#I’ve wrote about this little AU and maybe I’ll add more to it later | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writing-with-gremworm · 1 year ago

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Train Wreck Pup, Adopted

Here's a little thing I wrote based on a TikTok I saw a while back. Crewel was the first character I thought of, so I decided to make a very indulgent fanfic chapter based on the concept. It's a modern AU and Ren, the Insert/reader, meets him on a train. This is probably the longest piece of singular writing I'll post for a long time, but oh well.

Notes:

Crewel is a platonic/filial Soft!Yandere

Epel, Vil, and Neige show up in the latter half.

Non-Canon characters feature prominently.

This follows Indulgent FanFic tropes

Non-Canon Yanderes are included

This Universe has a fairly high density of Yanderes even if they don't showcase such features in the segment of the story.

Inclusion of a character sibling

TW: Yandere (In the latter half), Swearing, Mild Violence

“An E-Mail? Was I denied entry into the event? … Woah, Woah! I got in!! I still need a few more designs, but I can start actually putting some of these looks together in the frenzy! This is so cool.” I hop up from my chair and twirl around a few times, stopping and excitedly shaking my hands. “Yay! Oh, shoot- I need to leave tonight- Thank you organizers for the free ticket. But aaaahhh rushed prep time!” I add after glancing back at the E-mail.

Before long I’m out the door with a suitcase in one hand and my sketchbook in the other ready to board the train. While waiting for the train I open my phone and glance at the rules for the Flash Forward Frenzy fashion event

“Oh right, I should message Vera later. I can do that on the train. Rules first.” I mumble.

The event surrounded using old materials to create new looks. Clothes that were maybe used once and thrown away were collected to be used and made into outfits we could wear. The event itself was a massive hit, it was always fun to watch people create incredible things out of the most unexpected materials. But it was an even more exciting time this year since the esteemed Divus Crewel, Vil Shoenheit, and Neige LeBlanche were going to be there as guest stars designing alongside smaller names like myself.

I am well aware of the fact that I’m unlikely to run into big-name figures like Divus or Vil, but I’m excited to see their works regardless. Vil is also a prominent actor, so I’m certain that his presentation of works will have an air of drama and intrigue. My designs aren’t going to be as glamorous, but they will be different and interesting. I’m confident that they’ll fill in someone else’s niche desires if nothing else. Luckily the rules don’t say anything again the use of magic to process fabrics. Given this, I can use my ability to create a base from the drawings I’ve already made and the necessary fabrics and thread, which are provided for the event. I can only do this once or twice per day for extremely complex ideas due to the amount of magic it takes. I don’t want to risk an over-blot from excess magic use on stage, so I’ll save magic for my most intricate piece.

My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of the train. The ride is twelve hours with various stops between here and the Glamour Isle. Needless to say, I have plenty of time to work on more concepts while I’m on the train. After about two hours someone sits next to me, but I don’t look at them since I’m busy and that could be rude. At some point in time, I hear a familiar disapproving sigh from their general direction. I ignore it at first to finish my sketches and notes for a piece from my fantasy set.

“Why does it sound so familiar though?” I mumble to myself before glancing over to where I heard the sigh. It feels like my face should contort in surprise when I realize who it is, but surprisingly I just stare blankly for a moment before shaking my head.

“Ah sorry for staring.” I quickly mumble as Divus Crewel of all people looks back at me and smiles with a tinge of concern, “You must be on your way to Glamour Isle too then?” I mumble awkwardly. I already knew that he was going in that direction, but I didn’t know what else to say since I had already begun to engage in a, perhaps one-sided, conversation.

“You don’t plan on wearing something like that in Glamour Isle do you?” Divus asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, I mean I think this is fine? My work is going to be center stage with everyone else’s, I don’t really need to stand out, just my work does.”

“My my, and you have such an interesting design palette too. A pup like you would do well with proper grooming. No show dog looks scruffy on stage my dear, and neither should you.” Did he compare me to a show dog? Wait, he’s actually talking to me? I mean he’s belittling my pathetic messy dad aesthetic, but like, he’s talking to me?

“Ah- well. Yes. You’re correct, but in the case of show dogs, the stage is set for them to display their obedience, finesse, and beauty. I don’t see how this correlates to me specifically when a fashion show is about fashion and its resonance with the models and crowd. But I appreciate the compliment. I’m quite proud of my capabilities and I’m excited to share them.” I start a little nervous before settling into a matter-of-fact tone.

“Little pup, fashion is about far more than just aesthetics. Appearance has a larger impact than you may realize. As an aspiring designer, it’s important to note the politics as well.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Thank you for the advice. I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.” I say with a small smile. I look back at my work and sketch for a bit longer before giving my hands a break and doing quick hand exercises. I can’t help but glance over at Divus a couple of times after that just to see if he’s still judging my fashion or whatever caught his attention before. This was starting to feel like a dream. For one, no one was approaching Divus Crewel which is unusual, but he was sitting next to me to attend the same event which meant he might take a closer look at my work. Around the four-hour mark, Divus spoke to me again.

“It’s good to be serious about your work, but you still have a couple of days until the event takes full swing. For now, you should rest or you’ll be exhausted when you reach the Isle. Pups that exhaust themselves needlessly miss playing with their owners.” He chimes leaning back leisurely but still exuding elegance and an air of authority.

“I’ll be fine. But thank you for your concern.” I say after a small pause allowing me to process what just happened.

“There aren’t going to be many passengers in this train car. That can quell your concerns about taking up space or being a bother if that is what holds you back.” Divus states confidently.

“Ah, well that is one thing. But I’ve always had difficulties sleeping in moving vehicles. I can close my eyes and drift a bit, but any unusual movement or stop will jolt me awake. I’m not sure how much that little bit of rest would help haha.” I explain after a few moments of silence. I didn’t want to lie to him or come up with something that he could feasibly change for me that I just didn’t realize. I already felt like I was accruing debt by talking to him quite frankly.

“Have you ever ridden this train before? I think you’ll find that you can hardly tell when it has stopped.” I think back to earlier when the train stopped and Divus walked onto the train. He was right, it had not been super noticeable. In fact, it was so difficult to tell that I almost didn’t realize anyone got on until he sat next to me.

“Huh, I guess you’re right. I didn’t really notice when the train stopped to let you on. I mean, of course, the sound stopped, but there was enough other white noise from the lights and other cars that it didn’t register.” Though of course now I was far more worried about bothering the Divus Crewel rather than actually being tired. Naturally, I didn’t want to say that out loud though, it might be irritating. He must have noticed somehow though because his next words were:

“Don’t concern yourself with bothering me. I was the one who suggested you rest. You should simply follow my instructions like an obedient pup. I’ll even set an alarm for you if you’re a good boy.” What followed was an amused chuckle as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. I open my mouth to speak but instead let out a sigh and mumble a small thank you and smile before placing my sketchbook on my lap and leaning back in my seat. Divus stifles another laugh but the tapping indicates he really did set a timer for me. It’s strange to be so pampered by a celebrity. Though honestly, I doubt we’ll chat much after this, I didn’t even give him my name.

– Somehow I manage to fall asleep. I even begin to dream. Once in a while, I have vivid dreams that I recall after waking up. This already felt like one of them because I knew I was dreaming. “Oh good boy, you’re here on time. I wanted to introduce you to one of my students. I’m sure you’re well aware of who he is so there is no need for me to elaborate.” Divus states with a flourish of his hand gesturing to the Vil Shoenheit. “Ah, Vil Shoenheit, of course, why wouldn’t it be? It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Ren.” I mumble tiredly with a little wave. Vil crosses his arms and places a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “I see, I can salvage this, no, I will polish it into a diamond.” Vil nods lightly with an expression revealing he is already planning my demise. I mean my prettification. “Salvage? Polish? Wait- Divus- Sorry Crewel, did you want me to meet him to fix my wardrobe?” “You catch on quite quickly. But there’s a bit more to it than that. You’ll be working together on a project I have in mind. I expect only the best from you pups.” “Wait what?” Vil and I ask at the same time. Then the dream just ends. –

I wake up to the sound of quiet chatter and the alarm.

“Good evening,” I mumble groggily before sitting up. It takes me a moment to realize that sitting up means I either fell over or leaned over in my sleep, “Ah I’m sorry, I usually don’t move much in my sleep so I didn’t expect to fall over or anything.” I mumble apologetically.

“Perhaps you should have laid down from the beginning. You’d be less likely to hit your head that way. But you did sleep, so good boy. We’ll be arriving at the next stop in about half an hour.” Crewel informs me.

“Haha, yeah maybe. Ah, thank you.” I mumble before noticing my sketchbook isn’t in my hands, “Wait where did it go?” I mumble looking around before noticing that Crewel was holding it. I feel my face flush out of embarrassment. I doubt he looked through it, but I can’t help but feel a little bit flustered that he could have.

“I did look through a couple of designs,” Oh no, “They’re quite intriguing. I expect only the best from you during the event.” Oh no he looked through them. But he liked them so that’s good. But also why did he look through them? “I don’t think I caught your name earlier.” He adds with an expectant smile.

“Oh um- I’m Ren. I’m already familiar with you and your designs, it would be more surprising if I wasn’t. I’m glad you have such high expectations for me, it’s quite the compliment. Though I’m not sure I’ll match them. Thank you Crewel.” I say quickly, stumbling over my words a few times and rubbing the back of my neck.

“So that’s how you gathered I would be going to Glamour Isle as well. I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask for my autograph or bombard me with questions considering you ended up in my train car.”

“Wait- your train car?” I mumble before thinking things over, “Oh, OH, that’s why you said no one else would be here, no one else was supposed to be here. I can’t believe I just barged in I’m so sorry, you could have asked me to leave. I didn’t mean to invade your personal space.”

“Calm down little pup. Had I wanted you to leave I would have instructed you to do so. If you weren’t obedient I would have gotten them to take the rabid pup away.” Crewel states a bit amused, gesturing to the other figures in the train car.

“Ah right, they must have been your people then, or otherwise people with the association running the event to ensure your comfort. But I was here for two hours before you. Why didn’t they just ask me to leave then?”

“You’re not exactly intimidating, you’re also a child are you not?”

“Um … I’m not a child, actually I’m 20.”

“You are? Then you’re a bit older than most of my other pups, though your height wouldn’t give that away. You may be even shorter than Riddle. No matter, you weren’t a threat, and it’s clear you’re more interested in work than causing trouble.”

“Still though …” I start before thinking it over. Had they wanted me to leave this car they’d have taken me out. So I guess I had accidentally gotten permission to be here. Additionally, this chance encounter was going to be one of the most memorable meetings, so I’m not really upset about being here.

“Well since you were fine with it, thank you for letting me stay. It’s a lot quieter than the other cars would have been I’m sure.” I mumble with a small smile before opening my phone to review the E-Mail again. The organizers had established a room I would be staying in as well, which was awesome and unlike any other event I had attended.

“Do you know where the Glamrock Hotel is?” Crewel asks before I can look it up.

“Ah, no I’ve never been to Glamour Isle for an event before, so I don’t know where anything is actually,” I admit rubbing my neck again.

“Well as a teacher I suppose I should guide you,” Crewel states a bit amused with the strange logic he’d presented me.

“Uh- well I guess technically that would be accurate. You’re being quite generous. Hm, you said earlier to think about politics, what exactly do you gain from helping me? Not that there has to be an ulterior motive, but I am curious.”

“You catch on quite quickly little pup. Though I’m not asking for anything but your time at this moment. Additionally, If you meet my expectations like a well-trained pup, I’ll be in touch after the event.” Crewel says with an amused grin. I wasn’t sure why he was so amused, but I was certainly pumped to make the most beautiful set of outfits I could muster. The last half an hour felt like it flew by. Somehow I was making small talk with Divus Crewel in what I now knew was technically his private train car with trained mages around us. It was fantastical in nature and my heart was beating like crazy.

After we arrived on the Isle, Crewel accompanied me to the hotel because we were going to stay at the same hotel. It was strange but so cool. Admittedly if he was anyone else I would be wondering if he was trying to groom me, the negative kind, not taking care of myself grooming. But Crewel is well known to be skilled and generous, and his gestures were by no means romantic or sexual in nature, if anything it was like he was going to adopt a new puppy. Also, he had set up a number of events and attended even more as a guest and he did not tolerate nonsense. Had I bothered him, it’s possible I wouldn’t be in Glamour Isle, I’d be home.

Either way, when I made it to my room I smooshed my face into a pillow and let out sounds of pure excitement before pacing around my room and flapping my hands in excitement.

“Aaaahhh, I can’t believe the Divus Crewel spoke to me. This is awesome, I’m so nervous but excited for how this event is going to turn out oh my god.”

Since I slept on the train I wasn’t very tired so I decided to work on my designs a bit more and do some extra research before going to bed. When I did sleep I ended up having the same dream as before. I woke up early and reviewed the E-Mail again to make sure that I was keeping the dates organized in my head.

After taking a shower and changing into something slightly less dad-core, but still technically awful, I hear a knock on my door. I blink a few times before checking the peephole.

“!” I silently scream seeing the Divus Crewel on the other side. I quickly open the door before he knocks again and he grimaces upon seeing me.

“I couldn’t erase your disaster of a wardrobe from my mind, We’re going to fix … this. At least temporarily.” Crewel motions to all of me.

“Oh thanks, I’m so glad you remembered me for dressing like an unfashionable dad. But this is about the best I have in my suitcase. Wait, is this what you meant by asking for my time?” I admitted frowning a bit and looking over my outfit. It really wasn’t that bad, even normal one might say. Despite the dad-core vibes, it was definitely wearable.

“How astute an observation. Grab some of the clothes you aren’t attached to and come along little pup, this is going to be a very busy day.”

He was right of course. As soon as I followed him out of my hotel room I could tell he would be. He listed the plans for the day in order. It was kind of nice to be doted on in a weird sort of way. Though I was confused as to why I had Crewel’s attention at this point. There was no way he would actually keep in contact and introduce me to Vil Shoenheit after the event. It was just a weirdly realistic dream after all. Things are just weirdly lining up like that might be at all possible when I’m sure it is just Crewel being kind. Yes, just kindness.

Following that, our busy day started by heading to breakfast followed by a trip to the hair salon. After my hair was tidied up, though still the same hairstyle, we went to a number of different stores. All of them were sustainable and gave store credit for every item you traded in. Once he’s established the style I was comfortable with we found a few different outfits that looked good scattered throughout various stores. Each of the pieces could be rearranged, but they were notable on their own. Each pairing made a different feeling and it was very clear that some enhanced aesthetic while others undermined it. Some of the dark academia and cottage core pieces did not work well together.

After finding outfits and trading away my old clothes he took me to find accessories. I insisted that I should pay for everything, but he refused and simply stated that I can bring my ideas into reality well to pay him back. I can’t tell if that feels more like a compliment or a threat, but it’s certainly flattering. Somehow we fit all of that in before lunch and there was still more to do. By the end of everything I was exhausted, though extremely grateful.

“I’ll make the best version of my designs possible. That’s what you’re asking for in return right?” I ask on the trip back to the hotel.

“Good boy, you listen well. I’ll see what you can do in two days when it begins.” Crewel responds with a nod and a slight smile. – It's time for the event. We have two days to complete four outfits as a complete set using the magic tools and our own abilities to complete them as quickly but skillfully as possible. It's a challenge that many enjoy watching and admire. I’m a little nervous to be on TV, but I think that if I focus solely on my craft I can make it. Especially since I can essentially focus on one and use magic to create another since it's two separate days and I only need four outfits.

Now that I reviewed the game plan it feels less intimidating. The curtain opens to reveal the piles of clothes and materials we have access to before letting up find what we need. A few of the others sort through the pile with magic to locate exactly what they need. I sort through them by hand and feel the fabric textures before taking them back to my station where my assigned tools sit.

At the six-hour mark, we’re given an hour-long lunch and bathroom break. I definitely needed the food since I skipped breakfast. After the break, we get immediately back into work for the remaining six hours of that day. I finish the first piece two hours into the second half and use magic to form most of the second one before detailing it during the four remaining hours. By the time the timer goes off, I have two of the four outfits complete even. Additionally, I still have more fabric that can be used for parts of the first outfit for the next day set up at my station.

The next day I arrive early and notice that something is wrong with the more complicated outfit. Someone had cut it up. It was like a nightmare. It completely ruined my plan to make the clothes as efficiently as possible. Frustrated and upset I wanted to cry, but instead, I decided to improvise and alter the design slightly to include the visualization of the cuts rather than attempt careful and seamless mending. It takes two hours and I lose another hour finding more fabrics. So I decided to reorganize my magic use and create two bases with as much detail as I can manage before reaching my magic limit.

But the half point of the second day I’m exhausted but I manage to gain enough energy to finish and add the final details to the four outfits before the timer runs out. I stumble a bit feeling a bit nauseous now that the magic use and intense focus for twenty-four hours total were exhausting. After the timer goes off I sit down and wait for almost everyone else to leave before one of the people associated with the event walks over to me. I ask them to make sure that no one tampers with my outfits again overnight since someone had cut up mine and perhaps other people’s outfits the night before. They agree to tighten security and make sure that it was impossible for it to happen again. A bit uncertain of how successful they would be I start thinking of ways to justify asking to fix my outfits quickly before the show if I had to.

Using my magic to its fullest two days in a row was really pushing it. If I did so again I might end up sick. I don’t think that over-blots are supposed to make you sick. But it is convenient that I don’t go into a destructive frenzy overtaken by magic when I over-blot at least. I just almost die instead. Which I guess may be technically worse for me, but it is less awful for everyone else.

“Are you alright? I saw how tired you were earlier. I can get someone to help you back to your room, or you could stay in mine since it is on the first floor.” A familiar soft and slightly high-pitched voice asks. Looking at him I see it’s Neige LeBlanche.

“Ah I’m fine, thank you for your concern.” Why were all these celebrities so nice to me? I mean it has only been two so far, but that’s still a lot for me.

“Can I at least escort you to your room? You look a bit unsteady and I don’t want you to fall.” Neige voices his concern with a worried smile.

“There’s no need to go that far. I’m only on the second floor, so I’ll manage.” I say, though admittedly I was less confident about actually getting to the hotel than walking up a set of stairs.

