why would the bard ever be interested in a witcher? Five times Geralt ALMOST figures it out and one time he actually makes a move.

Five Times Geralt Frotted Against Jaskier’s Ass and One Time He Fucked It

Rated E

Summary: Based on this tumblr post about Geralt frotting against Jaskier's ass in his sleep.

Fulfilling a Need

Rated E

Summary: Geralt has been twitchy and restless lately. When Jaskier confronts him, he discovers that what Geralt needs is for Jaskier to take control and fuck his face. So he does.

Gestures of Affection

Rated M

Summary: A collection of shorts featuring any configuration of the relationship between Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer and the ways they show affection to each other. With bonus Ciri, because she’s their family.

Hit Me Baby (One More Time)

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier desperately wants physical evidence of Geralt’s love for him.

How to Spoil Your Pet

Rated E

Summary: Yennefer and Jaskier team up to give Geralt everything he wants. He wants a lot. Good thing they're amenable.

Howling Swirling Storm

Summary: Jaskier is a winter spirit who has always been shit at hiding his powers. But somehow Geralt still never figured it out?

Jaskier’s Words are Horseshit

Summary: The thing about Jaskier is, he never shuts up. Literally, ever. That was the first thing Geralt noticed about the bard, but he was not prepared for all that entailed. Jaskier was, quite literally, always making noise of some sort. If he wasn’t singing, he was humming, muttering, strumming at his lute. Even in his sleep, the bard hmm’d and sighed and mumbled and snored continuously.

A Kiss With a Lash

Rated E

Summary: Geralt asks Jaskier to punish him for the Break Up (TM)

Making Amends

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier is putting his life back together after the Mountain™. So what is he supposed to do when Geralt arrives at his doorstep?

Pamper Your Witcher

Rated E

Summary: Geralt doesn't let himself have the finer things in life. So Jaskier decides to pamper him.

That Wild Blue Yonder

Summary: Jaskier lives in the modern world as Julian Alfred Pancratz. When his family vacations at an old castle his cousin owns, he discovers an old wardrobe that leads to the Continent. Specifically, it leads to a wardrobe belonging to Madeline de Stael.

The Pleasure of a Good Bath

Rated E

Summary: Geralt had always enjoyed baths. Since Jaskier had joined him, they'd gotten even better - and it was making it difficult to hide that he wanted more.

Porny Prompt Pile

Rated E

Summary: Just porny fics based on prompts. First chapter: Geraskier - blow job while standing Second chapter: Geraskier - Jaskier riles Geralt into rough sex

Relationships Require Communication

Summary: Jaskier liked to joke about him being allergic to the word ‘friends’, but he wasn’t far off. Geralt was aware that he was not good at talking, not good at feelings, and definitely not good about combining the two. After Yennefer and Jaskier leave him on the mountain, Geralt does some thinking about what happened and how exactly he messed up. And how to fix it.

Rushing Thoughts and Pulsing Hearts

Rated E

Summary: Geralt knew he was in love with Jaskier, but what could he do about it? No one believed Witchers could love. Not even him, sometimes.

So hold me, lover, like you used to

Rated E

Summary: When Geralt brings Cirilla to Oxenfurt to search for Jaskier, he was not expecting to walk into a concert the bard and another were giving together. Songfic based on The Amazing Devil.

When Words Act As Phantoms on Horseback

Summary: Jaskier gets Geralt used to the lack of silence. Without him, the silence creeps up on him and itches at his mind until he must break it. AKA how Netflix!Geralt slowly becomes more like Game!Geralt.

With Knot But A Look

Rated E

Summary: Jaskier asks tamed werewolf!Geralt to fuck him in the forest under the full moon.

Worth 100 Words

Summary: This is a Witcher drabble collection, using prompts. Mostly OT3 and family fics with Ciri.

Geralt getting railed fics:

A Cintran Welcome

Rated E

Summary: Geralt’s Witcher stamina is too much for Jaskier to handle alone, but he wants Geralt to experience being fucked to exhaustion. So he arranges a gangbang in Cintra. Featuring Geralt’s self–loathing getting overwhelmed with pleasure.

Forest of Plenty

Rated E

Summary: Geralt goes to visit his friend Mousesack for some fun and discovers that Mousesack and Jaskier have already anticipated his arrival and prepared quite a surprise for him.

I’m Yours to Claim

Rated E

Summary: Geralt knew he would eventually agree to go to Cintra. It was Jaskier asking, after all. He hadn't expected to run into his old friend and fuckbuddy, Mousesack, but it was nice to see him again.

Size Matters: The Geralt Size Queen Chronicles

Rated E

Summary: Just porn about Geralt being a size queen.

Cintra Fics:

5 Gifts from Family, 1 Vision of the Future, and 1 New Start

Summary: Pavetta gets to know her family after the banquet.

Artistic Endeavors

Rated M

Summary: Calanthe discovers that her daughter has a habit of drawing rather explicit art. For the Banned Together Bingo prompt "Porn". Set before Episode 4: Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials

Falling Into the Lion’s Den

Rated E

Summary: Calanthe and Eist have slept together many times, but it was never about feelings. So why does Eist propose to her and insist on changing everything?

Her Mother’s Legacy

Summary: Ciri had always had trouble with schooling. So if Geralt wants to train her in monster lore, he's going to have to do some things for her. Featuring ways Pavetta helped Ciri figure out how to manage her ADHD.

Like a Punch to the Face

Summary: “Oh sweet Cintra, you were so promising, from your spoiled princess to your stupid old king! But when I arrived, the royals were dead! Tossed out a window or shot in the head!” Ciri forced herself to keep walking past the puppet show, feeling like a fist had reached into her chest and ripped out her heart.

The Lion in the Woods

Summary: Mousesack teaches Ciri about the importance of balance.

The Lioness and the Seahound

Rated E

Summary: A collection of Calanthe/Eist porn fics. Chapter One: Calanthe positions Eist so that she can ride him while giving the illusion that she was taking him. Eist loves it.

Mousesack’s Educational Retreat for Proper Young Nobles

WiP

Summary: 13 year old Calanthe gets sent to a “whip-your-heirs-into-shape” 6 weeks and she is not happy about it. She’s also not delighted by this kid Eist, who is determined to become her friend, and sharing her room with 2 other noblewomen was not fun. Featuring 13 year olds’ interpretations of cultures, some significant cultural misunderstandings, and some slow but sure developing friendships.

O war! Thou son of hell

Summary: In the aftermath of war, Calanthe waits to feel the way everyone said she was supposed to.

Lambert/Aiden Fics:

An Evening of Frippery

Rated E

Summary: When Lambert and Aiden get invited to a fancy party, it’s the perfect excuse to dress up, dance, and have some fun.

Fuck Me Properly (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Aiden stumbles upon Lambert getting fucked by a plant. With tentacles. Then his brain kind of shorts out.

One Way to Skin a Cat (NEW!)

Summary: A reflection on Aiden's thoughts in the aftermath of his near death, and a realization of what Lambert must be thinking.

pretty witcher (walking down the street)

Rated E

Summary: Lambert decides to finally make his move, dressing up in his prettiest dress to encourage Aiden to give in to temptation. Before he has a chance, though, bandits force them into an unexpected position.

Silk and Lace

Rated E

Summary: When Aiden and Lambert split up on the road to tackle separate contracts before meeting again, Lambert takes the opportunity to spoil himself with pretty clothes and slow, drawn out pleasure.

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This (NEW!)

Rated M

Summary: Lambert wakes up when Aiden has a bad dream. Fortunately, he knows a good way to get Aiden's mind off of it.

Lambert/Jaskier Fics:

Desperate Affection

Rated E

Summary: Lambert didn't know when he'd fallen in love with the bard, but he could no longer imagine life at Kaer Morhen without him.

Wolf Witcher Fics:

Ensnared

Rated E

Summary: Lambert, Geralt, and Eskel have a long tradition where Eskel ties them up. This time, they've invited Aiden and Jaskier in on the fun.

The School of the Wolf

Summary: Vesemir is old, the oldest Witcher alive. Witchers don’t retire, they get slow and they die. He knows he's slowing down, but all he has left in this world is the boys he trained, and the legacy of the School of the Wolf.

Iorveth/Roche Fics:

A Kiss Can Mean A Thousand Things

Summary: Fills for kissing prompts based on the 50 Types of Kisses Writing Prompts

And Ghosts Did Shriek and Shrill

WiP

Rated M for violence/gore

Summary: After the unjust murder of his team, Vernon Roche is willing to do anything to get them back. Even if it means drawing on unspoken-of beliefs from a childhood in Velen.

Before All Else, Be Armed (NEW!)

Summary: Iorveth and Vernon Roche are finally getting together. But when it comes time to disrobe, they run into a few problems. Namely, the sheer number of concealed weapons each of them carry.

Brewing Romance and Dissent

WiP

Summary: When a spear to the eye means that Iorveth needs to take at least a year to recover, he decides to spend it undercover in a coffeeshop in Vizima's Royal Quarter. He's also not expecting his favorite customer to be a human.

Can’t We All Just Get Oolong?

WiP

Summary: In which Iorveth and Roche discover that Roche's mom Eliza works for both of them, drink lots of tea, and slowly get to know one another.

The Chase

WiP

Rated M

Summary: Iorveth likes making Roche chase him when the Blue Stripes and the Scoia'tael clash. When Roche manages to catch him one day, something entirely unexpected happens. And then it keeps happening.

Commander Roche’s Secret Lover (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Commander Roche is very clearly hiding a lover. His team tries to figure out who it could be.

Deep Inside Me (NEW!)

Rated E

WiP

Summary: Iorveth longs for things he shouldn't want and his attempt to ignore that ends up making everything worse.

Devour What’s Truly Yours

Rated E

Summary: When Roche discovers Iorveth inside a magical circle of flowers with pollen that makes you feel good, he was not at all prepared to find out what they had to do before they could leave.

A Dh’oine’s Only Use (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth arranges for his Scoia'tael to make use of his new whore, Vernon Roche. After all, a dh'oine's only use is as a hole to be fucked.

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Rated E

Summary: It totally doesn’t mean anything that Roche dreams of Iorveth.

‘Ere Our Souls Are Ground To Dust

Summary: After Nilfgaard conquered the continent and deigned to let Temeria be self-governed, Roche finds himself drowning in work trying to build a new government and keep an economy afloat (well, more get it back there for some parts of Temeria). Meanwhile, he and Iorveth were managing to live a fairly domestic life together. It had only been a few months, but it was going well. Then they have their first fight. Over coffee, of all things.

Every Kiss Begins With Kayran (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Every once in a while, there was a local brave enough to seek out the Kayran for a pleasant distraction. The Kayran was delighted to oblige. And sometimes, sometimes there were people who wanted a more regular experience. People like Iorveth, who had scheduled monthly fuck dates to work off the stresses of command. Neither of them expected to get discovered during one such session.

Explore That Which Sets Your Soul Aflame (NEW!)

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth very much was not expecting Vernon to ask about his ears. But if he's going to satisfy Vernon's curiosity, it's only right that Vernon satisfy his in return.

Eye on You

WiP

Rated E

Summary: 5 Times Iorveth Accidentally Watched Roche Come and 1 Time Roche Watched Him

False Positive (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: When Iorveth sneaks into Lobinden in disguise to enjoy the Imbolc festival, the last thing he expects is to deal with Vernon Roche - especially because Vernon doesn't know it's him.

The First Seeds of Trust

WiP

Rated E

Summary: As soon as Iorveth had started fighting vines rather than fighting him, Roche knew something was up. Still, nothing could have prepared him for what happened next.

Great Eggspectations (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: In the aftermath of Temeria's fall, Vernon Roche is feeling unmoored. So it only makes sense to track down his once-enemy. Iorveth has always encouraged his mind to bring its best and right now, he dearly needs that. He's in for a slight surprise when he actually finds Iorveth, though.

A Heart’s Fire (NEW!)

Summary: Skellige is the only kingdom without a price on Iorveth's head, so it only makes sense to seek shelter there after the Scoia'tael are disbanded. The isles are nice, but what had been pleasantly cool in summer now turns freezing in winter and elves were not made for temperature extremes. So of course Iorveth manages to get caught in a blizzard.

How to Fluster an Elf

WiP

Summary: When Geralt, Dandelion, and Zoltan make a casual remark about never having seen Iorveth flustered, Roche decides to take it as a challenge. Featuring Nilfgaardian feasts, cultural differences, really fancy beds and baths, and a witcher, a dwarf, and a bard who are having the time of their lives watching Roche try to catch Iorveth off guard.

It’s the Little Things

Summary: A collection of fills for various prompts! Chapter 1: “You. Rest. Now.”

The language of friendship is not words but meanings

WiP

Summary: When Geralt is hired by the Blue Stripes and the Scoia'tael to find their missing commanders, he discovers that not only have said commanders somehow turned into children, but that the two groups managed to scare them away before introductions could be made. Fortunately, Roche and Iorveth both have their own ways of making themselves understood.

Leap of Faith

WiP

Summary: When Roche changes the rules of engagement in a skirmish with the Scoia'tael, Iorveth ends up captured.

Needs More Dragons

Summary: Frankly, 2 dragons in all the Witcher stories? Not enough. So have some fics with random dragons! Chapter 1: Honey, I Adopted A Dragon: Iorveth may have acquired a baby dragon while Roche was traveling. Roche is about to find out.

Never Have I Ever

Summary: The Blue Stripes have an evening off. What better way to spend it than by playing drinking games?

On Knife’s Edge

Rated E

Summary: After they assist in the Battle of Kaer Morhen, Iorveth and Roche end up traveling back to Temeria together. An injury to Roche’s arm leaves him unable to shave himself, so it’s only polite for Iorveth to offer his assistance… right?

Olfucktory Senses (NEW!)

Rated E

WiP

Summary: Iorveth typically found the smell of human exertion to be nauseating. But when it's Vernon Roche's sweat, somehow he finds himself responding entirely differently.

Orificial Business

Rated E

WiP

Summary: When Roche hears a rumor that the Scoia’tael might be frequenting a brothel on the edge of town, he decides it’s worth going undercover to see.

Pining and Poignards (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Iorveth may spend a lot of time thinking about Vernon Roche, but it didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. Doesn't stop him from contemplating the possibilities, though. Meanwhile, Roche attempts to teach himself Elder Speech to translate the carvings on a knife Iorveth stabbed him with.

The Portrait of Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon (NEW UPDATE!)

WiP

Summary: Ciri hates the portrait from her childhood that Geralt displays openly and proudly and loudly. He shows it off to everyone he can and she wants to destroy it. Lucky for her, two fighting enemies present a prime opportunity to make the portrait's destruction look like an accident.

The Pride of Temeria

The Blue Stripes are Temeria's elite Special Forces Unit. Their mission is to hunt down the Scoia'tael, but in between fighting and drilling, they get up to an awful lot of shenanigans. “He looks like he’s dead,” Shorty said, poking the sleeping form of their commanding officer with a stick. “Shorty!” Silas hissed shrilly. The newbie was still scared of breaking rules and he fidgeted nervously. “What?” Shorty shrugged, “He sleeps like the dead, it’s fine. As long as he’s not actually dead, anyway.” “He’s not,” Ves, their erstwhile second in command, rolled her eyes. “He’s just fucking weird.” “Are you sure he’s okay? How can he possibly breathe like that?” Igo frowned in worry, which wasn’t surprising for the man who had accidentally become their de facto team therapist. “What he needs,” Thirteen pointed in what would have been a dramatic gesture if not for the drunken stumble, “is a goo’ pair o’ tits to bury his face in.”

Red is the Rose (Complete!)

When Roche gives Iorveth a rose of remembrance, Iorveth doesn't know what to think. Legend has it that if you give a rose to someone you love, then it’ll live forever, but surely that can't be true. After all, Roche is his enemy.

Run Away With Me

Summary: Iorveth and Roche spend a starlit night together. “Run away with me,” he murmured, only half aware of the words he was saying. But when Iorveth froze, they truly processed and suddenly cold fear gripped him. He stuttered a correction, “I mean – I know, obviously, you can’t just leave your people. It’s – I–” Iorveth cupped his face, cutting off the stream of words. “Vernon,” Iorveth said, voice soft and wondrous. “Vernon,” he said again, tugging Roche forward into a desperate kiss, full of wanting and longing and regret. Even though Roche already knew the answer – of course they couldn’t just run away together – he still had to close his eyes and brace himself against the words he knew were coming when Iorveth drew back again. “Cariad,” Iorveth whispered, stroking his face. “Were my life my own, I would go anywhere with you.”

Scenes from Another World

Summary: Standalone scenes based on different trope AUs, but set in the canon Witcher universe.

Sentiment and Condescension

Summary: Roche hadn’t been planning to go to the Vengelbud party, but as soon as Emhyr told him not to... Now if he could just get Iorveth to leave him alone, he could get wasted in peace.

Seven Seconds in Holding

Summary: Iorveth is very, very unclear on how his last fight with the Blue Stripes led to him here, spooning Roche in the Blue Stripes’ holding cell, both their wrists cuffed together.

Spousal Privilege

Summary: Stuck at a diplomatic conference, Roche is frustrated that none of the elves in the room will even acknowledge he exists. Then Iorveth enters and it's like seeing an old friend. And then somehow they end up pretending to be married.

A Stubbornly Persistent Illusion (NEW!)

WiP

Rated E

Summary: Roche wakes up in a different world, one where he and Iorveth are raising Foltest's children in the dwarven city of Vergen.

These Boots (are gonna walk all over you)

Rated E

Summary: Neither Iorveth nor Roche had expected their fight to go like this. Inspired by this gorgeous art.

Time is Cruel, To Rob Us from Ourselves

WiP

Summary: An AU of Don’t Cry for Me, Temeria/(Im)Perfect Strangers where a magical artifact sends everyone back through events of Iorveth’s past. Iorveth is less than pleased, but the insights into his character may be invaluable for more than one person present.

Under Pressure

WiP

Rated E

Summary: When Iorveth defeats Vernon Roche, he intends to take his time interrogating his enemy. Fortunately, an abandoned mage’s house nearby provides him with the perfect toys to make this fun.

The Value of a Man

WiP

Summary: When Iorveth finally defeats Roche, he decides that such a valuable prisoner is worth ransoming back to the King. After all, surely the King's Enforcer is worth a few concessions to elven rights. Right?

To Weave The Strands of Fate (NEW!)

WiP

Summary: There is a tradition in Velen. Whenever a child is born within Velen, a lock of their hair is cut off and gifted to the Ladies of the Wood. According to whispered legends, the Lady Weavess could add the hair to her loom and thereby change their Fate.

What Happens in the Cave-In Stays in the Cave-In

WiP

Summary: When Iorveth and Roche’s fight ends abruptly because of a cave in, they find themselves trapped together as they wait to be unburied. In the meantime, Roche is injured and Iorveth has herbs that could help - but all he knows about humans is “they need more”.

Wolves and Squirrels and Stripes

Rated E

Geralt/Iorveth/Roche

Summary: A collection of Witcher 2 short fics featuring Geralt, Iorveth, and Roche. Chapter 1: Iorveth had never expected this to happen when Geralt invited him to visit Kaer Morhen.

Saskia Fics:

Damned Be The Thoughts That Refuse To Leave (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Iorveth/Roche

Summary: When Saskia gifted him a toy shaped like a large human penis, Iorveth had sworn he would never use it. After all, it wasn't as if there were any humans he desired... right?

Shared Custody (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Iorveth/Roche

Summary: Iorveth wasn't sure how walking into Saskia's office to see her talking with Vernon Roche of all people led to the three of them jammed into a closet with him in the middle, but he supposed it could be worse.

What Goes Around Comes Around (NEW!)

Rated E

Saskia/Philippa

Summary: Philippa decides to give Saskia a little treat to wake up to. Saskia repays her in full.

157 notes · View notes

havenoffandoms · 3 years

Text

Sweeter Than You (Eskel/Lambert, Modern AU)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses prompt list.

Prompt: "A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating."

Pairing: Eskel/Lambert

Content Warning: Modern AU (lawyer Lambert, baker Eskel), implied sexual content at the end of the chapter (nothing graphic)

Read on AO3.

Lambert has had the shittiest day at work.