“Then I’ll at least help you get to the hotel.” Neige insists.

“While that’s kind of you Neige, you don’t need to be concerned with them. I was already going to escort this pup back.” Crewel steps in unexpectedly. There’s no way that Crewel just told Neige LeBlanche that we were going to head back to the hotel together. It feels like a dad trying to keep a romantic interest away from his child. Which is funny because if anything he’s like a little brother. Well younger brother, he’s definitely a little taller than me.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Divus.” Neige comments a little surprised.

“Crewel.” Crewel corrects.

“Crewel. But were you really planning on walking back with him?” Neige asks with doubt lingering over his words.

“Yes, we agreed to meet after the event since we had a chance encounter before this,” I explain, technically not lying, though assuming that since he came to find me he was impressed with my work.

“Oh, if that’s the case then we should meet again at some point too. I really admire your ability to work through challenges. Here, one moment.” Neige takes out his business card and hands it to me, “I hope you rest well tonight. You were Ren, right? I heard your conversation with the security personnel before.” That definitely sounded like an excuse, though I guess it’s possible for Neige to admire me. Just unlikely.

“Ah- yes my name is Ren. Well-”

“Well thank you Neige, but we should probably head back since the reveals and show are tomorrow. We wouldn’t want to be too tired now would we?”

“Ah yes of course. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you Ren, call the number on that card when you get the chance, I’ll see you around!” Neige leaves with his manager and a few guards.

“That was unexpected,” I mumble with a light sigh before remembering who was standing next to me.

“It was. Though I suppose he was right, you don’t look well. Perhaps I should carry you back.” Crewel muses.

“What? No there’s no need to carry me, I’ll be fi-” I begin before nearly falling over after another wave of exhaustion hits me. Crewel catches me.

“You’re small enough it won’t be an issue little pup. Besides which you look like you’re about to fall asleep. It would be unwise to travel on your own feet in that state. Tsk tsk, you really need to learn to take care of yourself.” He states picking me up bridal style.

“I- Thank you.” I conceded. I could tell he was right, I was exhausted. Even still I wanted to protest about how I didn’t want to owe him more, or how I didn’t think it was necessary. Despite those thoughts, my eyes were having trouble even staying open so I just closed them. – Before I knew it I was awake in my hotel bed, slightly disheveled and wearing my clothes from the night before.

“Oh. My. God. Did I fall asleep on Crewel again? Well I mean it wasn’t confirmed the first time but aaaahhh.” I immediately panic and place my hands over my face before realizing I need to get ready and look presentable for the showcase. “Ah, I don’t have time to panic,” I mumble before showering, dressing up, and eating an apple that was left on my bedside table with a small note not to skip breakfast in Crewel’s handwriting.

“Geeze, he really is like a dad at this point. It’s not like he adopted me as a pu- child though. It’s weirdly nice how comfortable he is to be around though.” I mumbled looking at the note with a bit of warmth filling my chest. It was nice to feel cared about.

With one big breath, I turn towards the door and head out. Though I had a weird feeling that something went wrong so I hurried to the venue where our outfits should be. I ask if I can check over my outfits quickly because they had been sabotaged before. Luckily I was let in since my outfits were all damaged in some way. It was devastating, and there wasn’t any fabric to fix them. Except for what I was wearing.

“I could use my coat and undershirt and still look mostly presentable while fixing them,” I mumble quietly, my voice shaking more than I wanted it to. Despite still feeling drained, I used my magic again, allowing it to flow through my fingertips to mend the fabric to the shape I desired it to with the fabric I was using in hand. It was a different colour, but the colour matched well enough that it looked intentional. Reaching the fourth outfit I could feel the strength in my legs waning, but I had to fix it.

Even if Crewel was already impressed, I wanted to fix this. To not let the stranger tampering with my work win. I needed to make them feel their efforts were wasted, that after everything I was fine. As my hands glided over the last portion that needed to be fixed a few people started coming in to check their outfits as well. Only mine had been tampered with. I felt my hands shaking as they let go of the now-mended fabric.

“Tsk tsk. What did I say regarding work and rest? Bad boy. You should ask for help if you’re in trouble.” Crewel scolds me before complimenting my handi-work, “It is well done, it looks intentional even. However, I can not condone overworking yourself because of the security’s lack of competence.”

“Haha, I remember. But I didn’t want to let whoever did this feel as if they’d won. I can’t let them feel like they’ve won. I don’t even know why they could be so upset with me.” Unless it is one of my old friends. They seemed to think the worst of me. But they wouldn’t do anything this devastating, would they? Well, Rachel might, but shockingly I didn’t see her here. I would have noticed someone I actively avoid.

“Hm, well your determination is a valuable asset. I suppose it’s a good thing I’m also a potions master. This will sustain you for the duration of the showcase, however, you must rest for the next couple of days.” Crewel states handing me a potion he had on hand, “Sigh. I can’t believe you used some of your only decent clothes because of this. I’ll have to start from square one training this pup. Don’t make this a habit.”

“Wait training?” I ask after downing the potion in one gulp.

“Yes, I’ll be taking you under my wing little pup. As you may have surmised you have impressed me. Though this still needs fixing.” Crewel again motioned to all of me. Suddenly I was reminded of my dream from the past few nights.

“Hey, this may sound weird. But by any chance is Vil Shoenheit also one of your pupils who happens to be the one who may or may not be responsible for fixing my self-care habits and everyday wear?” I ask before the potion fully kicks in.

“Oh? So the little pup is already aware. He must have spoiled the surprise, I’ll have to punish him later.”

“Ah, no, I’ve just had this weird recurring dream about meeting Vil Shoenheit under your tutelage. I wasn’t going to ask initially, I guess being tired made me voice my thoughts. But I haven’t actually met Vil yet.” I explain quickly. Crewel furrows his brows for a moment before an expression of realization covers the confusion.

“Ah, so you’re good at pattern recognition. It’s not uncommon knowledge that Vil is one of my pupils, and you took note of the fact I was treating you well. You’ll be an excellent student. If you pick up on things this quickly anyways. I expect only good things from you.” Crewel states with an almost proud smile before motioning me to come with him to his waiting room where a screen displaying the showcase was attached to the wall.

He discusses specifics with me while we wait for the showcase to reach the point where we all enter the stage and talk about our work and inspirations. Excluding Vil, Neige, and Crewel, the rest of us attending the event are lined up in order to head out second. The three notable guests head out to speak first.

“Sustainability in fashion is one of the greatest difficulties of this industry. But with the systems set up here in Glamour Isle, fashion waste is dwindling away and instead becoming fashion fuel. Isn’t that just incredible? Imagine all of the incredible things you can curate with such an array of fabrics, Imagine how much you can do exchanging materials and creating your personalized unique looks!” Neige starts, excitedly chattering about the benefits of sustainable fashion. Crewel and Vil both elaborate on this to varying degrees before everyone else is brought out and stood next to the models wearing their outfits.

I don’t notice the concerned look that Neige gives me. But I notice the fury of a familiar contestant near me. It was Dev-Ay. One of my ex-friends that happens to despise me. It shouldn’t be surprising that they’re here, they’ve always been skilled. But it does sting to think that they might have been so certain I was worth tormenting that they cut up my outfits. It also tells me that I probably didn’t notice people as much as I thought I would.

“I agree that sustainability and curating styles in this way are essential to bettering our society. It’s one of the reasons I was so excited to be a part of this project. Despite the unlikely mishaps, I had a blast creating designs influenced by the types of sustainable fabrics already being developed. It’s fascinating how through the use of orange peels or kelp beautiful sustainable fabrics can be created. My theme was Future Fantasy. Playing off of the alliteration of the event title, I wanted to curate looks that inspired the fantastical embrace of the future and the stories that such a future can hold. Imagine a sustainable world with glorious personalized fashion made for you. Fashion that makes you feel good and can aptly aid in your self-expression.” I begin as coherently as I can manage. Somehow my voice remains steady. Perhaps it is the desire to show Dev-Ay I am unaffected, or perhaps it was because I wanted to impress Crewel. But either way, I seemed to speak with a charisma I didn’t think I had. There was a prolonged moment of silence after I finished speaking before finally the live audience began to clap following Crewel’s and Neige’s examples. Their applause felt louder than any I had heard for me before and more impactful as it addressed my creations, it validated my ideas not some lame school speech. It was unexpected. Especially since afterward, the applause was noticeably quieter for the now flustered and disorganized Dev-Ay.

After the showcase, I felt my energy start to deplete rapidly. I figured that the potion was starting to wear off. Hopefully, I wouldn’t fall in front of Dev-Ay, I don’t want to give him fuel to berate me. While everyone else was chatting as the audience left and the models change, Dev-Ay approached me.

“Why? Why is it that you of all people did so well? Why couldn’t you just fold as you used to? Are you so proud now? Are you so proud after falsely accusing the one person that I love? You’ll never be anything but a pathetic liar who tears down other people. Are you upset because at least she liked being a girl? Were you mad that you couldn’t escape something that she accepted? Fuck you, fuck your whole fake-ass messaging. I despise you. I wish you would take a dive off the roof like you so badly wanted to before we were friends.” It took me a while to find the words I wanted to say. I didn’t know exactly what to say honestly. If he blamed me, then was there any way he would listen to me? Would he believe I was making excuses simply because I wanted to look good? Did he really want me to die because of this? Regardless I found my mouth moving before I could stop it.

“I don’t understand what my gender identity has to do with my distaste for Rachel. I was never upset at Rachel because she was cisgender. I think you of all people should understand that. Why are you so convinced that I lied to you? Do you love her so much you couldn’t see what she did to me? Has she never crossed your boundaries as she did to me? Or did you believe I actually withheld the information she conveniently forgot? That she claimed she forgot. I could be wrong. There is always the chance I misread her, but she hurt me and crossed my boundaries. I won’t go into the specifics again because you stopped listening to me years ago. But there’s no reason you should be this upset with me. The only way I hurt her was by telling her exactly what she had done and telling her that I couldn’t stay friends with her. I wasn’t wrong for standing up for myself like you never did for me. Your ability to trust seems like a blessing, but it may be a curse.” I respond with quiet, seething frustration, trying to remain as calm as possible but inevitably speaking poisonously. Before I know it I’m on the ground with blood pouring from my nose and a sore jaw. It takes me a moment to register what just happened. I try to get back up to my feet, but I can’t even move my legs to stand.

“Ren!” Neige called out with concern causing all eyes to turn toward Dev-Ay, Neige, and me. I bite my lip before trying desperately to tell my legs to move, but they simply shake beneath me on the floor as if they’re too scared to move. Too afraid that maybe they’re going to be hit next rather than my face.

“Dev-Ay. I was sincere when I told you I enjoyed being your friend and I was grateful for everything you had done for me.” I start, looking up at Dev-Ay who is clenching his hands into fists, “I don’t regret being friends with you, or stopping our friendship. I know that it was the right thing for me to do. I understand your anger. No, I understand that you are angry because you believe something I can not possibly fathom. But I never hated you. All I ask is that you let what happened to us remain in the past, it doesn’t benefit anyone to retain anger built on, at best, miscommunication.” I manage to say, smiling at Dev-Ay knowing it would make him angrier. Before he can respond Crewel and a few security officers walk over. The officers detain Dev-Ay who screams about how vile I truly am.

“That looks really bad Ren. Oh no, let me get some help.” Neige states with worry.

“I’ll take them to the nearest medic. You should calm the onlookers down.” Crewel states before picking me up again.

“Hah, I feel like a kid who got in a fight, and their overprotective dad came to pick them up,” I mumble in my exhausted delirium. The pain wasn’t even present anymore, I was just tired and numb.

“Haha, well I’ve taken a liking to you. Though next time someone punches you, bite back. Especially if it’s going to impact your precious face. You certainly have the charisma to back it up.”

“Aw, dad called me precious hehe. Thank you, you’ve really pampered me like a lil’ puppy while I was here. I feel weirdly comfortable with you. Man, I don’t want to fall asleep for a third time on you. It’s rude to use a celebrity like a pillow. And I’m not that charismatic, I’m just a bit silly.” I mumble with a yawn.

“You can fall asleep. You need it, and that potion, while good for a short time, does make you even more tired than before you use it. You did well, little pup. Though we have some training to do so you can do better in the future.”

“… Thank you,” I mumble quietly, avoiding leaning on Crewel with my bloody face as much as possible. I suppose he didn’t want the incompetent security to carry me this time, though I don’t know why he was compelled to carry me before. He really is like a father figure. I wish that I’d met him sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have run into Rachel then. But I guess if I met him earlier I may have just been another kid, not someone of note.

The rest of the trip to a medic is in silence. When we get there the lady is nice and heals me with the stipulation that I rest for a solid two days to regain my energy. She asks if I have a guardian, to which I say of course, and that I will be fine under their care. Though how much of that will be true when I go back home is left to be decided. I don’t stay awake for too much longer, though I do hear a vague murmur of Crewel’s voice and phone chatter before I drift off to sleep.

– “Oh wow! This is amazing. Ren, you have to work with me on the next partner event that comes up. I would love to work with you!” Neige states as the dream fades into view. “Thank you. I’m quite flattered. Your designs are excellent as well.” I comment with a small smile before explaining that while it would be nice to work together I had already promised to work with someone else for the next event. Before I hear Neige’s reaction the dream shifts suddenly and I am in a cage. “I still love you you know. I was really hurt that you lied to Dev-Ya like that my sweet, adorable, Renny bird.” Rachel states with a certain sadness before reaching into the birdcage and caressing my face with her cold bony hands. “Why am I here?” I ask shakily before coughing a bit. My throat feels dry and my body feels cold. “Oh Renny, you know I can’t have you run away again. You’ll spread more lies and hurt more people. Unless I help you. Let me help you, I know I can fix you. Piece together the shattered pieces of you. Come here, I’ll give you a hug, just like before. We can make everything okay again.” Rachel says, her sickly sweet voice bouncing between the bars of the birdcage. I can’t say anything, I just stare at her as her arms elongate and weave through the bars to reach me. To touch me. To keep me trapped in this birdcage. –

I wake up with a start and sit up quickly before someone pushes me back into bed.

“What happened to you? Did you trip over the stairs? I warned you those long pants would make you fall dummy.” My sister Vera comments before sitting back down next to me, “Seriously though I was worried when I got a call to home about you being sick again. Did you overuse your magic?”

“Like you’re any better. Who are you to ask if I tripped on the stairs, didn’t you fall up a ramp that one time?”

“Oh shush you. You didn’t answer my question. What happened?”

“Dev-Ya punched me. I don’t know if he tried to sabotage my outfits yet, but I strongly suspect he was related to that too. Sorry I didn’t tell you about getting into the fashion thing. You weren’t home for a while anyways right?” I justify just recalling the fact I was planning on messaging her before and just didn’t.

“Ren, I wasn’t home sure, but you still should have told me! I would have come to see your work if it lined up with my work schedule.”

“Oh Vera, you’ll never guess who I met.”

“Oh really? Try me.”

“I met Divus Crewel.”

“Yeah I know that much, he was the one who called me. Imagine my surprise when the Divus Crewel was calling about my older sibling needing someone to drive them home. Bro, he asked if I was your older sister, how goofy were you to warrant that question?”

“Bro- It’s not my fault though. I just accidentally didn’t realize I got on the wrong train car and dressed enough like a hobo that he assumed I was a child.”

“Bro.”

“I know bro.”

“Going back a bit, I thought Dev-ya cut contact with you after that gross nasty did the bad thing I shall not name.”

“Oh yes, thank you for not naming the bad thing. But yeah, I thought nothing would come of it, but apparently, he was really mad at me. I wonder if Rachel encouraged this. I don’t think he would have acted as extreme otherwise.”

“I mean yeah maybe. But he was always kind of ick though.”

“I know, you were right. You’re always right when it comes to people.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Hey Vera, can you hand me my phone?”

“No, I can’t.” They say handing me the phone anyways. I smile at them lightly and open up my phone to check a few things. Firstly, if I had been contacted by Crewel since apparently he had found out my sibling’s number he may have found my contacts. Specifically “home” or otherwise Vera called my phone, but I couldn’t pick up because I was deliriously exhausted.

“Oh right, I was supposed to tell the Crewel you woke up. He acts more like your dad than our actual dad did haha.”

“Yeah, right? I was thinking the same thing. If he was still alive I wonder if that would have changed at all. I mean, it was really mom who was the worse parent, at least dad had an excuse.”

“I guess. But whatever, not the time. Time to message your ‘new dad’ since you seemed to have picked one up out of nowhere. You better not abandon me for another family.” Vera states rolling her eyes.

“Thanks, dad, and of course I won’t, you’re the only blood-related family I want to stay in contact with at the moment,” I say playfully rolling my eyes back at her.

Vera messages Crewel and much more quickly than I had anticipated he is in the room with us. We talked about a few things. Who Dev-Ya was, why he was so upset, what relation it had to my outfits, and why I lied about having a parental figure at home.

“Come to think of it. You’re a celebrity designer, you’re quite busy. Why did you come here directly to talk to us?” Vera asks.

“Well, while Ren is a student of mine, I was thinking that I could provide you with a better job as well and a place much closer to my design studio. If you’re all the other has, it would be rather cruel for me to separate you for a lengthy period of time. Despite how my name sounds, I’m not unreasonable.”

“Okay dad, sure thing. You’ve been really soft with me though. I don’t see how you would be. You just have high expectations right?”

“Say what you will little pup. I’m sure you’ll find I’m not as lenient as you seem to think I am. Also, Ren. How is it that your sister dresses so fashionably and you dressed as you called it in ‘an unfashionable dad aesthetic’?” Crewel asks, raising a brow.

“I uh, make their clothes and they take care of their skin better than I do,” I mumble slowly looking away from Crewel.

“I told them I don’t need to look nice either, but they insist that I should wear nicer clothes. I’m not a seamstress like them, I’m a watercolour painter. So I can’t just make them nice clothes to wear as they do for me.”

“But you look so pretty though, you definitely deserve all the nice things.”

“No, I don’t, you do.”

“No, I refuse, you do.”

“It looks like two little pups in need of some retraining.” Crewel breaks up what was about to become a battle of the no-yous, “Anyways, after Ren fully recovers, I’ll take you to your new home and explain the job I have for you in greater detail. That should be suitable for you I presume?”

“Excuse me, but why would you help us? Did you just adopt my sibling and say I could tag along?” Vera asks a little skeptical about this sudden favor toward us.

“I mean it’s not like he doesn’t gain anything. We’re both skilled artists who could contribute to his business and we’re in a position where it would be best if we joined him to gain the benefits we would from this.”

“Okay, I get that, but I still don’t understand why us.”

“While I don’t need a reason and this little gremlin child would technically owe me under other circumstances, I have my personal reasons for this predicament. Also, I am deeply concerned by the fact you trusted me so quickly. I will tell you the rest eventually, but for the moment I’m sure good pups won’t question me further.”

“Oh, you’ve yet to see gremlin Ren my newly adopted father figure. Now that I’ve fallen asleep near you like three times, I think it’s safe to say you’ll see weirdness soon. You don’t seem like a bad person though? I mean, you’ve had plenty of chances to make my life significantly worse, but you didn’t.” I laugh a bit. Vera raises a brow at me like they were saying, ‘Do you have no sense of danger child?’

“Gremlin Ren? Like when you said ‘Aw, dad called me precious’? I suppose you may simply be a good judge of character, though I’d still be more careful.”

“Hebba debba ha- Shoosh, we don’t talk about deliriously tired Ren, and sure, I could be more careful I guess,” I respond quickly, waving my arms vaguely in his direction.

“Bro.” Vera vocalizes her surprise, crossing her arms and shaking her head.

“Since we haven’t yet, Ren, let us exchange numbers so that I can contact both of you if need be. I’d rather not call your sister every time.”

“Oh alright, yeah that’d be good, we won’t always be together, so that wouldn’t have worked out every time anyways,” I respond before remembering I had Neige’s number somewhere too. I completely forgot to mention him to Vera before, oh well I can bring him up later. For some reason, I don’t feel like I should mention him in front of Dadus Crewel.

We exchange numbers and chat a bit about my health, fashion, and my sibling’s art. Vera ends up being quite flustered but flattered by the compliments she receives. It’s quite cute actually. Eventually, Crewel leaves and I’m left to rest with Vera making sure that I don’t skip any meals. She knows that I won’t eat if I don’t feel like getting up.

There was a lot to think about laying down. What was going to happen with Dev-Ya and Rachel? Would I have to tell Crewel about Rachel? How was it going to be learning under Crewel? Would Vera finally meet her Idol since we were going to be in the fashion industry? What did the dream with Neige and Rachel mean? I could probably figure out a couple of them. My dreams tend to be tied to reality, though upsetting things always end up more abstracted or represented by different characters. The thing with Neige may actually happen, or something similar will occur if I don’t spoil the surprise again. The more abstract representation of Rachel means I might meet her again. There’s no way that I would actually be trapped in a birdcage right? That seems quite unlikely despite how unhinged Rachel can be. I’ll probably have to tell Crewel about Rachel if I notice anything off like with the outfits. Though given his resources I may not be the first one of us to bring it up. Maybe I’ll wait until he asks me about it.

Two days pass slowly with the occasional conversation with my sister and her excitement about having a potentially less dull job soon. We vaguely touch on the fact she might meet her idol and then she wonders if she’ll have to hide her fanart of him before remembering that the only art she gets is of fictional characters so it's fine. Besides which there’s no way that Epel Felmier would ever see her room anyways right? By the end of the second day, I feel energized enough to start packing things up. Though I take care to pack my clothes separately from everything else just in case they’ll be confiscated for use as scrap materials. Not that they would, but considering Crewel’s judgemental glances, I have a feeling it isn’t an unreasonable concern.

Vera convinces me to call Crewel this time since she had to do so last time and he arrives equally as quickly as before with a few people to help us pack up. He motions for us to follow him while the movers grab all of our stuff in storage containers of various sizes and random boxes. On the way, Crewel discusses Vera’s position on the creative team designated to Epel and she literally gasps.

That evening when Crewel isn’t within earshot Vera tells me they hope he doesn’t notice them because they would never be able to talk to him well and might even accidentally refer to him as “baby girl” which they know he doesn’t like.

Unexpectedly our conversation takes a pause when I receive a message from Dev-Ya. He had been the one to block me initially, so I couldn’t imagine anything good would come out of whatever message he sent me. Especially since the last time we spoke, he punched my face. I didn’t open the message, but I read the first bit of it that was displayed on my phone screen from the notification.

[I want to meet up to apologize to you properly.] It began. I had a feeling that he didn’t actually want to apologize. Though I could be wrong, it doesn’t feel like something he would do.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” Vera asks, breaking the silence.

“An unexpected message.” I say vaguely frowning at my phone before shutting it off entirely for the moment, “I don’t really want to look at it though.”

“Oh, did Elliot message you again?”

“Not this time, no. Also, I blocked Elliot, I won’t be receiving his messages unless he does something to get around being blocked.”

“You seem to have a lot of enemies,” Crewel adds walking into the room with a pointer that has two collars attached to the other end of it. He was usually depicted with it, so it’s weird he didn’t have it at the event.

“Well, when you’re a doormat you tend to attract people who want to use you. Not that I am as much anymore, but it does sometimes feel like it would be easier to be one again.”

“That’s why I told you not to deal with them in the first place dummy,” Vera mutters.

“Are you sure you’re not the older sibling Vera?”

“Oh come on. Besides Vera is taller than me which automatically makes her the younger sibling.” I say playfully gesturing dramatically to Vera.

“That was because you were malnourished, you’re taller than me now,” Vera comments in turn with a small frown.

“Well I was going to get right to business, but I have a feeling we should discuss what happened with Dev-Ya on Glamour Isle.”

“I would be totally cool with skipping over that for now. Business stuff ooh.” I point finger guns in Crewel’s general direction.

“Oh wait, was that who messaged you?” Vera cuts in.

“What lead you to that conclusion? But yes, Dev-Ya texted me.” I sigh lightly rubbing the back of my neck anxiously.

“Well, that is concerning. What did he say?” Crewel asks, looking at me pointedly.

“I didn’t want it to pop up read so I only looked at the part that popped up in the notification. I don’t know what the rest says, but apparently, he wants to apologize. I doubt he means to apologize given how volatile our last meeting was.” I explain tiredly, rubbing my eyes and sighing.

“Bro block him. Gross. I bet Rachel told him to apologize so she can try to get back on your good side after ‘that’.”

“I figured much the same … I guess I should tell you who Rachel is now that we’re staying in your care huh? You certainly picked a puppy with a lot of problems.” I say with a small laugh before taking a deep breath and thinking about how to start.

“You are by no means obligated to give me your life story simply because I’ve brought you here. Though it would be helpful to identify people to avoid or deal with later.” Crewel responds, mumbling the last part and hitting his pointer against his hand.

“I didn’t catch that last bit, but I still feel like I should anyways. I won’t go into specifics, but essentially I was in a relationship where I would give as much as I could to make Rachel happy, but she never listened to me or returned the affection I gave. It got particularly bad at one point, but I won’t get into that. It messed with a lot of my friendships though since that became my standard. Elliot, who was mentioned earlier, is similar, but worse in some ways. I’m lucky I found out who he was before I met him in person though.” I explain vaguely, pausing a few times, wondering if I should be telling Crewel all of this. He practically adopted us, I’m not even sure how things worked out this well, but I couldn’t help but feel like as soon as he knew more he was going to throw me away.

“It looks like you were surrounded by some pathetic mutts. I’ll make sure they don’t show up around you. For now, you should probably block any of them you’ve yet to and stay focused on something that won’t keep your anxiety up. I’m sure that all deeply impacted you. No one goes through upsetting events unscathed. I don’t really do hugs, but you two can speak to me about anything that is troubling you. It’s one of the responsibilities I signed up for taking you in as my students. A teacher's job is to make sure his students thrive in the learning environment.”

“You’re definitely acting like a dad now. You don’t do hugs? What's with carrying me to a medic instead of letting someone else do it?”

“I’m not sure actually.”

“Oh? You’re not sure? Sounds likely fatherly instincts ooh.”

“…” Crewel doesn’t reply, he simply places a hand to his chin thoughtfully, placing the hand with the pointer in it against his elbow.

“Hey, Ren you should block those nasties.” Vera points out before I can react to Crewel’s silence. I had already forgotten that blocking people was mentioned so my mouth forms an ‘oh yeah’ before I turn my phone back on. It flashes on a full brightness before returning to the lowest setting where I usually have it.

“Ow, my eyes,” I grumble before going through and blocking the numbers I had yet to block. It was Dev-Ya’s and some guy named Teiran I didn’t remember but had a negative feeling about for some reason. Rachel and Elliot were already blocked before so I didn’t have to worry about them for now.

“You came in here to talk business initially right? Let’s do that.” Vera states, taking a lead in the conversation. Probably in hopes that Crewel would leave as soon as he said what he planned to.

“Right, business. First of all, excuse me for barging in earlier. I can assure you this will not become a habit. I live separately from you and I’ll make sure to inform you if I need to speak with you both prior to my visits unless it's an emergency of course. Onto business, there is a large event surrounding new fashion coming up in six months, the Summer Unlimited Fibers Fresh and Economic Revolution annual event. You’ll be put into teams of at least three. Though these teams can be sorted out beforehand which is what we’re going to do. As you may have already guessed, I plan to assign you two to a team with Vil Shoenheit and Epel Felmier. Until then, however, we need to increase your prestige and credibility.”

“I’m mildly concerned by the fact it spells the out ‘suffer’ as the acronym, but I digress. So you mean you’ll be making sure we get into events to showcase our abilities? If this goes well, we’ll be working on one of the biggest events in the fashion world with some of the most well know fashion-related celebrities. But if you have other pupils, then why did you select us?”

“Oh, I suppose I should have specified. I’m also a teacher at Night Raven College. The students there are probably who you mean by my ‘other pupils’. As for why I chose you two, there are a few reasons. Most obviously, it brings diversity to the group. A non-binary gremlin with dark-academia vibes and a lady steeped in Ouji fashion pair well with the adorable Epel and glamorous monarch-esque Vil. It’s like a set of fantasy villains. Quite an eye-catching arrangement no? Additionally, you already work well together, I’m afraid some of my other students are too much like divas to work well as a group. Individually they all have strengths, but until they mesh, they’re like oil and water. While you have yet to work with Epel and Vil, you will be more willing to compromise with them when necessary.”

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. Diversity is an important note for intrigue. However, I’m under the impression that this is in part because of Neige’s potential group. Either they’re also trying to be diverse, or that group is going to essentially be a boy band right?”

“Correct. Given the previous year, it’s likely that Neige’s group is going to be more diverse. There was a lot of discourse surrounding some of the former members, though somehow that discourse gave Neige a popularity boost.” Crewel states, his voice dripping with annoyance.

“Right, weren’t Neige and Vil placed on the same team as two newbies who ended up being a mess all things considered?”

“Unfortunately.”

“So you don’t want the hosts to make Neige and Vil part of the same team again? But you don’t have much time to locate some new talents, and those you could reach out to would make things more difficult.”

“Essentially.”

“Considering that you came here almost immediately. You have something in mind to get us started right?”

“Very good. Yes, I have a few events lined up for you. I’ll handle getting you in, you are going to need to focus on curating new designs. I have more for you after this event, so don’t burn yourself out like last time. Since security was so lax at the last location, I can promise you I’ll ensure more reliable security this time.”

“Can you tell us the specifics like dates and themes?”

“I’ll go over it with you another day, but for now I’ll be E-Mailing you all of the relevant information. Though I’ll need to give you your company E-Mails and their passwords before you can use them.”

“Company E-Mails? Wow- that’s fancy.”

“Oh, we had those at my previous job.” Vera mumbles.

“Good, then you should be familiar with professional E-Mail etiquette.”

“E-Mails have etiquette?”

“…” Vera and Crewel look at each other, perhaps wondering how I had made it this far without knowing that there was such a thing as E-Mail etiquette. Crewel ends up discussing specifics with us anyways before handing us our company E-Mail information. After he leaves Vera and I unpack a few more things while bouncing ideas off of each other for the first event.

We head to bed soon after and both wake up early. Getting used to a new space was going to take a little bit. Everything was so much cleaner than it ever had been. There’s only so much progress we were able to make at the old house with my studies and Vera’s work. Regardless, we had things to do and not much time to dilly-dally about new surroundings.

The next few days raced by and before we knew it we were presenting in front of a crowd. Though this one was notably smaller than the one from the Flash Forward Frenzy. Unexpectedly, Neige was one of the guest judges alongside Vil. After the show is over Neige approaches us.

“I didn’t expect to see you here! Wow, your designs are still so impressive. Oh, a pleasure to meet you, Vera, I’m Neige LeBlanche!” Neige starts excitedly grasping my hands, acknowledging my sister after a moment's pause.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Vera, Ren’s sister.” Vera introduces, looking at Neige’s hands and then back to me with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello again! Also, I’m sorry, I completely misplaced your business card, so I wasn’t able to add your number to my contacts after everything.” I apologize, wondering if he was under the impression that I just didn’t like him.

“Oh no, well I suppose it’s not unexpected. You were in really bad shape after the Frenzy. I’m surprised you were on your feet this quickly. Hmm, why don’t I just add my number to your phone this time? There’s no way you’ll lose it that way!” He states with a wide smile befitting a prince.

“Sure! That would probably be better.” I reply before pulling out my phone. Vera blinks at me, ‘Seriously? You know that Vil and Neige are rivals, you really want to die on the hill of befriending everyone until you get hurt?’ I hand Neige my phone and he quickly types in his number. I stifle a laugh when I see that he’s oh-so graciously nicknamed himself for future reference.

“Do people call you Neggy?” I ask curiously, looking at the little heart emote he’d added at the end too. I mean it was distinct, I’d give him that, but it felt a little unnecessary.

“Only friends do. I’d like to think we’ll be friends though so you can call me Neggy too!” Neige explains still just as bubbly and excited as before.

“Okay, but I’ll still refer to you as Neige in public.” I smile a bit. He was cute if nothing else. It was like finding a little brother. Though Vera would always be my favorite sibling. Before I can give Neige my number in turn Vil joins us.

“Hello, Neige. Sorry to cut your conversation short, but these two have a prior engagement.” Vil states with a practiced smile, elegantly placing a hand on his chin. I wonder how much of the conversation he heard when walking over. Regardless Vera’s assessment that being friendly toward Neige would give me problems was probably going to be a little too accurate. Vil was already displeased, I couldn’t imagine that our trip to the meeting room with Crewel and Epel was going to be comfortable.

“Yes, unfortunately, we do have something else to tend to. I’m sure we’ll meet again given the industry. Let’s head out.” I add, looking at Vera who rolls her eyes at me and also confirms that we should leave.

“Ah, goodbye Ren. I hope we have a chance to talk more next time. Safe travels!” Neige says before saying farewell to Vera and Vil collectively. We walk in silence until we reach our transportation. After the door shuts Vil starts to speak.

“So you’re friendly with Neige LeBlanche?” He asks with a smile that conveyed his displeasure.

“Well, I don’t have a negative opinion of him as of the moment. But we’ve only spoken a few times so it’s difficult to say if I’d ever give him preference. Though to be frank, my main concern is being polite since unlike you, my clout isn’t very good.” I explain. It was true that I was fairly neutral towards Neige, he may be cute, but he’s not very memorable for anything but that. Given the choice, I’d rather be friends with Vil since that would make things less complicated and Vil is also more interesting. The media is divided on how to depict Vil as his fashion sense and acting career have cast him as a villain. Do they show him as tragic, cruel, or even secretly good?

“I see. I suppose that makes sense. Though I will remind you to avoid being too friendly with him. Even if you’re just being polite others will take your politeness as affection and twist your image.” Vil explains, a bit softer and less peeved than earlier. Was he worried about me? “I have to agree with Vil. Ren, you’re too careless with people.” Vera adds quietly, glancing at Vil before looking at me, “You shouldn’t have let Neige grab your hands either, what if there were paparazzi? Neige has the barrier of being the highest-ranking celebrity, you’re not safe from being slandered and defamed.” Vera adds with concern, her voice shaking.

“Vera- I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that the media is going to depict me as a playboy at this point. I mean, there’s no way that there aren’t pictures of Crewel carrying me circulating at the moment. With that, if there also end up being pictures of Neige holding my hands then I’ll be in trouble.” I apologize, sorting out my thoughts and realizing all at once just the predicament I had been put in.

“Usually Crewel is so careful about his image. But I suppose he has always had a soft spot for his students. Though he would never admit that.” Vil muses, “If you understand all of that, why aren’t you more guarded?” Vil adds with added annoyance.

“I- don’t have anything to say for myself. It’s just stupid.” I state looking down at my feet.

“We’ll discuss this with Crewel later. Vera, you weren’t at the Frenzy so I didn’t get to see your abilities in action before. I’m excited to see what you’ll do in the future. You seem quite promising, and perhaps wise.” Vil compliments Vera who smiles a bit before thanking Vil for his compliments. Eventually, it reaches the topic of understanding why Crewel said he’d need to fix my wardrobe.

“We already have plans to curate your wardrobe, unfortunately, there simply wasn’t time before this event, so you had to wear the ones from Glamour Isle. But no more. I shall make you shine like a diamond. And perhaps blind Neige.”

“What is it with people mumbling the last part of their sentences? I’m grateful for your time and efforts in this. I’ll try not to undermine your expectations.”

Eventually, we make our way to the meeting room where a few unfamiliar faces sit with Crewel and Epel. Most of them are dressed in business attire with some notes, but one of them looks completely different from the rest. Dressed in a dark feathered cloak with a crow mask and cane, the fae lounges at the head of the table. This also implies that he has a higher position than Crewel. Who is this guy?

“Ah! You’re all here. Yes, it is I. Crowley your beloved CEO and headmaster at NRC.” Yeah, I still have no idea who Crowley is.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crowley,” I say with a polite smile.