First, he got stuck in downtown Novigrad traffic even though his traffic app told him that the roads were all clear, which in turn made him late for his 9am meeting. Real professional, great first impression. His client was understanding about the situation, but Lambert hates being late, especially when he’s trying to score new clients for his firm. The meeting went well despite his tardiness, and Lambert is convinced he’ll get the case settled in no time, but his day just kept getting shittier and shittier. He ended up spilling hot coffee on his brand new suit and the only spare he kept at the office was slightly too snug when he put it on. Great, he apparently put on weight, too. That has to be Eskel’s fault, what with all the treats he bakes for Lambert at the weekend.

If the day wasn’t bad enough, Lambert’s car broke down on his way to lunch with an important client. It took the tow-truck a whole hour to get to him, which meant that Lambert had to cancel on his client and lose out on a potential settlement agreement. To add insult to injury, the sandwich Lambert ended up buying from a nearby bakery tasted of ass. Though admittedly Lambert’s taste buds have considerably developed since he started dating Eskel, because the man is a literal genius in the kitchen. Lambert can’t eat generic sandwiches anymore without comparing them to Eskel’s creations.

When the tow-truck finally showed up, Lambert decided to call time of death on this generally miserable day. He called his secretary and told her to clear his diary for the day, which he knew that Essi would pull off. She’s hands down the best secretary in the whole of Novigrad, in Lambert’s eyes anyway, and well worth the considerable salary he pays her each month. After calling Essi, Lambert hailed down a taxi only to find that he left his wallet in his car, which was now being towed away to the nearest garage. Great. Just fantastic.

Fuck this shit, fuck his car, fuck his job, and fuck the entire universe.

Lambert just starts walking without a clear destination in mind. His suit is too tight and uncomfortable, but he can’t bring himself to care as he tries to work off the anxious energy bubbling in his chest. He wants to scream, or punch something, whatever yields the most satisfaction. Why is the world against him today? What did he do to deserve this? Lambert considers dialling Eskel, but he knows that his boyfriend won’t be able to hear the phone if he’s at work.

Oh, wait a second.

Lambert looks around for the first time since storming off and he quickly realises that he’s not actually too far away from Eskel’s shop. The thought brightens his mood a little - if Lambert’s not able to go home and hide away from the world, at least he can spend the afternoon helping his boyfriend out in the bakery. Or just wait until Eskel has a minute to spare so Lambert can hug out all his frustrations in the backroom… or do other things in Eskel’s office. With a renewed spring in his step, Lambert makes haste towards Eskel’s shop.

It doesn't take long for him to reach Lil Titbits, a quaint-looking shop just off the main street of Novigrad's business centre. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but Lambert knows just how hard Eskel worked to make the inside of his shop as inviting and cosy as humanly possible. As soon as Lambert steps inside the bakery, the heavenly smell of warm baked bread and freshly made coffee invades his nostrils. If he closes his eyes, he can almost pretend like he’s stepping inside his and Eskel’s home rather than his boyfriend’s shop.

The little bell above the door chimes loudly, announcing his presence. Lambert instantly notices that the place is quiet - which is not unusual for a Wednesday afternoon, when most of Eskel’s customers are still either at work or at school. Lambert notices an elderly couple sitting in the booth by the window, enjoying a generous slice of lemon-meringue pie - oh fuck, Lambert loves Eskel’s lemon-meringue pies - between themselves. Lambert can’t fathom why anyone would share a slice of pie that good, especially since Eskel’s creations are by far the best fucking thing Lambert’s ever tasted. People are weird.

Apart from those two customers, the place is empty. It doesn’t take long for Eskel to appear behind the counter, wearing his favourite apron, the one that reads “They Call Me Darth Baker” written in a white font on the black fabric. Geralt, Eskel’s brother, bought him that apron for Christmas, but Lambert never thought Eskel would actually wear it at work, for every customer to see, but that’s Eskel for you. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about what people think of him. Lambert has always admired that about him.

“Hey babe,” Eskel greets him, his smile bright enough to rival the moon, stars, and the fucking sun. The deep baritone of his boyfriend’s voice washes over Lambert in calming waves. “Bit early for you to be here. Everything alright?”

Lambert’s legs move of their own volition, and before he knows it, he’s behind the counter burying himself in the warmth and safety of Eskel’s arms. “I am now,” he breathes, his tone just on that side of pouty, before rubbing his cheek against Eskel’s nerdy apron. He doesn’t give a shit if the customers at the back of the shop see them, nor does he care if he ends up with flour in his beard. He needs this, needs to feel Eskel close, because today’s been a shitty day and the only person who can make it better is his boyfriend.

“Oh sweetheart, what’s up?” Eskel asks, his voice soft and reassuring like he’s talking to a spooked animal. Lambert only tightens his hold around Eskel, not ready to break the sweetness of the moment by reminiscing about his not-so-good-very-bad day. “Wanna move through to the kitchen?”

That, in fact, sounds like a great fucking idea. Lambert almost whines when Eskel pulls away from him, but the urge quickly fades when Eskel laces their fingers together and drags Lambert through the back by the hand. Once they have regained a semblance of privacy, Lambert lets Eskel pull him into another soul-crushing hug.

“I hate everything. And everyone. Well no, not everyone. I don’t hate you.”

“Mmh, good to know,” Eskel rumbles, sounding amused, “what happened, puppy?”

Lambert buries deeper in Eskel’s embrace as he replies, his words slightly muffled by the fabric of Eskel’s apron.

“Got stuck in traffic this morning, then was late for my meeting, spilt coffee on my suit, my car broke down, I missed lunch with a potential client who’s worth a buttload of money, and I’m getting fat,” Lambert ends, his tone decidedly whiny when he’s reminded of just how snug his emergency suit feels. Damn Eskel and his ridiculously good treats.

“Naw, hell Lamb,” Eskel shifts and grabs something resting on the working surface behind him. When Lambert looks up, he sees Eskel holding what looks to be a lemon and white chocolate muffin inches away from Lambert’s face. “Open up! My baking always cheers you up.”

“Your baking is the reason why I’m getting fat!” Lambert grouses half-heartedly, his tongue poking out from between his lips to lick at the buttercream frosting covering the top of the muffin. “Mmmh, white chocolate! I knew it.”

“Was gonna save it for you to celebrate your new client. Guess it can also be used as a consolatory muffin,” Eskel brings the treat closer to Lambert’s lips and offers a small, encouraging smile, “c’mon, take a bite. I promise you’ll feel better.”

Lambert can’t resist Eskel’s pretty eyes anyway, so he happily lets his boyfriend feed him the muffin. Lambert takes a huge chunk out, the white chocolate and lemon flavours exploding on his tongue pulling an appreciative moan. Lambert’s eyes flutter shut as he savours his morsel, and when he opens them again, he sees Eskel’s smile has widened into a pleased grin.

“Good?” he asks, like there’s any fucking doubt about how good his muffin tastes.

“As always,” Lambert whispers in response, snatching the muffin out of Eskel’s hand and stuffing what’s left of it in his mouth. Eskel levels him with an unimpressed look, clicking his tongue in disapproval at his boyfriend’s actions.

“You’re gonna choke one of these days,” Eskel tells him, trying not to laugh as Lambert tries to chew around the massive bite in his mouth, “look at your lil hamster cheeks. Adorable.”

Lambert glares - the full effect of his scowl is probably lost on Eskel, though, with how Lambert is still struggling to swallow his treat - but the intention is there. Eskel shakes his head fondly before leaning in and catching Lambert’s lips in a chaste kiss which probably tastes sweet and lemony, but Eskel doesn’t seem to mind the taste of his dessert on Lambert’s lips. It takes Lambert a little while to swallow the food in his mouth, but when he does, he puckers his lips in a silent request for more of Eskel’s sweet kisses.

“Yes?” Eskel teases, raising one eyebrow, “can I help you?”

Lambert’s lower lip juts out into a sad pout at those words, an action that pulls a warm chuckle from deep within Eskel’s chest. He takes pity on Lambert and pulls him impossibly closer to his firm body, rubbing his nose against Lambert’s in a tender gesture. Lambert’s hands come to rest on Eskel’s hips, where he squeezes the soft flesh of his boyfriend’s puppy fat. Gods, but he loves absolutely everything about Eskel.

“Can you close the shop early today and take me home?” Lambert asks, voice barely above a whisper, as he stretches up to capture Eskel’s mouth in a demanding kiss that leaves very little as to which kind of activity Lambert has in mind for their evening together. His hand squeezes Eskel’s hip more firmly, pulling a needy whine from his boyfriend in response.

“Minx,” Eskel growls under his breath, punctuating his statement with a final kiss, “I’ll see what I can do.”

As Eskel walks away, Lambert doesn’t miss the way his boyfriend has to readjust his pants which are now tenting at the front. Lambert leans back against the worktop of Eskel’s baking table, and first undoes the buttons of his suit jacket, then the top three buttons of his shirt. He, unlike Eskel, isn’t trying to hide the visible bulge forming in his far too tight pants, dammit.

“You do what you have to do, sweetheart,” Lambert speaks in a sultry tone, the irritation brought on by a rather shitty start to the day long forgotten when he meets Eskel’s lust-blown eyes, “I’ll be right here, looking like a goddamn snack for you the whole time.”

Eskel curses under his breath, pointedly looking away from Lambert.

“Bastard. You just wait until we get home,” Eskel threatens half-heartedly before leaving the kitchen to empty the showcases and store the pastries in the refrigerators on the main shop floor. Lambert feels positively giddy with anticipation at the thought of how him and Eskel will spend the rest of the evening.

Lambert’s day, in spite of everything, doesn’t seem so shitty in the end, not when he’s got Eskel to come home to.

#the witcher #eskel the witcher #the witcher eskel #eskel #the witcher lambert #lambert the witcher #lambert #lambert x eskel #eskel x lambert #lambert/eskel #eskel/lambert #lambskel #modern AU #baker Eskel #lawyer Lambert #havenwrites #fluff #kiss prompts

5 notes · View notes

snowdice · 4 years

Text

Something Left (Part 1 of the series Is There Anything Left of Patton?)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: Logan, Virgil, Patton(?)

Summary: Virgil has been living in Logan’s house for 3 months and they get along pretty good. Their abilities seem to balance each other out making them a good team for the apocalyptic world outside their door.