“Yes, it’s lovely to meet you, Mr. Crowley,” Vera says in turn.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you attend the meeting CEO,” Vil states with an elegant practiced smile.

“There is no need to be so formal with me! Just call me Crowley. After all, you all are important assets to our company.” Crowley states in a sing-song tone, “Oh right, feel free to sit anywhere, there’s no need to stand so stiffly.” He adds with the motion of his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” I say before sitting one seat away from Crewel so that Vera can be seated beside two people she knows. Vil sits beside Epel on the other side of the table and introductions of everyone at the table begin. The table consists of Crowley, Crewel, Epel, Vera, Vil, Trein, Vanrouge, and I. The meeting covers schedules, the clean up for Crewel’s sudden dadittude, and current media standings. Admittedly during the more budget-oriented pieces of the conversation, I was completely lost.

After the meeting ends Crowley leaves immediately followed by Vanrouge. Epel and Vil head out after speaking briefly to Crewel. Vera and I decide to follow Vil out for the moment. We weren’t stopped so we left the room. Vil notices us and motions for us to walk a bit closer to the two of them. I can almost hear Vera internally screaming being so close to Epel.

“We have more to discuss outside of the meeting since they didn’t cover everything. You’re probably wondering who Lillia Vanrouge and Mozus Trein are. They’re investors in the company that happen to be on good terms with most of us. Since they have such a big say in our company, they tend to appear in official meetings discussing budgets and plans for the company's future.”

“You realize that Crewel probably would have explained all of that to them right?”

“Yes, but the conversations between Trein and Crewel tend to be lengthy. We have to wait anyways, it makes for better discussion if the other parties aren’t preoccupied with something else.” Vil says motioning for everyone to sit down in what is probably a waiting room or lounge of some sort.

“Eh- Yeah okay. Ahem. Hello again, I’m Epel. It’s nice to meet you both.” Epel says with a sparkly smile.

“Wow, I didn’t realize that people could literally sparkle,” I mumble thoughtlessly. Vera covers my mouth before I finish.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Vera states simply, smiling politely but definitely freaking out internally. After a bit, she uncovers my mouth and I am free to speak again.

“I guess we’ll be seeing each other a lot more frequently right? So wouldn’t it be a good idea to figure out some baseline things to avoid doing? For example, eating sounds really bother me. If I dine with others, it is usually in a noisy place so I’m less overwhelmed by the eating noises but rather the environment.”

“Ah, I suppose you’re right. Then I’ll state the obvious. Be more careful about your image and who you associate with. Additionally, do not needless contact Neige LeBlanche as that too could become problematic.”

“Ah, I get it, if anyone sees either party text the other, a deeper relationship will be assumed because it makes for a better story and more interesting gossip.”

“Exactly. I suppose that means you had no intentions of actually contacting him then?”

“Well, I was undecided initially, which is why I even mentioned the number again in the first place, but given this, it’s better to avoid contacting him. He’s been at the center of enough drama where everyone else ended up looking bad that I don’t really want to chance an ‘Oops, I didn’t realize they could see my screen lol’ moment.”

“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

“I suppose if it's just us, avoid calling me cute or referring to me too fondly. I’d rather not be bombarded with those things outside of work too.” Epel adds, still sounding soft and polite.

“Ah, alright. If I had to add something, it would probably be along the lines of wariness around group chats or anything. I’ve had a friend or two in ‘secret’ group chats that were too careless about ensuring the excluded parties weren’t aware they were excluded.” Vera mentions with a brief explanation.

Before we could continue the conversation an announcement was made over the loudspeakers to find a place to hide while a situation was being dealt with.

“Well, that is concerning,” I mumble.

“What in tarnation? Concerning? That’s downright mortifying. What could possibly be happening?” Epel replies with a panicked expression.

“Let’s go into the nearest room. Now.” Vil states staying composed and ushering us all into a room that has a door that locks.

“It’s our first day here and something went wrong,” Vera mumbles, leaning on me and clutching their arms tightly.

“I’m not sure what’s happening, but it will be alright, we’ll just stay quiet. I’m right here.” I whisper as quietly as I can, placing a hand on Vera’s shoulder. The room stays silent after that. Outside of the room, we hear footsteps and a knock of metal on the floor.

Clack clack, clang, clack clack, clang

The person outside calls a name I don’t recognize, but Vil’s expression shifts into one of disturbed understanding.

“I know you’re here my love. Just come out and we can talk.” The voice calls out with a deranged laugh. ‘Ah, it’s someone’s crazy fan or ex.’ I think frowning a bit.

Clack clack, clang, clack clack BANG

The door shudders as a dent forms in it. It takes a moment to process that it was our door that had been hit until I see Epel standing before the door, magic circling his hands while he stands in front of us.

“Oh? Are those frightened breaths I hear? My my, you always were such a delicate thing weren’t you?” The voice exclaims, excitement dripping over their words as something crashes into the door again. I find myself wondering how this guy got here, how they possibly managed to get past security in this place.

BANG

The dent grows as the hinges cry out in pain.

BANG

The door squeals in agony.

BANG … Thonk

The door falls down slowly as an unfamiliar grinning figure peers into the room.

“Oh Icy, there you are!” The intruder exclaims looking at Vera. Vera looks confused and frightened. I find myself moving before I can think about it. I crash through the door we locked to get in here, pulling Vera behind me.

“GET BACK HERE!” They scream followed by the sound of fire crackling through the air followed by the whip of vines.

“Who the fuck is that?” Vera whisper screams, grabbing my hand tightly.

“I don’t know. But we need you to get out of here, or hide really well.” I say in reply, my voice sounding much calmer than the heart beating in my chest. My shoulder starts to throb.

“I-I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know who that is.” She says panicked.

“I know, I know, it’s not your fault, they’re just a creep.” I console them, starting to lead them toward another exit from the waiting room.

“Eugh- I won’t let you pass through here!” Epel shouts after a sound of pain. Before I can stop her, Vera barrels back into the previous room and punches the creepy stranger back through the doorway.

“No one hurts my friends,” Even she must not have known what came over her, but hearing her idol cry out in pain led her to punch the intruder with a force even she didn’t know she had. They fly through the doorway and crash through the door across the hallways.

“Agh- My sweet- why do you pain me so? I came all this way for you.” The stranger pleads. I feel useless as I watch Vil, Epel, and Vera.

“She wants nothing to do with you. Get that through your head or you won’t be left with just a few burns and scars.” Vil states with a venomous smile spreading over his lips.

“How did they get here? I don’t think they should have been able to. Is there anyone who would want to hurt Vera maybe? … Could it be Rachel again? Is she trying to destroy what I have left so I fall back into her arms?” I mumble to myself before hearing another crash. Vil had thrown the stranger through another door.

“That’s going to be a pain to replace.” Crowley comments walking towards the stranger, “Sorry, but who are you? And why are you bothering us on such an important day?” He adds with a certain detached annoyance like he was talking to a bug. It was then that I managed to walk back toward everyone to see what was happening.

“I’m just here to see my dearly beloved!” The intruder insists.

“That creep has nothing to do with my sister. But he thinks he is.” I state walking over, my heart beating loudly in my chest, “I was trying to be nice earlier.” I add with a practiced smile.

“How is taking my sweet Ice rose away from me a kindness? You just wanted her for yourself.” As they argue I catch a glance at their eyes, they’re cloudy. I stare at them for a moment before something clicks.

“You drank it,” I mutter.

“It’s a miracle thing, isn’t it? Oh, I was so close to holding my love. If you weren’t here- if I get rid of you-” The stranger realizes, rising despite their disfigured form.

“I don’t think so.” Crowley states bonking the stranger on the head with his hand knocking the fool out cold, “Now, I trust you’ll explain what you meant by ‘you drank it?’” Crowley asks motioning for some personnel to get rid of the creep.

“No, you mean they drank that?” Vera cuts in, “It’s- it’s a monstrous potion. It relieves you of all worldly pain, but you lose your ability to perceive right and wrong, as it eats away at you you start to decay and you’re susceptible to others' intentions. If they really drank that- then that means Rachel is involved.” She explains, rushing over as I lose my balance.

“This Rachel is going to be a much larger problem than I initially assumed.” Crewel comments, supporting me from behind as well, “But that doesn’t explain how that mangy mutt got in here in the first place.”

“If the only benefit of that potion was the elimination of pain it wouldn’t be as tempting. If you know which one it is you can probably piece together what happened. But one of the things the potion does is amplify your magic until you overblot. You either decay or overblot, and neither is a pleasant end.” I explain further, scratching at my arms as the ickiness settles into my skin.

“Why exactly do you know all of this?” Trein asks, walking over with a tap of his cane announcing his presence.

“… That’s how my best friend died,” I whisper with a small, pained, laugh.

“I’m sorry for your loss Ren. It is never easy to lose someone. I am too old now to guarantee your safety under my watch. But I will support you the best I can in other ways.” Trein states, looking between Vera and me.

“Hm, well given the dire circumstances I think I could keep an eye on them. Besides, it would be like adopting wor- children.” Crowley states, absolutely about to say workers instead of children before he corrected himself.

“There’s no need for that Crowley, I’m already taking care of their housing, so I’ll be the one to settle them into a safer space if need be,” Crewel states in turn.

“Hahahaha,” Vera starts laughing.

“I hardly think this is the time to be laughing child,” Crowley states.

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just- you all barely know us but you’ve already accepted us more than our family ever did. It’s just kind of funny you know? Maybe I’m tired.” Vera states laughing a bit more while tearing up. She sniffles and tries to calm down her tears but Epel hugs her.

“There there.” He states, patting their back.

Crewel notices before I do that I’m crying too. He wipes away my tears with a handkerchief and sighs.

“You always seem to get hurt when something happens.” He says, placing a hand lightly on my injured shoulder causing me to flinch, “Let’s get you patched up, we’ll discuss what to do about your safety after that at least.” He adds.

Vil looks at Crewel as though he’d grown a second head.

“You’re not going to pick me up again are you?” I ask with a sniffle before turning my head to look up at Crewel. He smiles a bit.

“That depends, can you walk this time?” He asks though the answer was quickly found to be no, “Hm, well I’m afraid you’re going to have to sit still and be carried this time as well little pup.” He muses. I sigh and just let him carry me. Crowley joins Vil in his baffled stare at Crewel.

“What- is happening,” Vil asks furrowing his brows and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dad instincts,” Vera mumbles through sniffles.

“I suppose he does have a habit of adopting promising children, or ‘pups’ as he calls you.” Trein muses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Hah, this really is going to be quite expensive. You’ll need to deal with that Rachel person sooner rather than later.” Crowley comments before he takes his leave.

“Unfortunately I can’t stay for too much longer either. However, Vil, you have my number. I ask that you update me on the situation when you can.” Trein states leaving as well.

“I’m sorry, your jacket is soaked with tears,” Vera says seeing Epel’s now wet jacket.

“It’s fine. I don’t get the whole unsupportive family bit, but I’m all too familiar with being in an unexpected fight with someone you don’t know. NRC isn’t exactly full of friendly faces. ‘Sides, you were really something. I didn’t expect ya ta smack the bastard in gob like that.” Epel states, slipping into an unfamiliar accent. Usually, he sounds like a well-read nobleman.

“I just heard you get hurt and my body was already moving on its own. I can’t take too much credit for that. I’m not nearly as brave as it seems.” Vera explains quickly.

“Not many have such noble intentions. Well, I suppose you won’t be a burden despite the issues that seem to surround your sibling. Though my opinion is subject to change should you prove to be loutish.” Vil comments.

– “Ow- I didn’t think I’d dislocated it, it just felt numb at first,” I grumble, rubbing the arm where healing magic was applied.

“In an ideal world, you’d have time to rest, but for the moment we should discuss safety. Previously you would not be living with anyone but your sibling. Given the circumstances would you be more comfortable living in my house? Given my status, I have trained guards to deal with intruders like that person.”

“It would probably be safer to stay somewhere that secure. It’ll be a pain, yes, but I’m not going to deny any greater level of protection. Though I have my reservations about hired guards at this point.”

“That’s understandable. I can assure you, however, that my hired personnel will be much more reliable. Crowley and the owner of the organization that hosted the Frenzy prefer cost effectiveness to function.” Crewel grumbles.

“Da- Crewel! You shouldn’t say that in the building, slander the man later.”

“Pfft, but you don’t disagree.”

“Of course not, I’ve seen what happened- dude I was there. I mean last time was like two minutes ago. Eugh, I’m so tired now too.”

“You should get some rest here then. Would you prefer I stay here, or leave?”

“Thanks for that, do what you think is best.” I didn’t want to make him stay when there was going to be a lot of aftermath to sort out, and it was very unlikely that something would happen immediately after the last incident. Rachel doesn’t work like that, she eats away at you slowly until you give in to her.

Crewel ended up staying in the room, at least until I fell asleep.

– “Oh Ren, did you enjoy our game of hide and seek? I had so much fun finding you.” ‘No, I recognize that voice.’ “You were so difficult to get a hold of. Were you that confused my dear? It’s okay, I can help you now. Just trust in me.” ‘No. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with her here.’ “Come closer, little Ren. I’ll make sure you’re safe in my arms.” Rachel’s arms wrap around me and begin to constrict me, suffocating me. It feels like all of the air is being pushed out of my lungs as the cold arms continue to snake around me and hold me closer. “My adorable dear.”

–

TL;DR: Ren meets Crewel on a train after accidentally entering the wrong car and Crewel notices their distinct lack of fashion. From there Ren participates in a Speed Fashion contest with an unreasonable time limit and manages to prove their worth. Given this, Crewel takes in both Ren and their sister Vera to contribute to his team starring Vil and Epel. In the midst of this an old 'friend' from Ren's past resurfaces as an adversary.

#twisted wonderland #writing #fanfiction #divus crewel #twst crewel #We love the trope where someone just decides “You see this gremlin? This is my child now”#first post #It feels like I'm committing a crime.#I'm so sorry for this #Look #I know It's long #But It's fine #I'm totally mentally healthy #And not at all trying to escape reality #You should drink water #Also hi #Do you like it?#self indulgent

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duskholland · 4 years ago

Text

No Control || Frat!Tom Smut

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

✧ *:･ﾟNo Control･ﾟ:*✧

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

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

He instantly knows that he wants you.

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

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

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

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

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

“At what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harrison rolls his eyes. “Go on.”

“See ya, mate.”

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

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

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

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

Tom likes how your voice sounds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smirk. “Business major,” you supply.

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

“I know. We’re in the same class.”

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

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

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

“I don’t know. Will you?”

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

“Have fun,” you say, stepping back.

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

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

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

“Eh… a couple weeks,” Harrison supplies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You walk in.

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

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

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

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

Right?

“I don’t need to—”

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

Harrison grimaces. “Are you sure?”

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

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

“Yep. Go for it.”

“Thanks, bro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So why can’t he stop thinking about you?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom thinks he could get you to moan louder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“Well?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harrison is not my boyfriend,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See ya!” he calls back.

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tom, I couldn’t—”

“Yeah, you can.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell her what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What if it rains?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Hazzy.”

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

Tom blinks. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“Aww.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight kiss,” Tom begs. “Please?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As if.”

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

“And how’s your hangover?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Care for a nut?”

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

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

“Dirty girl,” he mutters, grinning wickedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is this proper charm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait— I can walk back home.”

“Nah. It’s fine.”

“It’s out of the way, though.”

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

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

“No problem, love.”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“Small talk?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah. Crazy. Did you have fun?”

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

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

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

“Eh?”

“Nothing. It was nothing.”

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

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

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

“Woah,” you mutter. “Sorry.”

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

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

“Aren’t we friends?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom nods. “Yeah. I’m great.”

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

“Tom. What are you doing with him?”

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

“Nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you respond, slightly breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

“You know,” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You quirk a brow. “No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tom’s brows raise. “Did you..?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I taste your pussy, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ride you?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y’wanna flip?”

“Yeah. Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your girl?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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

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

thank you for reading!! <3<3

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

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accioxreparo · 5 years ago

Photo

ink stains

synopsis: soulmate au in which every mark that appears on your body also appears on your soulmate’s body including, as you discover one day, drawings. Needless to say you’re determined to make your soulmate smile, even if you haven’t found them yet.

pairing: George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader

warnings: none

a/n: Hi I’m late to the party but @thoseofgreatambition is doing a soulmate theme night and I’m a ho for soumate au’s so hopefully mine is decent enough lol also I may or may not be writing one for fred too but it’s taking me ages so

tagging: @the-hufflepuff-of-221b

~~~~~~

When you were six years old you woke up one morning to dark stains splattered all over your face and arms. You were confused and quickly grew panicked, absolutely positive that you had contracted Dragon Pox overnight. It had taken an hour for your dad to calm you down enough so he could explain with a small grin that your soulmate must’ve spilled an inkwell on themselves.

“What do you mean?” You had asked with wide, curious eyes.

“Well,” Your dad had reached for the bedside table and picked up a quil. “Everybody has a soulmate, Y/N. One day you start being able to see the marks that appear on your soulmate's body, permanent or temporary. For you, that day happens to be today.” He dipped the quil in a well filled with bright blue ink and handed it to you. “Why don’t you give it a try? Write your soulmate a message.”

“What if they don’t write back?” You had frowned then, suddenly worrying that maybe this mystery person on the other end would want nothing to do with you.

“Well that’s okay,” Your dad had been quick to reassure you. “They might not be able to see the marks yet. But one day they will and I just know they’ll be ecstatic to know you’re here.”

After that day there was a constant stream of doodles all over you. Vines snaking up your ankle. Twisting patterns winding around your fingers. Planets and stars littering your collarbone area. Stripes of random colors all over your palms as you mixed new colors. The most detailed pictures were always on your left arm though, that was where you practiced new drawings.

Occasionally you wrote a message but mostly you drew. Then one day you bought a book about charms to cast on drawings in Flourish and Blotts and you begged your dad every chance you got to cast them for you. After that at least a few pictures were always moving up and down your body.

When you got your very own wand at the age of eleven they were the first spells you practiced. By the end of your first year at Hogwarts you had mastered the whole book. Since then there was always a constant supply of different colored inks in your bag and pockets. The array of multicolored moving pictures that changed every day was your one connection to your soulmate.

They had yet to write back.

It had been ages since you first found your connection to your soulmate. You’d dealt with scars and bruises and occasional scribbled reminders but never once had you ever received even an acknowledgment of anybody seeing your drawings.

You tried not to let it bother you, you really did. But it seemed like every single person around you had known their soulmate for years, in one way or another. Some days the smile you wore wasn’t quite genuine, the longing you felt growing a little deeper at times, but never once did you fail to decorate your limbs with gentle reminders that you were there for your soulmate to find on themselves.

Not until that day. You were set to leave for school the next morning and your father had taken the week off of work to see you off. The two of you, your older brother, and your younger sister were probably too focused on the quidditch match you had going against each other in the backyard of your house. So much so that the bludger hit your way completely blindsided you.

The match ended with panicked shouts, a trip to St. Mungos, and your left arm wrapped tightly in cloth bandages as it rested in a sling while your bones healed.

It was only when you were sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express that the strangest thing happened. Words scrawled in letters that weren’t your own had appeared on your right arm.

Nothing new today?

As you stared at the writing with wide eyes, more words appeared underneath those.

I’m sure this is bending the rules but I had to know. Something’s wrong isn’t it?

Frantically you dumped out the contents of your bag, scattering them all over the floor of the compartment. You dug around the mess you had made until you found a self-inking quil. Just as you were about to write your response you caught sight of the bandages on your arm and gave a defeated sigh.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up and saw Luna, a friend of yours a couple years below you, watching you with an amused smile. The two of you would always sit up late in the common room together, swapping theories and stories about anything and everything.

“If you don’t mind,” You gave her a sheepish look and she only smiled before moving to sit next to you.

“What would you like me to write?” Luna asked as she took the quil out of your hand. You smiled and told her, watching as she took your arm and wrote out your words for you.

What makes you think something is wrong?

It was seconds later when you received your response.

Not once in the six years since I’ve been able to see your drawings have you let a day pass where you don’t add new ones. What’s wrong?

A smile graced your face and Luna was kind enough to help you continue the conversation happening on your arm.

I’m fine. Just a Quidditch injury. I’ll have the bandages removed by tonight, don’t worry.

Take your time. I don’t want you to hurt longer than you have to, love.

You were sure it was cheating, talking to your soulmate by writing messages on your arm. But if whatever soulmate forces were out there didn’t want you to talk to them then there shouldn’t have been such a simple loophole.

That’s what comforted you late that night, now gently scrawling messy words quickly on your arm that had been broken only the day before. Never before had you been more thankful for Skele-Gro.

Can I ask you something?

The print you wrote with was small on purpose, trying to keep as much room available as possible. It didn’t stop you, however, from doodling new little pictures on the back of your hand.

Go for it.

Why haven’t you ever said anything before? Why now?

You stared at the words you had written for a few moments before sighing and heading to the bathroom that was connected to your room. Only after staring at the words covering both arms now for a minute or two did you start washing away the ink you had put there.

For a minute you thought that you shouldn’t have asked. You stood in silence, watching as the remainder of the ink, the part written in your soulmates handwriting, was slowly washed away leaving only faint ink stains. Then to your relief a response came after it was all gone.

I was worried. And let’s just say I’m not as artistic as you are, my talents lie in other places.

For a second the writing stopped but then more words appeared, quicker than they had before.

Also I may have missed seeing you draw new pictures for me a little too much.

You beamed at the words and walked back to your bed. After the curtains were pulled around it you lit the end of your wand and picked up your quil again.

Do you like them? The pictures.

The response was almost immediate.

I love them.

***

“Miss Y/L/N.”

You jumped in your seat at the sound of a voice calling your name. Slowly you looked up from where you were taking notes on nonverbal spells. Professor Flitwick stood only a few feet away with an exasperated look on his face. Meanwhile both of the Weasley twins sat at their desk looking quite satisfied with whatever they had just done.

You’d been correct to assume they were behind whatever loud noise had been going on only minutes before. The desk the twins were sitting at was now charred and the other Gryffindors surrounding them were chatting excitedly about whatever it was you missed while your nose was buried in your charms book.

Neither Fred or George Weasley missed the fact that you were trying and failing to keep back an amused smile.

“You’ll be getting a new partner to do your project with,” Professor Flitwick lifted his wand and with a single flick a bag and a pile of unused textbooks was flying across the room and into the empty space next to you. “Mr. Weasley.”

Both boys stood at the same time wearing matching smirks and chorused, “Yes, Professor?”

You covered your mouth with your hand to stifle your laugh when Professor Flitwick sighed and shook his head upon realizing that he really should have seen that coming. “Mr. George Weasley. Come meet your new partner.”

Oddly enough said person didn’t look disappointed by the new assignment at all. Instead he grinned as he approached you, sliding into the chair beside you easily.

You could count the number of times you had spoken to George Weasley on one hand. The first time had been during potions when he’d asked to borrow some foxglove for a pompion potion. It wasn’t the potion you’d been assigned to brew but you hadn’t questioned it. The second time he’d walked up to you and your friends after a quidditch match to congratulate Ravenclaw on their victory against Slytherin despite the fact that none of you were on the team. And the third time was only a few weeks before when he asked to borrow a spare quil in transfiguration.

You doubted he remembered any of that though.

“So partner,” George leaned on the desk, head resting on one of his hands as he looked at you. “What do you know about,” He reached over to look at the piece of parchment you’d been taking your notes on. “Nonverbal spells? That’s our topic?”

“It is,” You nodded and reached for your notes, hoping he wouldn’t flip over the parchment to see the drawings you’d absentmindedly doodled during the lecture. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” George’s smile turned softer then as he stared at you, a fact which you noticed. You turned away quickly as you felt your face burn, hoping silently that it wasn’t too noticeable. “On the contrary. From what I hear you’ve already mastered a few nonverbal spells yourself Y/N, dearest.”

You froze then, not sure which revelation surprised you more. The fact that apparently you had developed a reputation without you knowing or the fact that George Weasley of all people knew your name.

You tried your hardest to fight the temptation to ask how he knew you and why.

“Class is almost over,” Your words came out rushed and a little too loud to sound natural. It wasn’t a complete lie. In just ten minutes you’d all be dismissed and that was hardly enough time to make even a small dent into your project. “We should meet sometime before our next class to get started if we want to have it done by the due date.”

“You’re so...ravenclaw,” George spoke after a few moments. When you looked at him again he was still giving you that same soft smile, a different sort of glint in his eyes than the one you were used to seeing every now and then.

For a second your thoughts drifted to the words scrawled on your right arm and the pictures on your left. They were covered up by the sleeves of your sweater as they usually were but you could picture the words you and your soulmate had written to each other earlier that day clearly.

“Is that a bad thing?” You found yourself asking, for some strange reason not being able to bring yourself to pull away from George’s gaze.

“No,” He shook his head gently almost immediately. “It’s perfect.”

***

You had to give credit where credit was due. When it came down to it, George Weasley could in fact step up to the plate.

Even now, an early Sunday morning the day after a trip to Hogsmeade, he sat right in front of you.

You knew for a fact he had been up late the previous night causing his usual mischief alongside his brother. One of the Ravenclaw prefects had been patrolling the halls and you overheard him complaining about having to send the twins back to their dorm for the fourth day in a row when he entered the common room.

It had made you smile.

You’d spent at least a couple hours each day alongside George for the past two and a half weeks. Some of that time had indeed been spent on your project but you found it easier to talk to him than you thought it would be. You couldn’t even begin to count the variety of tales he told you just to hear you laugh.

That, however, meant that the two of you had developed a tendency to avoid your work resulting in you being behind. The next day the two of you would have to present in front of the class. You had already gotten away with postponing the presentation twice.

The first time you had told Professor Flitwick that you needed more time to gather as much information as the topic deserved. The second time George had eaten one of the products he had told you he was working on, one he called a nosebleed nougat. It had worked like a charm and the moment you left the classroom with him he ate another candy and it stopped.

It was the only reason the two of you had woken up at that godforsaken hour of the morning on a Sunday. There was simply no other option now.

“I think all of our research is done and I can write up some notes for us to remember during the presentation,” You reached for another roll of parchment from your bag to do just that before dipping your quil in an inkwell filled with bright blue ink. “But we still need to practice some nonverbal spells for the practical demonstration. What do you think we should -”

It wasn’t until you looked away from the pile of books in front of you and at George that you realized he had dozed off. His head was resting on his arms which were crossed on the desk in front of him and he looked almost peaceful for once.

The corner of a piece of parchment was sticking out from under one of his arms and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself. Slowly you leaned forward until you could reach the parchment and you began to sketch a field of flowers on the paper in various ink colors.

You didn’t notice your own smile as you did so.

Then the end of your quil brushed across George’s face and he almost immediately bolted up in his seat. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes once more he looked over only to find you biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“You look suspicious,” George narrowed his eyes at you playfully when he saw the look on your face, still not noticing the addition to his parchment.

“Do I?” You smiled then as you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms in front of you.

“You do,” He leaned forward on the desk again and the grin you’d come to see on a regular basis returned. “May I ask why?”

“No reason at all. I’m just excited to learn some nonverbal spells is all,” You laughed as you stood from your seat, squinting a little at the late morning sun shining through the windows. “Speaking of, I’m gonna go search for some books a friend of mine recommended with some spells we could use.”

“Do we not have enough of those here?” George said as he glanced at the pile of no less than seven books, none of which he could remember anything about.

“Those are all on history and theory. We need something on practical application.”

“Right,” George let out a sigh as he reached for one of the unopened books. “You’re lucky I like you. I can’t remember the last time I did this much reading for a project.”

You hummed and then shook your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Don’t I feel honored.”

“Just get on with it,” George glanced up from the pages of the book he’d been flipping through and at you again, this time with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Faster we finish with this, the sooner we can sneak into the kitchens for a late breakfast.”

You were quick to agree. George watched as you disappeared behind one of the bookshelves. It was only when he was sure you were gone that he rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and reached for a quil, quickly scribbling a message to his soulmate on his right arm.

When he was done writing the message he caught sight of the flowers that you had drawn on the corner of his parchment and he grinned. Almost absentmindedly he started drawing flowers around your own, albeit a little simpler than the designs you had made. It took a minute for his eyes to widen, quil falling out of his hand, realizing that the flowers you had drawn on the paper he had already seen dozens of times before. In fact, a variation of them sat on his left arm now.

***

Finally four hours later you and George sat in the kitchens which you’d found surprisingly empty. Breakfast and lunch had come and gone and the two of you had gladly accepted a variety of foods from a couple of the house elves.

You were completely oblivious to the way George was studying you closely, trying as hard as he could to see if he was right.

“Puddlemere United,” He said when he caught sight of the patch sewn onto the jacket you were wearing. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“I sort of have to be,” You laughed a little when you saw the confused look flash on George’s face. “My dad is Puddlemere’s captain.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, promise,” You smiled as you shook your head. Without hesitation you pulled off your jacket, flipping it around so the back was visible, and pointed to a navy blue crest with the Puddlemere United logo and the word ‘captain’ across it in bold, golden letters. “Has been for a few years now and here’s your proof.”

But when you looked at George he wasn’t looking at the jacket at all. Instead he was staring at the variety of words and pictures covering your arms. You could see his eyes darting back and forth and quickly pulled your arm away and under the table.

“Wait,” He reached across the table and took your hand in his, slowly turning your arm around so he could see all every single stroke of ink. You could only watch as he gently traced the designs with his free hand.

The moment was soft, intimate in the purest way. You swore you could hear your own heart thumping louder each second that passed. It reached its peak when George placed your arm on the table in front of the two of you only to pull off the sweater he’d been wearing. It was then that the breath you were holding in left you.

Every single ink stain on your arms was perfectly reflected on his. Now that you looked closer you wondered how you hadn’t recognized his handwriting right away, you’d spent the last few months writing back and forth after all. You’d been so focused on the drawings and the writing that you hadn’t noticed what, or rather who was right in front of you.

“I knew it was you, you know.”

Your laugh was light when you finally dared to look at George once more. He was looking at you with pure and utter adoration and you were positive you wore the same expression. “Did you now?”

“I did,” George grinned as he took your hand again, more confident than he had previously been. “Remember our first year when I asked you for that foxglove? I was supposed to nick it from one of the shelves but you had your sleeves rolled up and I swore I saw the edge of the stars you had drawn earlier that day. I went to get a closer look but they were covered again.”

“And I suppose it was the same thing in transfiguration a month ago?” You shook your head with an amused smile as you thought back to the encounter. It all seemed so obvious now.

“It was. Same thing with the quidditch match a few years ago too,” He leaned forward as if what he were about to tell you were a secret. Suddenly it was like he couldn’t let you go, not that he’d ever want to now that he’d finally found you. “What made me almost certain though was the little drawing you left on my parchment earlier. I knew I’d seen those before.”

“Well I suppose it’s a good thing you’ve kept your eyes open unlike me apparently,” You were beaming as you glanced down at the matching pictures present on both of you. “What do we do now?”

“I’m glad you asked,” George immediately stood, pulling you up with him. He grabbed hold of your jacket still sitting on the table and started pulling you out of the kitchens. “Now that we’ve found each other we’re going to make up for lost time.”

“By doing what exactly?” You asked, eyebrows raised questioningly and a slight smirk on your face.

“Head out of the gutter, love,” George laughed as the two of you walked back up the stairs still hand in hand. He looked down at you with a wild grin on his face. “We’re going on our first date if you’re up for it.”

You agreed instantly and happily followed to wherever it was George would take you, just as you knew you always would from that moment on.

#the ending is eh but i love soulmates #hp fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter one shot #george weasley x reader #george weasley #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x y/n #soulmate au #george weasley fanfiction #c: george weasley #my stuff #my fics

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years ago

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hello! just curious, how do you plot out your stories? (for example, what have you done to plan out the wings au? do you have it all in your head? do you plan it out on paper or in a doc specifically for it? do you just go with the flow? sorry if this is a lot of questions lol i'm just trying to convey my point-)

hello, synonym!! lovely to see you again! I'd love to share my process!

as I explain my personal methods (again, personal, just how I do things!), I'll use the wings au as an example because i know you've read it and it'll just be easier over all. but essentially, yes to all of the above, just with different parts of the story!

my progression is: chaotic doc, background (as needed), basic written plot, expansion on the plot, any other details needed, and then just write things! but don't worry, I'll provide more detail, i say as if i'm capable of being concise

(putting below a readmore for simplicity)

chaotic doc: so, the very first thing I do when i have a story is open up a doc, and write down everything i know about it in little bullet points and rambling sentences, just basic information with no organization. the organizing can come later, right now I just want to get as much of what's in my head onto the paper as possible.

I type out the basic premise of the story or the few things I know about how I want it to go, the things I know I want to remember later, things I'd need to think about to set it up, etc. for the wings au, this was details like everyone's wings (things to remember later), how they got those wings and a sentence or two about what the world was like now (things I needed to think about to set it up), a little blurb about where the story would start. this is less writing details about the story, and more noting down the details I want to figure out later in the expansion. i find it works best to type this out because i'm a much faster typer than I am at physical writing, which allows me to follow the flow of my thoughts a lot better and go back and change things.