Then he finds the secret in Logan’s basement... He almost wishes that secret was as simple as he first thought it was.

In which I set up a world where Logan is probably crying like 85% of the time.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton.

Three months. It had been what passed for a normal three months, a good three months even. Especially when compared to the three months before it and even more to the three months before that. Don’t even get him started on the three months before that; those months had been the shittiest months. Those three months had started out with him working at a coffee shop trying to pay rent while look for a better job and ended with him almost dying because he had to jump off a bridge into running water to save himself from a pack of zombies.

These last three months had been good comparatively. This was mostly because he’d been living in Logan’s house for almost the entire time. Logan’s house had actually been his (as far as Virgil could tell) from before. That or he’d bothered to lug cases of old college textbooks with his handwriting scribbled in the margins and boxes of photographs with him in them through the zombie apocalypse.

It was a nice house even now and sat on the outskirts of what used to be a town. Virgil had no idea how he’d managed to hold down the fort during the outbreak or how he’d managed to not get overrun after it. He imagined that the population of the dead in the vicinity of his house was a lot smaller now than it had been at onset, but it was still sizable enough that Virgil had almost gotten eaten while scavenging in a neighboring house. That is how his met Logan.

Virgil had been certain he’d been about to die since he’d just barely been holding back teeth from chomping his face, when a single bullet had gone through the zombie’s head and embedded itself right to the left of Virgil’s own skull. Even just the one gunshot, of course, alerted every mindless carnivore in the area of their location, so they’d scrambled into his house to wait it out.

Virgil had just… not left. He’d never really been invited, but he’d also never been asked to leave so he’d just stayed. He contributed of course. Virgil was pretty good with the little garden out back while Logan seemed to have… whatever the opposite of a green thumb was. He seemed to appreciate Virgil taking it over. Virgil was pretty sure the plants themselves cried in relief.

Despite his lack of skill in the gardening department, Logan was pretty good at things like hunting (managing to only kill the zombie and not also shoot Virgil had not been a lucky shot) and keeping the house structurally sound. They both were okay at scavenging which was much easier with two of them and they worked well together.

Also, Logan was nice to talk to, especially since Virgil had been alone for a long time during the last year. He was a good guy if a bit eccentric. He’d disappear for hours into the maze that was his house and Virgil often found him reading in odd places, but he was chill and smart.

Well.

At least, that’s what Virgil had thought.

“God dammit. You’re one of those people. Fuck.” Virgil said.

“It,” he said standing in his secret, fucking, dead body prison basement, “It isn’t like that.”

“You know, Logan,” Virgil said. “That’s what they all say.” He gestured at the thing in the cage. Even though he knew there was nothing going on in its head, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for it all trussed up like that in the corner, squirming and making horrible sounds behind a gag. “So, what? Huh? Is it someone you think you care about too much to put out of its misery even though it might kill anything it comes into contact with? Are you keeping it for some sort of last-minute defense for your house? Do you do science experiments on it out of some perverted need to know more about them? Tell me, because I’ve honestly run the gambit of crazy assholes in the last year.”

“No,” Logan said. “I…” he sighed. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh, I don’t understand?” Virgil scoffed. “Why don’t you explain it to me? Why do you have a zombie in the basement of your house. The house I lived in for the past three months without you thinking to tell me about this?”

Logan looked at him for a moment. “Very well.” He grabbed a set of keys on the wall and moved over to the enclosure.

Virgil lunged forward to grab his arm when he moved to put the key in the lock. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Logan didn’t try to pull away from his hold. He just spoke calmly, face neutral. “He is restrained well on the other side of this cell. I will lock the door behind me. You won’t be in danger.”

“You’re fucking nuts,” Virgil spat. “What am I supposed to do. Just stand on the other side of the bars and watch you get ripped to shreds by that thing?”

“I will not get ripped to shreds,” Logan promised. “I’ve been in that cell many times. I know how to deal with him. Please let me explain myself.”

Virgil cursed, but released him. He took a few long steps back while Logan unlocked the cage. His warry eyes went to the creature who was stirring at the noise, but it did seem well restrained. As he had promised, Logan locked the door behind himself.

The thing grew more agitated as Logan approached, straining against its bonds and making sickening noises behind the gag. Logan went to his knees in front of it, a sad smile on his face. “Hello Patton.” Logan reached for the handcuff locks.

“You’re so fucking nuts!” Virgil said, but it did not deter the other man and it was not like Virgil could stop him from the other side of the bars. He didn’t even have the keys if he wanted to enter the cage. When Logan released the thing’s arms, it reached forward, its fingers grazing Logan’s cheeks in a move Virgil recognized. He’d seen people get pulled in with motions like that. Mindless dead fingers grabbed and grabbed, pulling you toward deadly teeth so they could tear you apart. The only thing keeping Logan from being a snack was the gag in the things mouth, but as Virgil watched, he reached up a hand to take that out. From experience, Virgil expected it to lunge directly towards Logan’s neck, but it… but it didn’t.

It continued to reach for him, and the raspy moans got even more haunting without the gag smothering them, but it did not attack. Despite all rational thought, Virgil felt himself draw closer to the bars of the cell to watch. Logan calmly set the gag to the side as though he was not being clawed at by a mindless dead thing and then, he reached up to press the inside of his wrist to the creature’s mouth. “I don’t know why,” Logan said, very much not being bitten. The creature seemed discontented with this new thing covering its mouth and titled its face to get away. “Perhaps it is a different strain of the virus or something went wrong with the turning. Maybe it’s just him. He was a good man in his life. He wouldn’t even let me kill bugs he found in the house. Perhaps there is an echo of that leftover that keeps him from hurting people. Or maybe it’s just me; I wouldn’t risk anyone else to test out if he’d attack another. That’s why I keep him restrained here.”

“I…” Virgil said. “Fuck.”

Logan looked up and Virgil was shocked to see that despite the level tone he’d been using the whole time, there were tears leaking from his eyes. “You can see why I can’t just finish him off though. Even if perhaps I should. I just…” and his voice finally wavered as he gave an aborted sob. The creature reached and reached mindlessly for him, brushing his face again and again with its fingertips. Logan grabbed its hands and held them between his own. “I-I don’t know what you want, dear,” he whispered. The creature wiggled and pulled against the grip. Logan cleared his throat. “Virgil would you perhaps mind sliding me the first aid kit on the table over there?”

Virgil obeyed, grabbing it and sliding it through the bars to him. He took it and opened it with practiced ease. “You’ve hurt yourself again,” Logan said at a volume that made Virgil sure it was not meant for him. “Here, I’ll fix you right up. It’s okay.” There was a minute pause in the sounds it made. A reaction to the words? To the tone of them? Or did it just finally need a breath? Virgil could not be sure. It did not pause in the reaching, and the moaning started full force again right after. Logan rubbed some sort of cream into a mark near the creature’s elbow.

“Does that work?” Virgil asked. Most zombies he’d seen didn’t appear like they ever healed. They were often rotted and limping.

“He’s still living in some sense of the word. He heals if wounds are properly treated and he has enough nutrition. In fact, he seems to heal faster than before.”

Nutrition. “And uh, what do you feed him?”

“Meat. He doesn’t seem to have a preference for cooked or raw. He won’t eat anything else. Well, except for baked potatoes for some reason.”

“Backed potatoes?”

“He won’t eat mashed or fried.”

The creature stopped reaching for Logan in favor of attempted to get at the cream on its skin with its mouth. “No,” Logan scolded. It did not respond. He pushed its head back and picked up bandages to start wrapping the area.

“You know this is crazy, right?” Virgil asked.

“I do, but what do you expect me to do when there is something left of him?”

“I. Fuck,” was Virgil’s response. “Fuck.”

Want to read more? This is now part of a series! Click below for the next part of this story.

Someone You’ll Never Meet

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #adriana writes #zombie au #past major character death #angst #italop

199 notes · View notes

smarmaladey · 4 years

Text

The Bad Touch - (2/3)

Chapter 2 - ��nothin’ but mammals”

Rating: 🇪

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizzare Adventure

Relationships: 🐞♡🚺

Words: 4260

Ao3 Link Prev.

(For content warnings and additional notes, click read more)

Things get worse for our “lovely” heroine.

cw: rape/non-con elements, AU (probably), ooc (probably), break-ins(?)

Enjoy!!

♡🐞♡

Monday.

7:00 AM.

The second incident.

♡🐞♡

If there was one word you'd never use to describe yourself, it'd be "independent".

In other words, you weren't a leader, you were always a follower. You simply took jobs from people, didn't question anything, and always did them the best you could. And you liked it that way.

This always seemed like the best option, as you were, admittedly, not a thinker, so your mentality was always this: do what the higher-ups say and nothing shall go wrong.

Of course, that little philosophy of yours was tested once you woke up to a certain phone call.

A phone call from a voice you couldn't recognize at all, notifying you that you left a couple of your belongings at Giovanna's estate. The man had told you to wait, wait at your home until they could arrive and, as he put it, “smooth things out”.

Like hell I’m going to do that.

While you didn’t think Giovanna was screwed up enough to, say, stick the assassination squad on you for rejecting his advances, perhaps rejecting his advances, destroying his property, referring to him by his first name, and walking out before you were dismissed, all in the span of around 50 seconds could, at the very least, spell a bit of trouble.

So, you devised a simple little plan, all on your own.

Sneak into the estate. (Easy)

Grab your jacket and folder, and check for stains. (Also easy. Probably)

Leave without being seen by anyone. (Less easy)

Sleep, and/or change your name and move away, depending on the aftermath. (Preferably to the west of America, or anywhere outside of Europe. Not so easy)

You never imagined going back to that place the day after the whole fiasco, but it really was your only choice.

Sneaking into the building would be a piece of cake, being that your entire profession, as well as your ability, Black Hole Sun, was centered around avoiding all kinds of surveillance.

Black Hole Sun, put in the simplest way, allowed you to turn “light” into “weight”. It manifested as a cluster of pitch-black flowers and mushrooms that could sprout anywhere in a 15-20 meter radius, absorbing any light that reached them. This was ideal for creating shadows, blending into said shadows, or turning any light source into a means of vacuum-based destruction. Hell, if given the chance, you could collapse any building from the roof down, given it was daytime.