background: background prepares me for the next step, but the amount of effort I put into this section depends on how complex my story is. it basically means write down (we've moved to pencil and paper now, but this could be digital too if you prefer) anything you need to know in order to set up the rest of your story. what do you need to know in order to tell the story you need to and to get you where you want to be? for the wings au, the background was that the world had been overrun with monsters and everyone was living underground now. the neverseen had been defeated, or so they thought, coming back later. all these things that essentially prepared me to get to the plot. it told me where the story was happening and the emotional/physical environment everything else would happen under. if you have a more worldbuilding heavy world, this step might be a little more complex, or if there's something very specific with the characters you need as context beforehand.

sometimes the readers will be aware of pieces of the background, and it's even necessary for them to know--for example, you all knowing the elven world is in the middle of a monster apocalypse and living underground; if you didn't know, the rest of the story wouldn't make any sense. but there may be things you write down that are just for you to know, personal notes. for example, I have notes written about how the monsters came to be, more specifically, that you all haven't been made aware of and may never be. planning this out is for you, so if there's something you want to remind yourself to keep in mind while writing, this could be a good place. but now that we know the world we're writing in, we can move on

basic plot: for me, I struggle to figure out where to take a story, and if I don't have the basic concept laid out before I start writing, I ended up with really weird stories that completely deviate from what i wanted (I say this from experience). so I break it down into the bare essentials. literally as basic as I can be. there are five crucial parts of a plot: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution. just those five. for each of those, i write--writing, because it takes more time (allows me to think) and feels more organized to me, but you can do it differently--just the general idea I have for each section. just as few words as possible. detail comes later. for the wings au I literally wrote "they get wings" for rising action. having read the wings au, you know just how simplified that is.

one things that might help is consider how you would explain this idea to someone in one or two sentences. you just want to make sure you have a beginning, middle, end, and the transition between them. from there you've got the skeleton of your story, and everything else can fit itself into this idea.

expansion: now that you have the skeleton, it's time to fill in some of the more essential anatomy. this is where you add the specifics. for me, i write this physically in bullet points in a journal of some kind. I take the first section, and write down how the story is going to start. where am I going to begin this journey. for the wings au I wrote "beginning: sneaking into breeding facility to destroy monsters. problem: caught/monster breaks loose." if you remember this is essentially the events of the first chapter but in two sentences. I'm giving enough detail that I know what I'm going to write, but not so much it's going to be stifling to follow my exact notes when I actually get to writing. this will be different for different people, so you may want more or less detail than I provided, I'm just giving an example of how I did it.

I continue this for the rest of the plot, but that doesn't mean every single little detail that will ever happen is planned out. I'm not patient enough to be super thorough with every little thing, so I go long enough until I have a solid understanding of what I'm going to start with when I'm writing, or just until I'm bored and can't deal with planning anymore. for me, that meant I was more detailed when planning from the mission in the facility to them getting to the abandoned gnomish village, as those would be some of the first things I would be writing about. after that, I got more vague and just touched on some of the key part of each of those five sections. I take those two/three words and turn them into two/three bullet points. I also didn't want to be too specific with the later details, because I knew i'd be influenced by things as I wrote and would be inspired to fill that out.

any other details: this is kind of any afterthoughts you might have or details you need to keep i mind that aren't necessarily plot. you may have a lot of these, or you may have none. for me, this was where I wrote down what kinds of wings and other animalistic traits each of the characters had (yes, I wrote them down again). it's not strictly plot, but it does affect the rest of the story. this is also where I write anything I forgot to when going through the first time, and then i can draw a little arrow pointing towards where it fits in to the rest of the story or is relevant (which is part of why I like the writing aspect, but this is entirely achievable on a doc). another example from the au is me writing "domestic" to the side and pointing it back to my notes about the gnomish village, because while it wasn't essential to moving the plot forward, i wanted to touch on some aspects of domestic live with the ten of them while they were there.

just write things: now that you have all this planning done (good job, you!) you can get into the writing aspect. you've already decided your beginning and know where you want to go, so this is the part where you just starting putting words on the page. it can be pretty daunting to just look at a blank page, so if you'd like, start a paragraph in. skip the first paragraph and just start in the middle of something else--you can add back what's missing later. I personally note things that I want to come back to inside [brackets like this], and that can be words, sentences, entire paragraphs. i use the square ones specifically because I don't use them in my writing unlike (these parentheses), and then I can search the document for them all at once and see all the places I need to go back.

this is also where the "just in my head" and "make it up as I go" part comes into place. you have a pretty good idea of what you're doing, but you're going to have ideas as you write, so sometimes you just follow the flow of your brain and write things you could've never even planned for. and if you're interacting with others as you're going (like I'm talking about theories with you all while writing future chapters) then you may be inspired by them to add things to the story. originally, I wasn't going to even have any messages from Bronte or Oralie, but now because I saw what some of the people reading it were picking up on, I realized the potential there and added them in on a whim

and sometimes when you get stuck, the best way to get yourself out of that is to just add something random, which can spiral off and affect the rest of the story. I've said it before, but the dragons were not planned. I'd actually seen a piece of writing advice months ago that if you're stuck, change the weather. so I was stuck and made a sudden rainstorm, but then I needed an explanation as to how things got so wet so fast because I'd mentioned clear skies earlier. so in my attempt to explain it, dragons came to exist. writing is a process, so don't limit yourself to everything you've written. you'll be inspired along the way, so try to take it in stride.

one final note: as much as you plan, this is not going to be a definite map for how the story will go. maybe something makes sense as you're planning it out, but when you get to actually writing it makes no sense as all and you need to change things. that's fine! this kind of a plan is just to get you prepared and keep you afloat amongst this ocean of words trapped in your head that you want to transcribe. if something isn't working, change it! in my original written plan for the wings au they weren't going to run away for a few weeks, instead sneaking out for an hour or two at a time over those few weeks because they couldn't stand being underground anymore, until Linh was actually the first one to make contact with a creature and realize it didn't immediately want to kill her. but because she's not the narrator of this story, I couldn't write it the way i wanted, so I gave that to sophie in the tree.

this is just my approach to my more complicated stories! for some of the really quick ones, I just open a doc and start going. this kind of thinking keeps me organized so that I'm doing the idea the most justice. but just because it works for me doesn't mean it'll work for everyone. if it does work for you, great! but if there are parts you need to modify for yourself, you are more than encouraged to do so. personally, if I could only chose one part of this process to rely on, it would be the basic plot. that's the key to everything for me, but for others it might be something different.

I hope this helps with whatever it is you're writing!! I wish you luck and look forward to seeing whatever it is (should you chose to share it, no pressure)!! if you'd like more of my process on how I write it consistently and update on a schedule, I'd be more than happy to talk about that too!

#all of this took up about three pages in a 4.25 by 8.25 dotted journal #but I have very small handwriting so keep that in mind #also you might just be more/less detailed then i am!#this is just the framework I use #so use it if it helps!#this is also usually spread out over multiple days so I can think about the idea in between #and also because i don't want to do this much work all at once #I get distracted #but i did have a very specific approach when writing the wings au #so I'm very excited to get to talk about it!#i have written several other stories without planning and they always end up veering off into random things #like 'what happened. to the original plot. of the movie??' vibes #ah seli (an oc whose name I might change yet again)...I did you so dirty...#kotlc wings au #writing #writing advice #story planning #quil's queries #synonymroll648 #writing tips

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rocketink · 4 years ago

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LOST AND FOUND

In which you lose your stuff all the time but your first-floor neighbour somehow always has it for you. Or, in a soulmate world, your soulmate finds everything you loses and reverse.

pairing: minghao x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, crack + neighbor & soulmate! Au

wc: 2.2k+

warnings: none I think (this type of soulamte thingy is kinda crazy tho). Btw this is my first au so I’m sorry fpr any mistakes!! + English is not my first language so apologies :)

notes: I migh turn this into a series since I’ve thought about some details here and there as I wrote this au?? What do you think??

The situation inside your apartment has turned unbearable, and you know should have moved with Joshua when you had the chance. He wasn't the closest of your friends, but you're sure it would have been more comfortable with him rather than third-wheeling your roommates.

Now, you don't hate Mingyu and your best friend, you just think they are disgustingly cute. You feel very happy since you've seen them pining after each other for a while now (all the furtive glances they sent to each other when they thought nobody was looking was like being inside a rom-com movie and it was hilarious at first. It eventually became too much to handle). You've never seen two more oblivious people inside a room, it was exasperating. Things began to turn serious when they discovered they were each other's soulmates and they've been seriously dating ever since.

It's great, really, but why do you have to see each of their displays of affection? Or, should we say, why doesn't the time to find your soulmate finally get to you?

Because you know, deep down inside you, that the problem is not that they have a soulmate. The problem is that you don't find it.

"Good morning, love." Mingyu greets your friend with his deep morning voice, and gives them a kiss on their temple. "Good morning, Y/n." He gives you a tiny hug and you growl.

"It's too early for being cute don't you think?" You ask joking-not-so-joking.

"Feeling grumpy at eight in the morning? Woah, breaking your own record." You laugh at what your friend says and they laugh too. You don't mind being like this, just why does it have to get so awkward sometimes?

"Guys another disgrace has happened." You announce solemnly. "I have lost my jacket"

"Again?" Mingyu judges.

"But didn't you wash it yesterday? It must be hanged with the rest of the clothes."

"I checked when I woke up because it's cold and it wasn't there."

"It was pretty windy last night, maybe it fell?" Your friend suggests and they grin. "Maybe Minghao will bring it back to you later?"

Ah, here we have the other reason why you want to move to a lost town somewhere in Australia: Xu Minghao, your first-floor neighbor, the one that has an apartment to envy because of his small, well-decorated courtyard. You don't envy that, though, because your clothesline is right on top of his courtyard, and sometimes he has to bring you all the clothing items that fall into his yard. You don't know how all that ends up there, you've tried everything: from securing your clothes with more pins to tying it to the clothesline. But none of that ever works, and he always goes all up to the third floor -where you live- to give it back to you with a smile and a 'see you soon'. How does he know it's your clothes? You made sure to tell him the first time this happened.

Just like your friend predicted, that afternoon Xu Minghao knocked at your door.

"Hello." He greets with a friendly smile and your heart melts.

He's too adorable to handle.

"Hi, Minghao. Don't bother I think I know why you're here." You joke at your own clumsiness and he laughs with you too.

"You must have been cold without it." He seems worried and you shake your head.

"Don't worry, two layers of blankets made up for it."

He puts his hands into his pockets and smiles shyly and you feel your heart bursting off. When he leaves, you notice your jacket smells like him.

Ah, how you wished Minghao was your soulmate.

Things get more complicated when the finals approach. You can barely stand even after drinking your daily coffee and you spend day after day coming and going from home to the library. You are so focused and stressed that you barely pay attention to anything else, and you've lost from pens to your entire case. All of them safely brought back home by Minghao. You do not know how or when you threw your case through the window for it to end up at Minghao's yard, but he always brings some hot chocolate and a small talk with him, so you do not complain.

After all, you don't even remember how you wake up every morning by the end of the day. You end up thinking you need to control yourself a little more during finals.

One day it gets out of hand. You've probably had the worst of the days. You woke up late because you didn't hear the alarm clock, your roommates being all lovey-dovey already got you on your nerves, your exam was harder than you expected and you had a bad feeling about your answers. Then, when you finally got home, late and tired, your keys were nowhere to be found. You could feel your eyes getting watery and you knocked at the door. Nobody answers, your friend and Mingyu are celebrating their anniversary and you don't want to bother them even if all you want is a hot shower and watching a romantic without friends to cuddle. You immediately think of Minghao, would it be too much if you asked him to spend some time with you? You answer to yourself that yes, it would be too much, there's no need to bother anyone else. So what do you do now?

"Y/n?" Somebody asks behind you.

"Minghao?" And there you have it, just the one you were thinking of.

"Hi, uhm, are you okay?" You want to cry to that question, but you manage to hold back your tears.

"I'm fine I just- I must have lost my keys because I can't find them and there's no one home and I just want to sleep." You explain briefly.

"Are these your keys?" He holds something in his left hand that looks like your keyring -a framed pink paper with your name on it and a little olaf your sister once bought you-

"How did you find it?"

"I didn't, it appeared in my yard". He is as confused as you are.

"But... I remember I put it inside the pocket of my bag." You explain. "When I arrived it was opened so I just supposed they fell out. And there's no way they fell into your yard because they are always inside my bag, I never threw them... Why would anyone throw a keyring through my window? I-" You try to explain without taking a breath so that Minghao doesn't think you're a weirdo, but now you can't fight back your tears and Minghao looks worried.

"It's okay Y/n, don't worry, I understand. Well, I don't, but I know you didn't do it. Hold on let's get inside I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie, okay?"

You nod without thinking, just wanting to be lulled into some peace. He makes you some hot choco as promised and makes some small talk while choosing a movie to watch.

"So where are your roommates?" He asks.

"Celebrating their anniversary."

"Wait, are they dating?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No? I'm so shocked what the hell." You laugh at his astonished face. "But are they...?"

"Soulmates? Yes, they are."

"Woah, lucky."

"I know right." You don't want this topic to surface but you can't help but ask. "Have you met your soulmate?"

"I haven't." After a few seconds, he adds, "have you?"

"No, not a single clue of who they are. I don't have a timer or a tattoo, or see them in my dreams... I'm getting tired of waiting. Overall watching the two lovebirds every day of my life."

"It is the same thing for me. I'd love to meet them or just to know how they are. I know I'm young and all that but I'm just very curious and almost all my friends have met them while I still don’t know how to find them. I feel left out."

You nod, relating to that feeling.

"By the way, if it gets tiring, why don't you just move out?"

"I don't know where to move to be honest. I don't know if I want to go through the 'look for a new apartment' process again, it's too tiring. Besides, I still have fun with them, they're not to blame for my loneliness."

Minghao laughs and looks away.

"Just so you know, I'm moving out next month. I found another apartment for a better price and I'm going to leave the one I have now. If it gets too unbearable, you can just take my place." And you are too focused on yourself to notice the sad look on his face.

Because Minghao and your little encounters made your whole living in a student's apartment life better, and you don't want him to go away. But you are just a neighbor in Minghao's life, so who are you to tell him that?

Minghao moves the following month just as promised, and you can't remove the moping face you wear.

"Why are you so sad Y/n? I've seen the new neighbor, he is as hot as Minghao." Your friend winks and you roll your eyes.

"I don't care. If he doesn't pick up my stuff then I don't want him."

"I've heard he is all the time arguing with their other roommate. Maybe they leave sooner than expected and Minghao comes back!"

"Don't be mean, Gyu!" You nag and he shrugs.

Somebody's knocking at the door distracts you from your conversation and both of your friends turn to look at you.

"Why do I always have to get the door? There's no Minghao now, I don't want it."

"Maybe is your new blue prince"

"Shut up, Mingyu."

But when you open the door to a frowning Minghao, your heart backflips.

"What are you doing here Hao? Is everything okay?"

"I am a little concerned." He shows you a small necklace you recognize immediately. "What was this doing in my house?"

"I lost it last week at university! I didn't know where it went." You try to answer.

"To my room?"

"Look, I also don't know what was my necklace doing in your house in which I've never stepped a foot in because is like five kilometers away ... Oh my god Hao did you walk here?"

"I took the bus." He looks down and then right at you. "The last time I saw you you were wearing it. I've been thinking for a week how did this get there since I haven't seen you in a month, I never took it and I know for sure you are not a stalker who would leave their necklace inside my room when nobody’s looking."

"Have you reached any conclusion?"

"Absolutely none. Then I talked to Jun and he said some of the romantic trash he usually thinks of, but this made me think."

"What did he say?" You don't know what direction this conversation is taking.

"He's a soulmate expert you know? He told me that maybe it’s because destiny wants us to meet again and I thought that couldn't be because oh god, what have I done to deserve you? Then I decided to make a little experiment and I'm really nervous because if this doesn't work out I might have lost the most important thing to me. Do you mind checking your room?"

You feel everything inside you revolving because of every single one of his words, but still, you do as he requests. You check your room, ignoring the question marks over your roommate's heads, and find nothing different. Except for a new notebook on top of your nightstand you hadn't noticed. It's a sketchbook, and all of the drawings on the inside are signed with Minghao's name.

"Is this yours?" He sighs in relief when he recognizes the sketchbook.

"This is a part of my life, you know?"

"Then how did you lose this?"

"I told June to leave it somewhere I didn't know so that I couldn't even look for it. I wasn't sure if it was going to work."

"I can't believe the universe does works like this."

"Me neither, but I'm glad it did."

"So, you said this friend of yours is an expert in soulmates?" You don't want to ask it directly, but you want to know if he's implying that you two are soulmates.

"Yes, I used the s word." You both laugh.

"Does this mean that you and I... You know."

"Jun told me this type of soulmate is rare, but it has happened under easier circumstances. All I know is that I keep finding you every time and I don't know if I ever want to stop finding you."

"OH COME ON JUST KISS ALREADY." You hear Mingyu shouting from the kitchen. "Babe, now I know how Y/n felt with us."

You want to laugh at Mingyu and tell him 'Ha, suffer you loser', but Minghao has other plans.

When he kisses you everything just seems simple and suddenly everything is fine, and you don't want to stop doing it. It's warm, it feels as if you had lost and found the most important thing in your life.

"Hold on then why did I never find anything yours?"

"Y/n, you break the kiss just to ask this?" You blush and he sighs. "I'm a very organized person, unlike others, so I barely lose things, happy now?"

"No. Does this mean that if I get lost in a crowd would you magically find me? You know, since I got lost."

"I don't know Y/n, and I don't want to find out. Now come here, I want to cuddle."

"Oh, yes. Finally."

#seventeen #minghao #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #seventeen fluff #the8 imagines #minghao fluff #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #seventeen au #minghao au #seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen fanfic #minghao fanfic #seventeen oneshot #minghao oneshot #seventeen drabble #minghao drabble

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physicalturian · 4 years ago

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 2

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5016 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Flirting … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

-- Part 1 -

The heat of two bodies against one another. Skin upon skin, fingers grazing tenderly. Hands gripping suddenly, forcefully yet securely. I am holding onto dear life on his broad shoulders. My nails digging inside the skin. It makes him grunt in pleasure. I can’t hear it over my own sound of pleasure. My head lolls back, my neck is being attacked. Bites, kisses and words against it. My entire body is aflame. I’m now holding onto the bed head. I’m not surrounded by darkness anymore.

The landscape has changed, I’m not on my bed. It’s a hospital bed. No one is around, someone is on top of me, I can’t see their face. But it feels good. Hot breath against my skin, soft hands on my hips. The increasing pressure inside-

“Hey wake up! If you want to ride with me to campus, you better get your ass out of bed.” I was startled awake by one of my roommates who seemed on edge. From what my brain understood, I was late and from the look on her face, she was pissed.

Squinting my eyes at the sudden light from her brusque action of opening the curtains, I groaned. Her heels hitting the floor made my ears ring, it was too much too quickly but I wasn’t going to say anything. The ginger girl was stopped dead in her track by a hand on her shoulder, a softer voice spoke, “Come on Nami, look at her. Clearly, she went to sleep late again, give her some time to clear her head.” Robin said a lot calmer. With a small smile, she gave me a nod and pushed Nami out of the room.

“You have ten minutes at best, hurry up. She has plans today.”

“And I am hungry, could you make me a sandwich while I get dressed Robin?” I asked with the softest pleading eyes I could manage at this hour. She smiled knowingly in return and nodded, but did not leave until she added, “It’s the last time you leave crumbs on the counter from your midnight snacks.”

With wide eyes, I grimaced and nodded. It made her chuckle as she closed the door behind herself and left without a word.

The moment I was left alone, I remembered the dream I was having and hurriedly got out of bed. “Nasty brain, naughty.” I mumbled while undressing. Sure, erotic dreams weren’t bad, but the fact that I had dreamt about that stranger was something entirely new. Maybe it was to be expected if we interacted more like we did last night, if we had more sessions like last night’s one. Damn, am I that needy for a good fuck? Is this what I’ve become? I thought with a huff.

Once I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and all that I needed for class before leaving the room. On my way out I saw the notification that had popped on my screen, a message from the doctor but it was one from last night.

HandSurgeon: I’ll allow you to call me doc, just because my username is not very adequate when shortened. But watch it.

Looking at it I laughed and wrote back, albeit later than when he had sent his message.

Edelweiss: Good morning to you too, doc. Hope you were able to catch some z’s, because of you I almost missed my class.

Edelweiss: kidding, it’s entire my fault but I want to blame it on you for the fun.

I shoved my phone in my pocket when I heard my two friends’ voices, telling me I needed to hurry and hurry I did. I grabbed the sandwich Robin handed me and thanked her with all my heart, telling her I’d make the food tonight but she told me she’d rather not die of food poisoning at a young age.

“Come on, I can make some things! We’ll order in, then?” I said, leaning on the counter with a grin as I took a bite of the food.

“Careful, Nami has invited her best friend tonight. He’s constantly famished, and eats a large amount of food so I’ll take you up on that offer another day. Now off you go, Nami’s waiting in her car.”

Giving her a thumbs up I leaned off the counter and pondered, “So Nami’s cooking tonight? I see why she’s stressed out now. Anyone else coming by?” I asked quickly. Robin chuckled elegantly, her back leaning against the counter, in front of me, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He might bring one of his friends, but it all depends on his schedule. Nothing definitive yes. Now off you go!” She shooed me, smiling. Most of her classes were in the evening, and yet she woke up that early every day.

It was also fascinating how, even when in her pajamas she looked so dignified.

Without losing any more time, I waved her goodbye and rushed down all the flight of stairs to jump into Nami’s car. “Good morning-“ I closed my mouth when she gestured for me to shut up, pointing at her ear and at the board. Looking at the screen, she was on a call with someone but started the car without another word. I could only hear her replies, but tried not to eavesdrop. To stop myself from falling asleep, I took my phone once more and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

I hated how it sent excitement coursing through my body. Was I remembering the thrill of last night or was I that interested in talking to him? I did not ponder the question longer and opened the app.

HandSurgeon: Good morning Edelweiss. Are you feeling good? Physically.

HandSurgeon: We’ve barely done anything. But don’t worry, you’ll blame me later when we’ll have more fun.

Edelweiss: I’m great, a bit sore but that’s on me.

Edelweiss: don’t threaten me with a good time 😩, you can’t start the horny talk this early in the morning. How do you expect me to focus during my classes?

HandSurgeon: Haha, I’ll stop. Do you have time to talk?

Edelweiss: ominous much? But yes, I do have time to talk. Something on your mind?

A knot formed in my stomach, I started to worry he’d say we couldn’t keep doing this. Would it be that bad? We’d known each other for so little time, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else to fuck.

I huffed at my own thought, I could find someone else but did they have HandSurgeon’s charisma? Unfortunately, no, I was bound to be horny for a strong doctor that I did not even know the face of.

HandSurgeon: I got a bit too excited last night, I forgot to mention the most important info.

HandSurgeon: Those being: we can stop whenever you’d like. We can try whatever you feel comfortable trying. If you said you were ready to do something, but in the end feel like you can’t do it: tell me. You can change your mind, it works the other way around, too. You can say you want to try something even though you were against it at first.

HandSurgeon: I won’t always be up to… play but I will be willing to help you if you ask nicely. And if I’m awake.

HandSurgeon: Finally, always call me sir, during our sessions.

I hid the relief I fell in real life, when I read all his messages. I did not want Nami to ask me what was wrong, nor who I was texting, but it was hard to hide the satisfied smile on my lips. Pursing my lips, I thought of what to answer without looking too desperate.

Even with the thought put into it, I read my message over a few times and desperation dripped out of it.

Edelweiss: you scared me, I thought you were going to just disappear or something. I’m good with all of this. If I can add one, be honest with me? Like, uh…

Edelweiss: If I’m being too pushy, but you’re busy, tell me, I’ll calm down haha.

Edelweiss: So… I agree to the terms, sir.

I saw him type, then stop. Then type again, before stopping again. Had I said something bad? I was going to put my phone away when he replied.

HandSurgeon: Good girl.

HandSurgeon: Now, I won’t be able to play tonight, but I’ll be free to text if you’d like.

HandSurgeon: It’ll give you time to rest, that way we’ll fuck you good once you’re feeling better.

I choked on my saliva. Why was he this casual saying things like this?

Edelweiss: I-

Edelweiss: I said don’t get me horny, the audacity you have to be that good with your words.

Edelweiss: I’ll be busy tonight too, but I’ll text you if it gets a bit boring.

Edelweiss: Also, are you not like… cutting people open or something? Why would you be awake this early with how late you went to sleep?

HandSurgeon: It’s cute how easy it is to get you flustered. Very interesting too. But I’ll stop for now.

HandSurgeon: Since you’re curious, I’m in bed. I have to meet with my intern in an hour, he’s very eager to learn.

HandSurgeon: Just like you, but maybe I find one more satisfying than the other 😉

Staring at the screen, I hesitated and felt my cheeks heat up. I wanted to be horny and ask him for a picture, or be funny and ask him for a picture. Both could work together, but should I flirt or ask in the most stupid way possible? I was curious if he’d be willing to send anything, I’m sure it’d make my day if he did send me a picture but I did not want him to force him either. You can’t force a dom to do shit, idiot, my common sense told me.

Edelweiss: send pic or fake.

HandSurgeon: Of my intern?

Good fucking lord, I’m an idiot. I typed back quickly, trying to fix my stupidity.

Edelweiss: of you in bed.

Edelweiss: maybe I’m asking for a nude? 🤔

HandSurgeon: Are you, now? What sparked that need? Do tell me. I’ll consider.

Edelweiss: I’m curious, and I wonder if you sleep dressed or not 😳

Hit and run. That’s all I could call what I had done. I dropped that message then locked my screen and stared straight ahead, regretting sending it. I couldn’t delete it since he had probably seen in, considering we were both online at the same time. We were both staring at the conversation, craving for more, awaiting the other’s reply to weight our own answer in return.

Covering my mouth with my hand, I rested my elbow on the small space by the window and felt my heart beat faster. I shouldn’t feel like that, I had literally fucked myself to his guidance hours ago. And yet, there was this stressed from asking him nudes. I mean, I hadn’t asked a dick pic per say… If he slept in pajamas it clearly wouldn’t be a nude, so…

My phone vibrated in my hand, I looked down so quickly my head slipped off my hand and hit the window with a thud. “Are you good? You look nervous, do you have a final today or…” I heard Nami ask. She threw me a side glance but kept her gaze focused on the road.

I was so focused on my own conversation; I had not realized she was done with her call. Had she been watching all of my reaction since then? No… no, probably not.

“I’m good, just need a bit of sugar.” I paused and continued casually, “Robin told me Luffy’s inviting someone tonight? Are you cooking or are you planning on ordering? They better pay their own shit, if we order in.” I grumbled, hoping to make her drop the subject.

I needed to stay focus on what she was saying but my brain was drifting to the pending message on Discord. Fortunately, my distraction worked and she replied, “If he’s coming, I’ll make him pay the entire orders.” She scoffed as she pulled up into the parking, her eyes still focused in front of her. “He owes me, and since it’s last minute, I’ll use that against him to not pay my food.” She added. I laughed at her logic, was it really last minute if she knew he was coming since this morning? Shaking my head, I unlocked my phone and opened the text.

HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

While I masked my reaction, my eyes sure widened for the span of a second. On that very screen was a picture of the doctor, or more precisely, his crotch covered with just a thin blanket covering it. I could see the shape of his cock, and it made it more sinful than a full dick pic. The v shape of his lower stomach, along with the happy trail, made the whole thing hotter than it was supposed to be. Is this for fucking real? Thinking for a second it might be a catfish, I finally looked at the rest of the pic and saw a badly torn piece of paper with the word ‘Edelweiss’ scribbled badly on it.

“Damn, who’s is this? Girl, you tapping that?” I quickly turned my phone face down and looked at Nami with what probably looked like guilt. “What? No. I’m on Twitter. I don’t have time to literally fuck around, too busy.” I stated, putting my hand on the door handle as I took hold of my bag.

She was about to say something else, but we spoke at the same time and she let me talk. “What time do you finish? I’ll be done around 5 pm if you’re still there.” I stepped outside the car and slammed it shut, waiting for my ginger friend to join me.

“Around that time too, we’ll head right back home after. I think Luffy and his annoying friend will already be there. I’ll sent you the menu, so that you can pick from it.” She then hurried off when she saw one of her classmates waving her over.

I let out a sigh and looked back at my phone, typing back while marching towards my class.

Edelweiss: Are you kidding me? Dude…

HandSurgeon: I’d prefer you call me doc than dude. Although sir is the most appealing… But what’s wrong?

Edelweiss: You’re telling me, someone that hot is on weird websites when I’m sure anyone would want to fuck you. No offense, but you’re probably very hot, so why are you like… domming online? Instead of your own pretty little sub in real life? Not that I’m complaining! I like it.

HandSurgeon: Schedule is shit. And I’ve been told I’m bitter. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it, I’ll get dressed now. You focus on your class.

Edelweiss: Oh I am definitely enjoying it, a lot.

Edelweiss: by the way, I came to a realization this morning…

Then we sent a message at the same time, I laughed nervously.

HandSurgeon: So you think of me when you sleep? Very cute.

Edelweiss: my brain was slow last night, but like. Did you sext me while in your office?

Edelweiss: maybe I did think of you in my sleep, but I don’t think we need to talk about that, my question is definitely more important.

I almost tripped over nothing, from looking at my phone instead of the path but I managed to make my way to class without a hitch. Throwing my bag over the desk, I sat down and waited for my professor. Checking Discord once more,

HandSurgeon: I did. It’ll happen a lot too.

Edelweiss: damn that means no sexy live for you

I replied without thinking. The loudest sigh escaped my lips, what even did I mean by that? Was I really considering giving him a show? What was I expecting from telling him that? I mean sure, if time goes on and I get more comfortable it could be fun…

HandSurgeon: If that day comes, I’ll be sure to get my earphones. I’m sure you’d actually enjoy the thrill of showing yourself off. Knowing full well I’m watching, maybe with a hand in my pants, ordering you around. There will be a “sexy live”, if you’re comfortable enough… The fact that I’m in my office only adds to the charm. Wouldn’t you say?

I blinked a few times, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed something then deleted it. I paused and typed again, before deleting it once more. Was he wrong? It was very exciting, just thinking about it. Even more so knowing he was willing to be in that situation, at his desk, looking at me getting off under his command. But also, even more knowing he’d be at his work place, where anyone could walk in on him being in such an embarrassing situation.

HandSurgeon: It looks like you’re speechless. But do answer me, would you get off on knowing someone could walk in? Knowing we could get caught, knowing they could see you fucking yourself on screen just for me. Just to please me. They wouldn’t know it’s you, but you’d know. My good girl fucking herself, showing off her perfectly fuckable body just for me.

I let my head fall back against the seat and took a deep breath. I felt suddenly self-conscious, even though I knew no one knew what was going on, on my screen. And yet, I had to look around to make sure before typing with a lot of hesitance. He hit the spot, I hated how right he was. But I replied in all honesty.

Edelweiss: …

Edelweiss: yes…

Edelweiss: I’d like that…. sir…

Edelweiss: I need to focus on my class, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able since you just went off and made me very much distracted now.

HandSurgeon: My hand slipped.

Edelweiss: the a u d a c i t y, then do tell me where it’ll slip next time 😉

Edelweiss: ok, no. that was bad. I’m trying, I’m not as good as you okay?

HandSurgeon: I think it’s a conversation best kept for late hours, wouldn’t you say?

HandSurgeon: I have to go. Focus on your class, or think of where you’d like my hands to go. The choice is yours, Edelweiss.

HandSurgeon: [send an attachment]

There it was, another picture of him. This time it was his gloved hand gripping the fabric around his thigh tightly, the sleeve of his long shirt was slightly risen. I could catch a glimpse of the hair on his arm but focused on the length of his slender fingers. Of the way his fingertips were digging in his pants, of the lines his muscles drew on the back of his hand and maybe of, once again, the fact that he was sitting at his desk. Instead of replying, I took it in and locked my screen to try and focus on the class.

I never thought I’d have a medical kink, but my thought would sometimes drift off, imagining him in his full surgeon outfit. Sitting on his chair, legs spread open while looking at me with a smirk. What it’d look like, I do not know, but I could only imagine the sultry gaze he could give me while in that position. He’d pat his thigh for me to come over and let me ride it- Shaking the thoughts away, I told myself to focus, and tried my best to keep up to that promise.

The rest of the day, I kept my hands off my phone the best I could. I wanted to keep texting HandSurgeon and have some fun, tease him the way he was teasing me but I did not know how to push his buttons. Suddenly I realized I had never asked what were his kinks. By default, being in control must have been one of them, but I was curious as of what else he enjoyed. I made a mental note to ask him next time we talked, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, it all depended on tonight’s fun.

Right, tonight… I don’t even know who’s the guy that’s coming over. Nami said that Luffy’s friend was annoying but maybe she was a bit biased since she was easily frustrated, which was ironic considering her best friend was the most tiring person ever. At some point during the day, she sent me a text with the name of the restaurant we were ordering at and told me to pick whatever I wanted.

Seeing the prices, I had to make sure she had sent me the right restaurant and sent her a text asking if it was alright. Her reply was, “I told you he owed me, he said to choose whatever restaurant I wanted. And I did. He has the money, might as well use it.”

I winced at her words and sent her my choice with a lot of reticence, adding, “If I get yelled that for picking something, even though I don’t know the guy, you’ll pay for my food.” She was quick to reply and told me it’ll be okay. “The dude might bitch and moan about it but he’ll eventually accept it” were her words. I don’t really know if it had helped or worsened my anxiety but I just let her do her thing and went on with the rest of my day without a hitch.

I was able to focus on my classes and assignments after a while, when my brain finally decided to shove the whole HandSurgeon conversation in the back of my head.

The day came to an end right on time. I had done my fair share of thinking for the day and needed a break. Knowing a nice warm meal was waiting for me at my apartment only made things ten times better. I rushed out of my last class with haste, almost bumping into other people and dropping my phone but I caught it before anything dramatic could happen.

When I stepped outside, I was met with a drizzle and had to walk faster to Nami’s car. I was lucky to see she was already there, waiting inside of it with music playing loudly. She was trying to fix her hair the best she could, and gave up when it looked half-decent. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I opened the car door and slipped inside, greeting her, out of breath.

“You scared me!” She gasped, a hand on her chest.

“Is it my fault? You’re on edge, not me.” I huffed, throwing my bag in the back of the car, making the ginger groan when she received a few droplets on her clothes. Apologizing, I buckled my seatbelt and we drove back home in a good mood. Food always lifted spirits, even more so after a draining day. On our way home, Nami started renting on how I will have to keep Luffy’s friend away from her because she couldn’t handle his attitude.

I did not dare ask her what happened but listened carefully. She did not give me any useful information about him, only telling me he was “arrogant, annoying, he’s bitchy and way too cocky because of his job.” I winced and was expecting the worst, probably a business man that was too proud of making money or a politician. No, no… Luffy would never befriend people like that, right?

All kind of ideas simmered in my head until we reached our apartment. I don’t know why, but I was going to knock. I quickly caught myself and unlocked the door, hanging my coat in the entrance as I took off my shoes. “Robin? Have they arrived yet-“ I was cut off when the excited black-haired man came rushing in and wrapped his arms around both Nami and I. She laughed and hugged him back, while I pushed him away, smiling softly. “Hello Luffy, let me get changed first? I smell like a wet dog.” I scoffed.

He agreed and pulled Nami to the side, bringing her to the living room. I did not look their way and instead went back to my room to get changed. Maybe I could catch him before he went to his evening activity? I kind of wanted to have a bit of fun before going back to eat… But then again, did I have time? Humming pensively, I locked my door and stripped naked then pulled out my phone.

Edelweiss: Good evening, can I suggest something? I want to make my evening more fun… maybe have something to look forward to this evening…

I waited a moment, sitting on my desk chair completely naked. It was frisky and I felt well… naked. Was it too bold? Should I just delete the message and get dressed? I did not have time to ponder longer that the little dot next to his name turned green. He had answered.

HandSurgeon: What do you suggest? I’m all ears.

Edelweiss: let’s say… I wanted to keep something inside me the entire evening… like an egg, you know those vibrating egg but like, not turned on because that’d be too much.

Edelweiss: here, this:

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

I made sure we could see my lower body, the hand holding the toy was right above my thighs and I angled it so he could see most of it. When I sent the picture, I felt the pressure in my stomach grow, maybe he’d refuse and I was getting excited over nothing.

HandSurgeon: I won’t be able to guide you, gorgeous.

HandSurgeon: But… I think it’s a great idea. Although, I need to be sure you’re not too sore to have some fun tonight.

Edelweiss: I’m good, I’m great. Don’t worry, I can definitely handle this. I mean, if you want to, sir.

HandSurgeon: The eagerness ever so present, you’re being very good asking for it. I would hate to punish you.

HandSurgeon: Let’s do it, if you think you can’t take it anymore send me a message and take it out.

HandSurgeon: But I’m sure a good girl like you could take it entire night, wouldn’t you agree?

My answer was to send him a picture of the toy inside me, my free hand gripping my thigh while spreading them wider.

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

HandSurgeon: Fuck. A warning next time. I’m not against more pictures, but let me remind you I’m not alone tonight.

HandSurgeon: Or is it what you’re looking for? You want to show off to me, but also to them? The odds of the people here looking at my phone are low, but they’re not null. That’s what gets you off.