Of course, collapsing Giovanna’s home would probably be like destroying 1000 expensive lamps at once, but that’s neither here nor there, you know?

By the time you had reached the wide expanse of his property, there were only a scarce amount of people standing around. A few figures were leaving the building, but none seemed to be entering at all.

While threading between the trees around the building, you racked your brain trying to figure out where your belongings could have been. There was a decent chance they were still in his office, but you didn’t want to risk A, walking in on a possible meeting/debriefing, or B, accidentally getting caught by him, so you passed on visiting that room.

Problem was, that was the only room you knew the exact location of.

In the end, you didn’t come up with an exact idea of where your stuff could be, so instead, you decided that you’d simply check every square foot of the building. You ended up at the very back of the building, and while the expansive garden in the back was gorgeous, it didn’t exactly have good hiding spots.

You ended up prying open the largest window you saw, and carefully stepping in onto the floor as carefully as you could. As you looked around, you allowed B • H • S to dissipate, letting color fade back into your silhouette.

The room you ended up in seemed to be some kind of sunroom, the window you climbed in from giving a perfect view of the garden, as well as casting gorgeous light onto the decorated interior.

The walls to your sides were, not unlike Giovanna’s office, lined with bookshelves, this time not hyper-organized. Houseplants of different colors bloomed in multiple different places, and right next to the door was a cushioned red armchair and ottoman.

And here I was thinking he had no sense of interior decor.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t help but get distracted by the overall pleasantness of the room. Unlike the office, the temperature was nice and cool, not absolutely Siberian, and the sunlight felt nice on your flesh. Using that “every square foot” line from earlier as an excuse, you started examining the books on the shelves.

You shuffled down the row on your tiptoes, slowly, still trying to be as quiet as you could. A good chunk of the choices of literature displayed were rather surprising, you taking special note of a few books in English, and some in Japanese, both languages you didn’t realize he was familiar with. The titles you could understand were also interesting-- a lot of stuff about the supernatural, especially as you got near the end of the shelves.

Stowing away your folder in these shelves would probably be a smart move…

“Has something caught your eye?”

You bumped into something warm, stopping you right in your tracks.

Holy fuck.

The sight made your heart freeze, taking near all energy from your legs and causing you to plummet onto the floor.

“If you want to borrow any of them, feel free to ask. Do you know much English?” Giovanna, looking as prime as ever, asked. He was clearly feigning innocence, leaning over you with a glint in his eye.

To you, he looked 10 meters tall.

With your brain short-circuiting, you would've spat out incoherent babbling if you chose to speak at that moment. Fortunately, you took a second to come up with a rebuttal, putting on the fakest expression you could muster.

"Oh, here and there, y'know? Not anything very...advanced...but…"

You forced a laugh and he smiled at you, lips even glossier and more vibrant than yesterday.

He offered to help you up with a simple gesture, but with the grace of a crippled swan, you rose to your feet and backed away.

To your dismay, it only prodded him to get closer.

"So, what brought you here this morning? I don’t exactly remember inviting you." He was still staring down at you, enraging the deepest, most insecure part of your brain because he's fucking younger than me why is he so much taller-

"Uhm," you swallowed a thick clot of saliva in your throat. "I...just wanted to admire your...interior decorating…"

Shittiest excuse I've ever come up with in my life.

Giovanna stepped closer with his left, you stepped back with your right. "Is that so…? Are you sure it wasn't for...this?"

From behind his back, as if it came out of thin air, he pulled out your peacoat and held it out to you. You stifled a gasp, and reflexively reached out to take it, but at the last second he pulled it back again.

“Ah, what do we say now?” He teased, as if you were a child, smiling.

You couldn’t help but smile back at him, rolling your eyes. “Grazie, Giorn--” midway through saying his first name, you stopped and slapped your hand over your mouth. “Shi- Er, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

His expression dropped for a split-second before he started laughing, putting you off a tad. “That’s so adorable...!”

That last word made your cheeks flush, replaying memories from the previous afternoon that drove you to step away from him. “...Right. Ahem, could I please have my coat back now?”

“Oh, certainly.” Relief.

“But…” Oh.

The tension in the room felt like it got darker, as he raised the black garment closer to his face. “...I have a couple suspicions of my own…”

He stepped closer with his right, you stepped back with your left. “This morning, I went out of my way to get in contact with my most trusted men, so I could return your things to you safely...then, they tell me you’ve hung up on them!”

It felt cold.

“And when they get to your home, you’re nowhere to be found!”

What?

You weren’t given any time to unpack that, as he continued to go off. “Now you’re here! Without even letting me know, too...” He frowned a bit, but perked up soon enough. “But that’s alright! Because I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Huh…” All thoughts came out as a single hiccup. “What...I don’t…”

He appeared to grow a little angry, but more distraught than anything. “Bella!” he cried, knuckles white and arms trembling. “Didn’t I tell you not to act like that with me? Don’t pretend that you can’t remember what happened yesterday…”

The worst thing was, he was 100 percent right. You were pretending that you forgot what went down, when it was, unsurprisingly, on your mind since it happened. You were feigning (well, attempting to feign) innocence, hoping that it wouldn’t lead to another nightmare.

“But…” Giovanna sighed, switching moods too quickly for your liking. “That doesn’t matter anyways!” His smile was disgustingly, unbearably cute. “Because you came back to me! I knew you would!”

A chill went down your spine, prompting you to step back twice. “I, uh, think you’ve got the wrong idea--” You were cut off by him approaching again, holding his hand right in front of your face.

“See?”

What the hell is he talking about?

“I cut my nails for you last night…” He looked over his own, now shortened and even rounder, snow-white nails, “it must’ve been a bit painful when I touched you, I’m sorry about that…”

You didn’t appreciate his “apology” one bit, instead deciding to take another step back, frantically searching for the window so you could pull off an escape before it was too late. You felt the lukewarm glass on the tips of your fingers, but Giovanna stepped a bit too close for your liking, causing you to shift to the other side, eventually turning around entirely as he refused to back off.

Now the two of you had rotated, with him backing you back into the room, towards the door. The light shining from the back window bounced off the satin material of his clothing and golden accents, glaring into your eyes.

The reflexive need to close your eyes outweighed rational thought, and as soon as you blinked them shut your calves bumped against something, causing you to trip backwards and fall onto the (remarkably comfortable) red chair.

Once more, you were flattened before him, staring up with no idea of what was going to go down.

Well, you had a vague idea.

The golden boy had already made sure you couldn’t get away by just getting up, as he was standing over you in between the ottoman and the chair, one foot on the floor and the other resting right next to yours. You had caught him glancing at the light switch right by the door, making sure it was off.

Without a light source in the room, you had no good method of getting away, and collapsing the window at the other side would be useless if you couldn't even get to it.

Cornered, you dug your nails into the arms of the chair, glaring at him while pushing your head back into the cushion.

The look in his green eyes was strange, a disturbing mix of innocence and lust that made the lower half of your body feel restless. A few seconds of silent eye contact passed, before he reached down and grabbed your wrist.

You attempted to tug it away as he held it up, only to be met with a cold glare. His grip tightened before he transferred it to G • E, reaching down and doing the same to your other hand.

Straightening himself, he flipped his long braid over his shoulder. You watched as he worked off the lowest hair tie, letting the loop at the end fall loose. He stretched out the transparent band and wrapped it around both of your wrists, before tapping it again with his middle three fingers.

You felt your thin binding shift between tight and loose as it swelled and turned green. The hair tie had changed into a tight coil of stems and vines, covered in thin bristles.

When you tried to struggle, to break the botanical bindings, the bristles irritated your skin. He noticed, and pushed your hands above your head.

"Please, it's useless to try and get away from me now. I don't want you to be in pain, you know?" He punctuated his sentence with a gentle caress of your face with the back of his hand, and a peck to the tip of your nose.

He rose up and moved behind the ottoman, all while sliding his warm hand across the skin of your legs. After subtlety clearing his throat, he tried, (keyword, tried) to dip his hand between your thighs, only for you to squeeze them shut in a futile attempt to preserve your dignity.

You heard him quietly cough again, while he squeezed and then gently patted the plush flesh, as if telling you to open up. Still, you didn't give in.

His skin felt so hot against yours, like there was near boiling water flowing through his veins. Giovanna gave up trying to pry open your legs, instead pushing the ottoman right up to the chair, moving in front of it, and pulling you a smidge closer so that you were laying flat on your back.

He started by grabbing the bottom of your thighs, lifting them up then pushing back the bottom of your knees, so both legs were relatively straight, pointing up to the ceiling. G • E took hold of both ankles, keeping your limbs still.

“Wait…” You croaked out as you felt him hook his fingers into the waistbands of your bottoms. “Wha--what are you doing, Gior--” fuck.

He stopped what he was doing to look at you, and scoffed. "You're kidding, right?" Lowering your legs a bit, his lips curled into a cute little smile. "Oh, cara, you know I have much bigger things to worry about than what you call me." He leant down to hold your face in both of his hands. "Besides, we should be on a first name basis now, no?"

One part of your brain was absolutely enraged at the fact that you were still concerned about something as dumb as that, yet it still felt like a lingering weight had been lifted from your chest.

Giorno clearly didn’t like the fact that you were avoiding his eyes, and his solution was to squeeze your face a little tighter and kiss you with no warning, not hesitating to shove his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away after you whined, drinking in the intoxicating sight of you with your lips ajar, face obviously heated, and your eyes glossy. It confused him a little, everything about your appearance, your body was telling him that you craved this just as much as (or even more than!) he did, yet everything that came out of your mouth was a contradiction!

But he didn’t let that frustrate him too much, as he knew you’d eventually give in completely. All he had to do was get the mood right. Because that’s just how it worked. Right? Right.

Lifting himself off of you, he let out a small sigh while raising your legs again, continuing whatever he had planned in that unholy little brain of his. His fingers returned to the waistband of your pants, digging between both layers of fabric and painstakingly beginning to hoist them off.

The feeling of your underwear peeling off of your crotch was already humiliating, but you knew it was just the beginning.

He let go of your clothes when they were around your ankles, before lowering himself down to “your” level.

"N-no...don't~ ♡ ! " your throat was so clammed up that your voice sounded like a broken squeaker toy, but even if you tried to shout, you knew he wouldn't listen. It was too late, anyway, since now he’s already seen everything you’d previously tried to hide. (Physically, at least.)

After a few seconds of him (presumably) leering at your privates, you felt his touch on the plump, slippy flesh, before he slid two fingers into the cleft and parted it.

"Oh, look~♡" each limb began to quiver at his honeyed, sickly voice. "It's so cute and pink here…"

Out of pure mortification, you brought your hands down and shoved two of your fingers in your maw, biting down. "No! N...not there...don't look at it…♡" Your voice and words sounded callow, but your brain was too fried to mask your true thoughts.

His hands moved to your thighs, right before he placed a pert kiss to the very center of your vulva.

Oh, lord. You could feel the mark his lipgloss left.

Despite yourself, there was a growing pressure in your gut that had you, deep, deep down, craving more. Something wet and hot swept against your inner labia, instantly making your fingers curl into fists. You pressed your knuckles against your teeth, trying to suppress a inadvertent whine.

“You can let your voice out,” you heard him say after pulling away for a second, “I doubt anybody is going to come around here.” Wow, how reassuring! Thanks for telling me, asshole! Ignoring the pain from the bristles, you moved your hands to your eyes, desperately trying to cover them. To an outsider, it’d probably look like you were attempting to gouge them out.

The wet noises that came from him lapping at you bouncing off the walls, almost amplified, taunted you. Additionally, he’d sometimes let out soft little groans of his own, which vibrated the very surface of your flesh. It was needless to say that his tongue felt a lot more invasive than his fingers, (and unfortunately, it also felt better) feeling it probe inside the most intimate part of your body drew ever-loudening wails and whimpers from your stuffy throat.

You could tell his mouth was somehow even warmer than his external skin, even inside of your already warm internals it felt nearly sweltering. Occasionally, he’d pull back for a very quick second to sigh out your name or other 1-word comments, his voice getting more brittle each time.

Something you also picked up on was very, very, subtle swallowing, as if he was drinking the mix of his saliva and your fluids.

That pressure in your gut kept pulsing, falsely building up in a way that could only be described as the physical-pleasure equivalent of a Shepard tone. In desperation, or maybe protest, you wiggled your hips, which only seemed to tempt him to grow more intense.

Your cynical side kept trying to tell you to give up, to accept this and whatever was coming next, to submit to the inevitable. It seemed that you unwittingly listened to it, relaxing your limbs and giving up on trying to muffle your voice.

In the midst of the ever-growing haze, you felt him pull away and move his hand up your thigh. He pushed his thumb between your legs, again silently asking you to open up. This time though, you obliged and spread your thighs, all while trying to press the side of your head onto the cushion, in a vain attempt to “hide”.

He gave no warning, no words before moving up and swathing your engorged clit in his idyllic lips, and that was really where things on your end began to topple.

Near instantaneously, you curled upward, letting out a strained squeal, feeling tears prick in your eyes. You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision leading up to this point.

Too bad your body wasn’t regretting anything.

"Suh..top...♡ I’ll...I’m gonna…”

You peeked down through your hands and caught him glancing up at you, which just made your body retort in embarrassment again. In a thoughtless moment, you tried putting your hands against his silky, loosening hair, the bindings preventing you from grabbing it comfortably.

As he put more pressure on your tender pearl, your steady stream of tears reached the bottom of your head, dripping down and soaking into the seat. You couldn’t help but tighten your legs around him, at this point, all you craved was sweet, glorious release.

One more stroke of your nub, and it all crash-landed. That ever-growing pressure in your belly burst and spread, making you let out a long, high-pitched wail as your body went limp underneath him. Tears veiled your sight, directed at the ceiling.

Giorno pulled away, panting, before wiping his mouth with his sleeve and moving up the chair, so he could hover above you once more. His long, loose plait hung down and rested on your shoulder, giving you a very faint tickle.

“...was that...good?” You didn’t respond to him, as your mind was flooded with a swarm of fatigue and dopamine, “I...I apologize, I’m still very...new to this…” yet that part was enough to snap you out of your post-orgasm muddle.

“New”?

Fuck’s that supposed to mean?

Don’t tell me he’s…

No, that can’t be right…

“It can’t…” Those two words accidentally slipped out, but they were barely intelligible. Your blondie boss (bloss?) didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy smiling at how cute you looked, all spent, drooling, and tearing up underneath him.

He straightened up a bit, your legs still wrapped around his hips, tittering. “You’re adorable, you know that?” He got no response. “Ah...I love you. You know that, right?” No response.

That didn’t seem to bother him, as his smile stayed. After a few tense seconds, you turned your head and looked up at him, and his grin seemed to widen.

“Cute...hm, I still don’t understand why you insisted on stopping your voice, I, personally, love the way it sounds.” He still wasn’t eliciting a vocal response, instead you dropped your head to the other side. Your continued silence finally looked like it was beginning to phase him, so he reached down and lifted your face a bit.

He tried to kiss you, but missed and got the very side of your mouth. You were once more reminded about how hot (literally...but also figuratively) he was, his face burning with pink and his breath near visible in the cool room.

Losing some of his control, he kept his mouth on you, his actions devolving into repeatedly pecking at your cheek while groaning “compliments”. Eventually, he straightened up again, eyes filled with something that could possibly be described as “love”.

“Well, I don’t see the point of going upstairs, why don’t we move on?” He asked, fruitlessly, before sitting up to work at his pants button. Unbeknownst to him, you watched him do this, part scared, part intrigued, but mostly weary.

He was about to tug down his suit pants the moment before a sudden, firm knock at the door echoed through the room.

“Shit.” You heard him growl, before you made eye contact with each other, for a very quick moment. In a slight panic, Giorno tried to compose himself, glancing at you again before carefully separating from you.

“Hello?” Came an unfamiliar male voice, from the other side of the door. “Don Giovanna, are you there?” You perked up when you heard him say your name, “...that woman, we’ve looked around her neighborhood and have had no luck finding her, Sir.”

“Oh, is that so…” He was cautious, trying his best to make sure you wouldn’t leave, but to his dismay, you saw an opportunity and took it.

When he had moved out of your direct line of vision, he had let the ever-growing noon sunlight reach you, specifically, your hands. With that in mind, you manifested B • H • S on the vines, causing them to become etiolated, therefore loose, and allowing you to slip them off without fuss.

During a clearly awkward, through-a-door conversation between your boss and a random lackey, you rolled off the chair and sorted out your jumbled clothing. To get it out of the way, you shattered the window across the room. You heard Giorno’s voice go higher when he heard this, but unlike the day before, you said nothing to him, no apologies or anything before rushing to freedom.

Adrenaline was gushing through your veins, so with 0 restraint, after swiping your coat from the floor, you dashed forward, broke what remained of the window and leapt outside.

But, to one’s surprise, you didn’t go home that day. Instead, you remained at that estate, because you had to get to the bottom of something.

You had questions. Specifically: Why? What? Who? How? Me? You? And those questions needed answers. So, instead of retreating, or, say, escaping, you scoured the building for a very specific room.

Because I’m gonna get those answers, no matter what.

Was this a likely horrible decision that you would probably end up regretting and cursing yourself for making? Yes.

Was this likely going to end badly? Yes.

Would this, almost definitely, give you the explanation you longed for? Also yes.

It’s going to be a long, long evening.

♡🐞♡

n: god, whenever i copy stuff over, i have to go through it and re-italicize everything. maybe there’s an easier way of doing this? btw, i finished a couple of my blog’s pages, so i’d say its no longer wip :D

PS: the last chapter is already 8638 words, and i’m not even done. god have mewcy on my souw.

#my works #n/s/f/w #yumee works #cw noncon #jjba #jojo #giorno giovanna #vento aureo #golden wind #tender pearl is still gonna be my band name and nobodys gonna stop me

10 notes · View notes

daebakinc · 4 years

Note

17 with Wooyoung from ATEEZ please!

College AU: “You’re dating my roommate and she already hates me anyway.

Sometimes even the nicest people can be pushed to doing the shittiest things. You haven’t hit that precipice. You’ve already jumped off it headfirst like reckless lemming.

Today is the day you’re going to do it. Screw your roommate. She’s hated you since the day you moved in. When you’d walked in the door, she’d already laid down a line of tape to split your room in half, threatening you if you ever crossed it. Of course, that didn’t apply to her. Her dirty laundry ended up all over the floor, her books all over your desk. What annoys you the most now though is her boyfriend, Wooyoung.

He’s loud, hyper, and always around. And he’s always, always sweet. He smiles and greets you with excitement whether you meet in the room or out on campus. He’ll ask you about your day and tease you like an old friend. Honestly, you’d be hard pressed to think of someone more friendly.

That makes how he ended up with your roommate even more of a mystery. As evil as you know she is, you can’t understand how Wooyoung can look at her with unparalleled ardent admiration.

What you can understand, on some level, is her cheating on him.

You’d caught her in bed with some soccer player, too naked and making too many noises to be doing anything else than having sex with him. When you’d come back later, she’d only glared at you before leaving with a slam of the door.

That was it. You put up with enough of her bullshit. All the little frustrations you’ve been holding in for the sake of peace explode so violently you feel nothing but coolness.

Fuck your roommate, fuck her crappy personality, fuck everything about her. You have far more loyalty towards Wooyoung than her. He deserves better.

Dropping your bag, you stalk out of your room on autopilot.

Yeosang, Wooyoung’s roommate, opens the door to their room. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is Woo here?” you ask, trying to peek around Yeosang’s shoulders.

“Nah, he’s down the dance studio.”

Of course he is. “Thanks.”

“Hey,” Yeosang calls after you. When you turn, he tentatively asks, are you okay? You seem... upset.”

“I’m mad, but Wooyoung’s going to be really upset.” A sliver of guilt pricks your chest at the thought of breaking the news to him. But it’s for the best. “You may want to get ready for it.”

It’s only a short walk to the dance studio. Thankfully, when you peek through the glass in the door, Wooyoung is just sitting on the floor, looking at his phone. You hesitate before opening the door. Your earlier anger is simmering down, leaving behind the beginnings of empathetic pain for your friend. Still, it’s better to get it over with quick, like ripping off a band-aid. Better he find out from you than someone else later on, because you know that witch isn’t going to stop.

Wooyoung drops his phone in surprise at your entrance. “What the-- Oh, it’s you. Hi!”

“Hi, Woo. You have a minute?” you ask.

He pats the hardwood beside him. You sink down to the floor crossing your legs, your fingers instantly starting to fiddle with your shoelaces to dispense the nervous energy making your heart flutter.

A sudden thought streaks through your mind. What if Wooyoung doesn’t believe you? What if he denies it, tells you you’re lying, that you’re jealous? What if he decides he can’t keep such a friendship? Could you survive that?

Wooyoung waves his hand in front of your face when you don’t speak. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

Looking at his smile, you know you have to tell him. Rather than break it to him gently, you speak directly as he told you he prefers. “Your girlfriend is cheating on you.”

He stills, his smile falling as he stares at you.

“I’m sorry, Woo.” You put a hand on his arm and squeeze. “I know you may not want to believe it, but--”

“I already know.”

“What?” Now it’s your turn to stare at him. All of a sudden, you notice the dark lurking beneath his eyes, the wet on his cheeks that you mistook for sweat, the slump in his shoulders.

Wooyoung sighs, picks up his phone, and passes it to you. “San sent me this yesterday,” he says quietly.

The photo on the screen is a bit fuzzy, the clarity clearly lost due to distance. But the features of the two people hiding in a corner of the library are obvious enough. There’s your roommate eating the face off the guy who was just in her bed.

“I thought maybe it was a mistake,” Wooyoung says, taking the phone from you. His eyes reflect the bright screen, but that can’t mask the abject hurt and confusion that threatens disintegrate his heart. “But I guess... you’re both right.”

“Woo, I’m really sorry. I really am.”

Torn between wishing you could take away all of your friend’s pain and that you could land just one good sucker punch on your roommate without repercussions, you settle for what you can do. You scoot closer and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He instantly reaches for you, burying his head in your shoulders. He doesn’t cry, but you can feel his body shaking where he clings to you.

Feeling your own heart break, you hug him tighter. Stroking his back, you whisper. “You deserve better, Wooyoung. You always have.”

“What if it’s not out there?” he asks, his voice muffled against your shirt.

“It is. I’ll help you find it. I promise.”

#wooyoung drabble #ateez drabbles #kpop drabbles #ateez drabble

9 notes · View notes

heyyyharry · 5 years

Text

My Girl Series: Chapter 6 - This Time

…in which Y/N needs a wedding date, and this time Harry’s not giving up.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 5: Somebody Else - Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, and no one else.

A little happy gift from sad Allie 😂 You’re welcome.

wattpad link

It had been two weeks since the last time Y/N saw Harry.

Like a ghost, he disappeared into thin air without a single clue only to reappear on a sunny Thursday afternoon via a simple text, saying he was waiting for her outside her flat and that it was an emergency. When she received that message, Y/N was in the library and had to drop everything at once to rush back home for him.

It was not until she had run up five floors and saw him standing outside her door with the brightest smile on his face, intact, that she realized she had been worried all for nothing.

"Hey, Bam—Ouch!" He jumped away, rubbing the sore spot on his arm where she'd just hit him, mouth agape. "What was that for?"

"'Come home quick. Emergency'? Emergency my ass! I was shit-scared when I read your text."

"This is an emergency." He bent down and picked up the paper bag at his feet. "I bought you ice cream and it's melting."

"Ice cream?" She dropped her jaw, hands on her hips. "I thought something bad had happened to you, H!"

"You thought I was in trouble and came home right away?"

Y/N rolled her eyes in response to that idiotically gorgeous smile of his, yet she decided not to answer that question.

"What's the occasion?" She asked, eyes fixed on the paper bag full of snacks he was carrying. She didn't understand why he looked so shocked as if she was supposed to know the answer already.

Wait, am I supposed to?

It took the girl a moment to remember the date, and when she had, she felt like the shittiest person alive.

It was her mother's birthday.

When they were little, Harry had always helped her prepare a small birthday party for her mother each year. They would make cupcakes and birthday cards together. Now that her mother was gone, he knew it was meaningless to come over with ice-cream for her and flowers for her mum since there was nothing left to celebrate. But he felt like he should, hoping his presence would count for something.

"I can't believe I forgot mum's birthday," she groaned into her palms, mentally cursing herself for being so thoughtless. But he knew it wasn't her fault, she didn't mean to forget. A lot of things had happened in her life recently, starting from her dad's engagement, to her struggles with her unfinished first novel, her unpaid rents, and then of course...him.

Harry was just about to say something when the girl lifted her face up, eyes squinted at him. "How did you..."

"Your dad told me you always visited her on her birthday..."

"My dad? Are you best friends with him now?"

"No, I just—"

"Don't." She raised a finger so he wouldn't continue, and he was waiting for her to tell him to leave. To his surprise, she didn't this time. She just took a long pause and asked him if he could give her a ride to the train station, so she could catch the next train back to Cheshire.

Y/N assumed a famous actor like Harry didn't have much free time to spare, and she really had to think twice before asking him for such a favor. After all, he had his own busy life, he wasn't her personal chauffeur.

The last thing she would expect to hear from him was, "I'll drive you back to Cheshire."

"What?" She raised an eyebrow at the man and he supposed she thought he was only kidding. He definitely wasn't. "It's a four-hour drive, H."

"Then we should leave now." He pressed his lips into a small smile, and her heart suddenly forgot how to beat.

She didn't know why he was doing all of that for her. She just asked for a small favor which he could have easily declined, still, he volunteered to drive nearly 200 miles so she could visit her mother's grave. She honestly didn't get it but she didn't want to ask him why.

"Thank you so much," she said. "I owe you this once."

"Wait, but..."

"But what?" Y/N had already climbed down a couple stairs when she stopped to look back at him.

"We should put the melting ice cream in the fridge." He nodded towards the door, making her smile.

It was actually the first smile he'd received from his Bambi after two weeks away from her and Harry couldn't put into words how glad he was to see it again. He knew they still had a lot of catching up to do. But he had a whole four hours in the car to worry about that. Right now, he let himself be happy.

The drive was long but neither of them was tired. Harry and Y/N blasted music in their car while driving away from the big city, singing songs they didn't know all the words to at the top of their lungs with the windows down and wind in their hair. Harry couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this free. He didn't have to worry about all the responsibilities waiting for him in London, nor think about how his manager would react when he found out Harry had rescheduled another interview for personal reasons. At that moment, in his car driving down the empty country road, it was just him and her and no one else.

When the music had become louder than their own voices, Harry stole a quick glance at the girl sitting by his side. She was too distracted by the beautiful sunset to continue singing or even catch his eyes on her.

"Watch out!"

Harry steered the wheel just in time to dodge the massive hole on the road. The car bounced ahead pretty hard, causing him to grip onto the wheels and her to scream out loud. Fortunately, both were safe as was the car but his heart was still beating out of control. When he turned to give her an apologetic grin, she smacked him right on the arm, telling him to be careful or else they would be dead before they even reached the graveyard. That threat really had the 24-year-old rooted to his seat. Maybe from now on, he should keep his eyes on the road instead of her.

When they arrived at Graceland Cemetery in Holmes Chapel, the sky was already pitch dark. Under the pale moonlight, the iron front gate looked exactly like one of those gateways to hell in the horror films she was obsessed with but he loathed deeply. He walked closer to her, one arm hugging the bouquet of lilies to his chest, the other gripping onto her arm as they passed many headstones laying all out of order on the muddy ground. It took them five minutes or so to get to where Y/N's mother was laid.

The girl kneeled down on the sew grass without minding the soil would ruin her beautiful white dress. She burnt three jasmine scented candles on the ground after laying the lilies down by her mother's grave.

"Happy birthday, mum," she mumbled, smiling at the grey stone with her mother's name on it. "I love and miss you very much, and I'm so sorry that I'm late today."

Watching her from the side made Harry feel like he was intruding the special mother-daughter moment and he intended to walk away. But all it took was one sound of his name from her lips and Harry's feet immediately grew roots into the ground.

"Harry is with me. He drove me all the way here from London so I could see you." With a faint smile, she turned to him. "Don't worry. He takes very good care of me."

The green-eyed man could hear his heartbeats echoing in his ear as all the hair on his arms stood to attention. He didn't know whether it was because of the cool April breezes blowing through his thin jacket, or the fact that they were in the middle of a graveyard, or the lovely hue in her sparkling eyes as they were gazing at him. What he did knew was in that very moment she might also feel the same, maybe a little if not entirely. And that was all it mattered.

"Since we're already here, do you wanna stop by to say hello to Anne?"

"My mum's on vacation actually. There's nobody home," Harry said as he made his way to Y/N, standing with his back against the car like she was as they both looked up at the magnificent view above their heads, a sky full of stars.

The sight was almost surreal, like the whole world had been covered in black velvet with little diamonds strung up as decorations. For too long Harry had been living in the big city where all the best views were hidden behind skyscrapers, and the busy lives on the ground didn't allow him to look up, not even once. Now in an open field with just them two and the sound of crickets chirping in fading moonlight, he could finally feel alive.

"You don't get to see this in London, right?" She said as both of them turned to look at each other at the same time.

"I think I've missed out on a lot of things since I left this town," he said, almost as a soft whisper for only them to hear. The stars were mirrored in her crystal clear eyes like little shiny specks of magic dust. The sight of it reminded him of the lake behind his high school on a summer night, when it looked like the water had captured the moon and all the stars. To him, Y/N was no different from that summer late. She carried the entire universe in those eyes.

"Harry," her voice, with the help of a cold breeze, soon dragged him back to reality. She was still looking at him and her expression was unreadable as she questioned, "have you ever considered talking Anne into selling that house?"

"No. She loves that place too much," he said. "Gemma and I don't wanna sell it either."

There was a pause.

"Thank you," she finally said, giving him another smile and looking up again.

Harry knew she meant to ask about their treehouse. She wanted to know if he'd ever thought about selling away one of the few things that were proof of what they used to have. Then she thanked him because he hadn't. Somewhere deep inside he felt joy because now he knew she still looked back to those days to the kids they once were. Maybe the part of him inside of her had never really faded away.

"Do you wanna stop by our treehouse?" He asked all of a sudden and he could tell from her reaction that she was taken aback.

"No, thanks." Y/N shook her head. "I might run into those two."

"Your dad and Marcy."

She confirmed with a sigh, puckering up her lips.

"I got their wedding invitation last week," he said, smiling at her but she was far from happy to hear that.

"I did too, but it's now in the bin." She shrugged, eyes on the stars whereas he was still staring at her. "I'm not going to their wedding."

"Why?"

"Because that would make me feel like I'm betraying my mother."

"But that's your dad. He really wants you to show up."

"So? He's a shit dad anyway."

Harry knew it wasn't his business when he received that stubborn eye-roll from her. He understood that she had every single right to hate that man for all he had done to her and her mother. But Harry cared about Y/N too much to let her keep tormenting herself and her father this way.

"Look, kid, I know he's shit at being a dad but...at least...he's still trying to be one."

That sentence made Y/N turn her head to face him once again. It had been too long, yet she could still remember the photo he had kept in his bedroom. The only photo of the man she had never seen before.

When nine-year-old Y/N asked him who it was, thirteen-year-old Harry hesitated for a little while before telling her it was his father. Before then she had assumed that every dad had to either live with their children, or come visit them once in a while like Celine’s dad. But from Harry's story, she learned that not every father wanted to be close to their kids and watch them grow. Harry's father had left his family since Harry was still too young to remember. Just like Y/N, he had never met the man. His mother had thrown away everything that belonged to his father, except for that one photo the little boy found in the attic and decided to keep as a secret. He had never shown it to anyone but the little girl next door.

Eyes still on her, Harry took a deep breath and squeezed the hand she put on her knee. "You don't have to forgive everything he's done but please don't cut him off for good. At least show up at his wedding."

"I can't do it alone." She shook her head fast and lowered it so she could stare at her feet instead of him. "I couldn't even have dinner with them alone..."

"Then I'll go with you. Sounds good?" He titled his head to read her face, squeezing the girl's hand a little bit tighter to remind her that he was there for her.

And after a moment of thinking, she finally answered, "I'll think about it and...let you know."

It was nearly 8PM when Harry and Y/N got back into their car to head back to London. The drive home was rather silent since both of them had been exhausted and it was getting late. They put on some slow songs and drove through the night with eyes kept away from each other. The scent of candle wax mixed with fresh soil still remained on her clothes. It smelt rather delicate, reminding him of a garden full of jasmines, and he loved it just as much as he knew she did.

"Where have you been?" She finally asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them both.

"Where have I been?"

"In the last two weeks. What? You have a tendency of ghosting on the people in your life once in a while?"

The people in his life, he knew she meant her and Isaac. He couldn't straight off tell her that he'd only been avoiding them while keeping contact with everyone else in his life. She wouldn't understand and hate him as much as she had before.

So he told her he'd been busy getting ready for a new role for a movie which started shooting in the summer. It was also the truth, well, half of it. He'd left out the part about him trying to figure out what he wanted and what he was willing to give up in order to be happy. By the end, he'd realized that he missed her too much to be able to stay away from her life and still feel joy at the same time. He'd done it before, living six years without knowing where or how she was. But now that she had come back, he must admit that it was a struggle trying not to think about her every second of the day.

"Don't worry. I won't disappear like that again," he said.

She didn't reply and he didn't hope that she would believe him. He could always show her that he was sincere.

Harry parked his car outside her building and they both got out at the same time. He was slightly disappointed because he wanted to open the car door for her like they did in those romantic films. But then again he remembered, his Bambi was never one of those cliché leading girls.

Before he could open his mouth to say goodnight and goodbye, Y/N pulled him into a sudden hug and thanked him for everything he'd done for her that day.

"Do you want to come in?" She asked, to his surprise. "There's ice cream in the fridge."

Her offer made him smile.

"I would love to," he said and for sure meant it. "But I can't. I've got dinner with Niall."

"Dinner at midnight?"

"That restaurant opens until 3AM." He shrugged, checking his watch. "But...I'm kind of an hour late now."

"Oh, okay. See you another time then?"

"Sure." He stroked her tangled hair and pressed his lips to her forehead as he wished her goodnight. When they parted, he felt strangely incomplete even though she wasn't even out of sight. Harry now began to think he had turned into one of those clingy high school boys who couldn't stop missing his secret crush, and the fact that he had just implied that she was his secret crush was already too embarrassing. He had no control of whatever going on inside his brain anymore, and he felt like it should be a bad thing.

"What are you doing next Friday night?" He shouted out the question, making the girl turn around just as she reached the glass doors.

"Uh...Probably studying for my finals. Why?"

"You stay at home and study on your birthday?" The amusement in that question of his had her eyes widened and her jaw fell open. That was when the man realized she had not only forgotten her mother's birthday, but also her own.

"Right." She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "Now that I remember. I do have plans on that night."

"Oh...With Isaac?"

"Yeah." She nodded.

Even though he had already seen it coming and received that apologetic look from her, Harry still felt like crap. He told her it was no big deal as he got back into his car and started the engine. They waved at each other one last time before he departed. This time, the girl stayed exactly where she was, watching his car until it blended into the moving traffic on the busy avenue.

"Sorry, I'm late!"

"Aren't you always?"

Niall blew up his cheeks as he closed the menu in his hand, dark blue eyes narrowed at Harry, who was still trying to catch his breath as he told the waiter to get him whatever his friend had already ordered.

"And two glasses of Cheval Blanc 2010," he quickly added, with a smile.

"We only sell that by the bottle, sir."

"Bring me a bottle then."

"Wait." Niall held up a hand just as the waiter turned away. "He'll have a glass of water."

"A glass of water?" The actor snorted.

Niall Horan was the least serious person he'd ever known but this time the guy wasn't joking. The singer nodded his head, telling the waiter to leave them and intertwined his fingers on the table, intense eyes staring his best friend down.

"You can't show up here drunk and order a whole bottle of wine, Harold."

"I'm not drunk."

"Then why's your face red and why do you keep smiling like an idiot?"

That one simple question got Harry tongue-tied. He thought he might know the answer. But he couldn't even say it to himself let alone to his best friend who couldn't even keep a secret for longer than a day. Of course, he loved Niall with all his heart and would do anything for that man had he asked just once. But there was a good reason he would always confide in Isaac and had to think twice before confessing something to his other best friend.

"Are you sure you're sober, Harold?" Niall asked, probably still suspecting Harry was lying to him

"I am. Absolutely!"

"Good. I don't wanna see you as that drunk mess when the witch left again."

Niall paused as soon as he realized what he had just said, slowly lifting his eyes to check his best friend's reaction. Despite not mentioning any name, he knew Harry could already tell whom he was referring to. Of course, Niall didn't mean to bring her up at a happy dinner like this, it just slipped out by accident. Now he felt so bad about it.

Harry hadn't thought about Ruby for weeks now. He'd blocked her number and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd checked social media to see what she had been up to. Ever since the BAFTAs, the name Ruby Ellis had completely vanished from his mind. But Niall accidentally bringing her up tonight was almost like opening up an old wound.

Harry didn't know how to describe his relationship with Ruby, if it was ever a relationship. But his feelings for her had been real. His pain, his jealousy, his tears, his nightmares, all of them had been real. He couldn't even describe the post-goodbye since it had been the worst six months of his entire life. He would wake up in the middle of the night screaming her name and reaching out to search for her figure only to hold onto air on the empty side of his bed. What he and Ruby had together was heaven and hell at the same time. So when he'd escaped from the maze that was her heart, and finally looked back from an outsider's point of view, he realized how wrong she had been for him, how much she had damaged him, physically and emotionally.

But he had loved her. He really had loved her. So much to the point even now if he was walking down the street, he would turn his head the second he smelt her favorite perfume on a stranger. However, some people were only meant to stay in your memory and not in your heart or your arms, and Harry had to learn it the hardest way in order to let her go.

"Don't worry. I'm not going back there again," he said, giving his best friend a reassuring smile.

"I believe in you." Niall reached out to hold his wrist. "She taught you to smoke and you quitted. Now you could quit her."

That sounded so sad, yet so true.

His ex-lover was nothing more than a bad habit.

The mood at the two gentlemen's table was lifted once again when the waiter from earlier returned with their food and two crystal glasses of mineral water. Niall had quite a passion for food as he did for music, so the look on his face when he saw the steaming dishes laid down in front of his eyes made Harry dissolve into laughter.

"I'm gonna take a photo for Isey," said the singer as he unlocked out his phone and rose from his chair to find a good angle for the shot.

"Why isn't he here though?" Harry asked. "Is he busy?"

"What are you talking about? He's in Rome right now. Didn't he tell you?"

"He's on vacation?"

"More like workation." Niall sat back down, rolling his eyes and put his phone away to grab the napkin. "You should try the fish, Harry. It's marvelous."

"Niall, what do you mean?" Harry honestly couldn't concentrate on eating at the moment to even think about how marvelous the fish was. "He's working in Italy? For how long?"

"At least six months or more. I don't know."

"Six months? But Y/N's birthday is next week."

"Who's Y/N?"

Harry sighed in frustration as he corrected himself, "Bambi."

"Oh, right! The Bambi/Smiley girl." Niall chuckled, shaking his head. "Isey asked her to be his girlfriend last week, but at that point, he still hadn't received the offer to shoot for Vogue Italy. Somehow Smiley...I mean Bambi found out about it so she turned him down. Isey was really sad so he flew off to Rome without telling anyone, and I just found out last night when I asked him to come with us. I assumed you'd already known because he always told you everything."

As Niall went on with his speculations about how Y/N had discovered the Vogue thing, Harry could only try to make sense why she'd lied to him that she had birthday plans with Isaac, knowing the guy was in Rome. Maybe she didn't want Harry to feel pity for her, maybe she just wanted to be alone, or maybe she thought he had done too much for her and didn't want him to show up at her door with a teddy bear and pink balloons with her initial on them. Anyway, her two best friends were in Boston and she obviously wouldn't come home for dinner with her dad and his new woman. So he couldn't let her celebrate her 20th birthday with a stack of books and way too much caffeine. Harry had missed many of her birthdays already and that was entirely his fault. But this time he had to do things differently.

"Niall." He calmly looked at his friend who had already finished half of the fish. "Do you happen to know any stargazing spot in London?"

#harry styles #my girl series #actor!harry #older!harry #bestfriend!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut

733 notes · View notes