I was going to reply but he sent another message that sent something coursing straight between my legs. The throb I managed to numb after this morning’s talk came back without much efforts needed.

HandSurgeon: Maybe to calm that eagerness, we should turn it on? Have you dripping wet for tonight? Would that help with how needy you’re feeling right now? You’d be surrounded by, let’s say your friends. But your thoughts would be nowhere near that, no.

HandSurgeon: You’ll be thinking of me. Of what I’d do to you tonight, looking forward to obey. To be on your knees, in your bed, expectant in front of your screen. Like a desperate girl, pleading for some relief.

My hand slipped on my desk and grabbed the little remote, pressing it to turn the toy on. I let out a shaky breath at the sensation, spread my legs wider to try to press it deeper but finding my attempt fruitless.

HandSurgeon: Get dressed, and go join your friends. I’ll be available to talk in a few.

HandSurgeon: But don’t get too greedy. If you think you’re getting close, you turn it off. I want you begging for an orgasm tonight. Are we good?

Edelweiss: Yes sir. More than good.

Edelweiss: Maybe… maybe I could call you, no video, to do it…

He’ll ask for me to be precise. But I felt like my pride would take a hit if I wrote it down, did I want to beg? I gave it a thought while getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. Usually I wouldn’t want to beg, but it felt different here. Maybe I could use this moment to find out more about him, his tastes… his kink.

HandSurgeon: “It”?

Edelweiss: Beg. You want me to beg, I am suggesting to do it on a call. That’s what you want right? You get off on being in a position of power but what else do you like?

HandSurgeon: I’ll have you begging, no matter what. That’s the fun, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now you’re curious about what I like? We’ll talk about it after tonight’s session, right now I have to go. Have fun, be good.

I thought it was going to be child’s play. The vibrations weren’t that strong, and it’s not like there was going to be a lot of things that’d turn me on during a friend gathering. Right? Right. It’s what I thought until I joined everyone in the living room and there stood a definition of handsome. I don’t know what Nami said about him but I’m sure she never mentioned how hot he was.

Nami, Luffy and Robin were sitting on the ground by the low table. They were taking the boxes of food from the bags and giving them to everyone. What caught my eyes was the man sitting in the couch, almost lazily. He was looking at the three people with something close to boredom, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

Suddenly I regret trying to make my evening more fun… Or did I? I’d have to see how the evening go to make an opinion on being in the company of such a beautiful man when I had my own hardship going.

[Part 3]

#trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #law one piece #physicalturian #writer #ao3 writing #ao3 writer #writing #fanfiction #wop #words of pleasure

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peggyrose19 · 4 years ago

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Day 19: Soulmates

Jeez formatting this was a bitch. Advent for tonight is a little bit different, because the prompt was an accidental double. So, instead of being a sensible human being and just writing a different one-shot off it again, I decided I should get my O’Knutzy soulmate AU done instead, thinking it’d be fairly simple. Oh how wrong I was. Who knew writing an actual plot and developing a relationship was so hard? Me, but I started it anyway so really I did this to myself. So if it’s complete shit, I apologize in advance. Some day I will go back and edit and add to it. Characters by the always amazing @lumosinlove

Summary: Finn and Logan were soulmates, and had been since the moment they were born. Both had a journal filled with messages to each other, given to everyone once they turned 18. When Leo turned 18, he opened his journal to discover something rather peculiar. What did one do with two soulmates?

Sorry the summary is shit, I suck at them :) Journal entries are in italics and text messages are in bold because tumblr won’t let me underline. Hope you guys enjoy, leave a comment and I’ll love you forever <3

Leo stared down at the paper in front of him. His mind had gone blank when he’d opened the book. His soulmate journal, given to him today, on his 18th birthday. He had imagined this going hundreds of different ways. It had consumed his every waking thought for the past six months at least, what he would say, how his soulmate would respond, the possibility of words waiting for him already. What he hadn’t imagined was the words from two distinct hands written on the pages.

He thumbed through the book as word after word flashed by. Conversations flowed between these two people, going back nearly three years, according to the dates on each page. The handwritings were different. One was messy, scrawled, and Leo caught a few words of French here and there. The other was neater, script-like, and the ink was dark and consistent.

Unsure what to do, Leo began reading some of the journal. He had never heard of this happening before; he wondered if the other two knew.

What’re you doing up, it’s nearly 3 am? was the first thing Leo’s eyes fell upon.

Can’t sleep. What’re you doing up?

Reading. But that’s irrelevant. Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Okay fine. Night, Fish.

Night.

Leo could feel the affection between the two, even just from those simple words. He kept reading, flipping back through conversations that felt too private for him to be reading. His eyes found the words “I love you” written in big stark letters, filling nearly half a page. He slammed the book shut.

What was happening? Why did these two already seem to have a life? Why were they in his soulmate journal? He pushed back the tears forming in his eyes and slowly opened it again. Words began appearing on the page.

Finn, you there?

A moment later, answering words appeared, Yeah, what’s up?

Shit day. Then, I miss you.

Leo wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this. He didn’t know who these people were, why they were in his journal, what to make of the clear connection they had. The best way, he supposed, to resolve this was to see who they were.

Hesitantly, Leo grabbed a pen and set it to a blank page.

Hello?

Umm… hi? one of them wrote back quickly, the messy one.

Who are you? the other, Finn, added.

I’m Leo, he wrote, unsure of what else to say. I just got my soulmate journal, he added.

There was no answer for a while. Leo had just about given up when words began appearing on the page.

This is our journal. We’ve had it for about four years now. I’m Logan, by the way, he added.

I’m Finn.

Uh, well it’s nice to meet you both.

Neither Finn nor Logan were sure what to make of the situation. Finn grabbed his phone, watching Leo’s words spread across the page, telling them about who he was and what he’d discovered when he’d opened his journal for the first time that morning.

Lo, is it even possible he’s also our soulmate? Is that even a thing? He sent the message to Logan, turning back to the journal.

Leo, where are you from? he asked curiously.

New Orleans, came the response. Born and raised. What about you both?

New York City, Finn responded right before his phone pinged.

He pulled up Logan’s response. I’m not sure, maybe? I’ve never heard of this happening before but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t.

Quebec, came Logan’s response in the journal a moment later. Leo answered, but Finn wasn’t paying attention.

He was focused on the message on his screen, mind running through all the soulmate stories and tales he’d heard over the years. He remembered his brother getting his, being ecstatic at the messages he’d received. His friends all getting theirs, writing excitedly to their soulmates from the first moment. Even his parents talked fondly about it, the two of them meeting after a year and already being in love. None of them had two soulmates.

But then, in the back of his mind, a memory surfaced. His grandmother, telling him a story, late one night when he couldn’t sleep, about her best friend from high school. She had had a girlfriend when they went off for college, her soulmate. When they connected some years later there had been a boy too. She had never questioned it. After all, this had been the 60s. People didn’t ask questions like that.

But maybe it was possible. Maybe this could explain the hole that still seemed to exist between him and Logan, no matter how much they loved each other.

As the months passed, Leo slowly made it through the journal. Finn and Logan had both given him permission to read it, although initially he had been surprised. He barely knew these people, why were they trusting him with their deepest secrets? But Finn said that’s what a soulmate journal was for and so Leo spent each night before bed reading a few pages, getting to know his apparent soulmates better and better with each word.

He learned that Finn was a year older than Logan, 23 now, and his birthday was in August. Logan’s was in December, four days before Christmas. He read page upon page about their siblings, Finn’s older brother and Logan’s three older sisters. He wondered briefly what it was like living with siblings.

They’d met before, in person, two years ago, Logan flying from Quebec, where he lived, to New York City for New Years. Leo’s heart ached when he read that. He wondered what the city had been like, what it had been like when they met.

He wished he could meet them.

He learned the small things about them, too. Logan had a terrible sweet-tooth. He was French-Canadian and could speak it fluently. (Canadian French was very different from New Orleans French). He couldn’t dance to save his life, despite his sisters trying. Finn knew how to figure skate, but had switched to hockey early on. He still kept up with it.The only food he could make without burning was hot chocolate the way his brother showed him. Finn liked to feel useful, to make people feel better. He liked to read. He liked to write letters to Logan while he slept. And Logan would scold him for staying up late, then absolutely melt at the words written on the page.

Leo wanted one of those letters.

By the time he reached the entry from his birthday, three months had passed. It was quickly becoming summer in New Orleans, despite it being only May. As he got to know his boys better, and they got to know him, Leo wished more and more that he could meet them, see them. He wished he’d known them four years ago when they first met. He wished they’d had that time together.

He wanted them to fall in love with him.

Hey Le! Logan wrote cheerfully late one afternoon. Leo sat outside in the shade of a nearby tree, flipping aimlessly through the journal. He felt conflicted. But the nickname sent flutters through his heart. What’re you up to?

Not much, he replied. Sitting in the garden. What’re you up to?

You have a garden?

Leo chuckled. Yeah. I can see the ocean from here actually.

You can see the ocean?? Jealous.

Yeah, it’s also 85 degrees.

Nope, I’m out.

That made him laugh again. That’s what I thought.

I just don’t know how you do it! It’s like a million fucking degrees there all the time. I would actually die.

And it’s always a million fucking degrees below freezing where you live.

….touché. Leo could sense his reluctance through the paper. He wished desperately to see Logan’s face in that moment, see the pout he undoubtedly was wearing right then. To kiss it away, maybe press him back against his bed…

No. He wouldn’t let himself think of that. Because if he started down that path there was no coming back. And he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Finn we need to talk

The text came one day as Finn was getting ready for bed. He paused in brushing his teeth, typing out a response.

FaceTime in 5?

Sounds good

If he was being honest with himself, Finn had expected this a while ago. He had known it was coming, knew it needed to happen. From that first message, Logan laughed at something Leo had written. Finn knew in that moment he was gone. They both were. The only problem now was how to say it.

The ringing of his phone shook him from his thoughts.

“Hey, Lo,” he answered as the call connected.

“Hey.”

“What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from your text.” Logan didn’t laugh, and that’s when Finn knew this was really bothering him.

“Logan, I know what this is about. It’s okay.” Logan’s eyes snapped to his face.

“What- how?”

“Babe, you’re not exactly subtle. And, well, neither am I. I know it’s about Leo. It’s okay.”

Logan sighed. “I just- I know he’s our soulmate, obviously. But it still feels like I’m betraying you? How can I love both of you? How does that even work?” Finn’s eyes widened at Logan’s words.

“You love us? Both of us?”

“Harzy, how could I not? You’re my soulmates. But it’s more than that. I love you for you, not just because of some match in the system. And I want us, all of us, to be together.”

Finn was quiet for a long time. Eventually, he said quietly, “That’s why we never made sense. Why there always seemed to be a, a hole. We need Leo to complete us.”

Logan smiled. “Exactly.”

Leo, you there? Finn wrote.

Yeah, came the reply a moment later.

We have something we want to tell you.

We?

Hi Nut, Logan added hurriedly. Finn smiled at him through the phone screen. He wished he was there in person. He wished both of them were.

Logan?

Yeah, it’s me. Fish and I talked. About this, us. We want-

“Don’t take my moment!” Finn scolded playfully. “Besides, no one can read your shitty writing, I would know.” Logan pouted, but let Finn continue.

Sorry about that. What we were trying to say is that we want you. If you’ll have us. I know all of this is new for you, it is for us too. But we need you. You’re the missing piece of our puzzle, and we don’t work if we don’t have you.

Leo read the words over and over. Silence buzzed in his ears. It didn’t seem real, that these two boys, who had been each other's for so long, now wanted him. His mind couldn’t make sense of it all, of the love he could feel even through the thin pages of his notebook.

Leo, you there?

I’m here, he managed. I just don’t know what to say.

Good or bad? Finn asked cautiously.

Good, he laughed. Of course I want you two, do you know how long I’ve wished for this to happen?

Oh yeah? Tell us.

“Logan!”

“Sorry.”

Okay, you don’t have to tell us. But please tell me you’ll come see us? I need to see your face.

Please? Finn added for good measure.

Leo could have jumped up and down in that moment. Of course I will come visit. Of course. Then, a moment later, heart in his throat, he added, I love you guys.

#o'knutzy #cubs #lumosinlove #coast to coast #soulmate au #how do i write relationships #plot? what's that #falling in love #remus john lupin #advent #december 19

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whiteheartlight · 4 years ago

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Wrote a bit of an intro for my au where the Toa Mata are made into Toa Hagah for different Makuta. don't know if I'll go anywhere with it but figured I'd type it up. Krika-centric. enjoy

In the time before time...

That's how Matoran start their stories, right?

Gathered friends, listen again. In the time before time...

What? What was there? A Great Spirit? A Toa?

All their stories sound the same, in his opinion. Toa-heroes and Matoran-heroes and the Great Spirit watching, benevolent, over all of it.

Those are not how his stories go. In the time before time... he wonders when the Great Spirit stopped watching. It must have been recently, he supposes, but then again he thinks this bitterness has been festering in Teridax's heart for a long time.

The stories, after all, are not about Makuta. The stories are about Toa. Or at least the ones that Matoran tell.

Then again, who really gives a fuck?

(All of them do. That's the big secret. Krika, for all he speaks of unknowable destinies, is pretty sure that this could all have been avoided if Teridax was a little bit less glory-hungry. But ah, well. What does he know?)

“He won't really try anything,” he tells Antroz, on a day where they are out on the sea, and the ship rocks beneath their steady feet, and they know each other as brothers. “He wouldn't really challenge Miserix or whisper about plots against the Great Spirit. He's all talk.”

Antroz just looks at him. His eyes are deeply crimson. Fire is life and destruction. He shrugs.

“I think he will, Krika,” Antroz answers. “I think he will, in fact, try something.”

That is all it takes. Hearing it from Antroz's mouth, Krika knows it to be true.

“Well,” he says. “I guess we start finding our place in the new order.”

Antroz snorts.

“What?” says Krika.

“By the Spirits,” says Antroz, with a voice that says he is well aware of his own irony. “I tell you a coup is coming and your first instinct is to start re-assessing your political standing?”

“Well, are you going to do anything about it?” Krika returns, standing straighter, turning his whole body towards him.

Antroz says nothing. He is devouring a pear. It turns grey beneath his claws. He drops it overboard and watches it fall into the water and disappear from view.

“Yes, a new order is coming,” says Krika, turning back to the horizon. “But both Teridax and Miserix are foes with whom I have no desire to be involved. I'll keep my mouth shut, and if you're wise, you'll do the same. All I want is to be left on my island to build my Rahi in piece. I do not wish to be either a pawn to Teridax or protective fodder for Miserix's already over-developed sense of power. Let them fight things out on their own. We will still be standing, my brother, as we always have been.”

Antroz squints out at the sun. “And if it doesn't end up like that?”

“How else could it end up?”

Antroz shrugs again.

“I just think,” he says, “that someday – well. Someday we might be called upon to fight battles we would not otherwise have fought. And on that day, Krika, I wonder if you won't wish you had chosen a side you believed in.”

Krika gazes at him. Antroz look out at the sky. The birds are circling overhead.

“You're so full of shit,” says Krika abruptly, and it makes Antroz laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes and turns around to pick up another pear, digging his claws into the ripe body of the fruit and letting the juice run out. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, what's this about Teridax finding those Toa Mata that are meant to guard the Spirit?” adds Antroz, almost thoughtlessly.

“Don't know,” answers Krika, shrugging his shoulders. “Apparently they're waiting for the day he needs them. But you know Teridax. Probably has his own plans.”

“Yeah,” laughs Antroz. “Yeah, probably does. Oh, look, Tarakava! They're new in this part of the world – that's how you know they're a hardy species, migrating to new places...”

Those short sentences are all they speak of the Toa Mata at that time and, what's more, all they bother to think of them. They don't much care. They were not, then, enemies of the Great Spirit. And Kopaka, Tahu, Gali, Lewa, Onua, and Pohatu – the names meant nothing to them.

But they would.

That's how the stories go, right? That's what they're about. Toa.

Krika will watch it happen. He does not intend, at the time, to be a part of the story.

The rope of his destiny, however, is already closing around his white throat.

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

Krika hears the news of Miserix's death two weeks later. He knows then that he was wrong. Teridax was not all bark and no bite. Teridax bit.

Krika says nothing. Miserix is not the only Makuta who dies that week. He suspects that the ones who join him are the ones who asked too loudly: “Who did this?”

He knows. They all know.

But these are days of survival for the Makuta, and Krika is a survivor, so he keeps his goddamn mouth shut, and rises quietly through the ranks of Teridax's Brotherhood.

And when the calls for better protection come, Teridax offers one solution to his five closest allies, and suddenly those names - Tahu, Gali, Onua, Lewa, Pohatu, and Kopaka - mean something.

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

“I don't want one,” says Krika, and, at the time, he expects that to be the end of the matter.

Antroz looks up at him. His eyes are irritated. Krika crosses his arms over his chest and looks right back.

“Krika,” Antroz begins.

“It's stupid,” says Krika. “What the hell do I need a single Toa for? Maybe it made sense when Miserix and Teridax took teams. At least they might be able to actually take out a couple threats to them - not that Miserix's little team did him any good in the end. But one lone Toa? It's not going to be able to protect me from anything I can't already protect myself from.”

“Krika, I'm quite busy here,” says Antroz, turning back to his latest creation. “Can't you just do what you're told for once? You should be pleased. My pair is already entertaining. They spar all day and the red one yells every time he speaks.”

“I don't want one,” repeats Krika, feeling the small, feathery protrusions on the back of his spine raise with irritation. “I don't need one. It's asinine. I'm going home to my work and I wish to be left alone.”

Antroz looks up at him again. In these days, he is a sight to behold. Clean red colors with sweeping black lines, his mask painted with soft, noble markings, his body strong and tall and sure of itself.

Back in these days, they have nothing to fear. The present is thousands of years away. Today, they are young, and the Swamp has not changed them. And hatred and cruelty and despair – well. These are things that have only begun to change them.

Antroz turns back to his Rahi, stroking its stomach as he takes a sample from its side. “Krika, let's not pretend to be fools. Not you and I. We both know that this is not about protection. They are status symbols. You are rising in the ranks of the Makuta, my brother. Now that you have inherited your new country, you are almost as powerful and respected as I. And so, while Miserix and Teridax take six each for themselves, I take two, and you, like some of our other siblings – ”

“Fools the lot of them,” snarls Krika.

“Take one,” says Antroz coolly. “Take one like you were told. Because with each Toa we make into a Hagah, the more the Matoran come to see us as greater than the Toa. We are becoming, Krika, the most powerful species in creation. And these Toa are special. That is why Teridax had them dug from the ocean. Take one. Just the one. Command a legend and watch as the Matoran transfer their love for the Toa to their love for you.”

“I don't care,” says Krika, “about the love of the goddamn Matoran.”

“Then you are not playing the game right today, brother,” answers Antroz quietly, tinkering with his Rahi, his eyes already distracted by his passion for his creation. “That's not like you. Don't be foolish. Go. I've had enough of you... and I am technically in charge of you, aren't I, Krika?”

He digs his claws into the wall for a second, aching to say more. Aching to protest. He doesn't take orders from anyone but Miserix himself. Or Teridax now, he supposes.

But Antroz is right.

Krika is someone who is learning how to play these games right.

So he does what he always does: he takes what comes at him and he lies in wait.

Just for now. Just for now. He lies in wait.

“Fine,” he says, stalking out of the room. “But I don't want one. I'm not going to be nice to it.”

“Noted,” answers Antroz, already forgetting what they were talking about as he loses himself in his experimentation and building. Ah, he is a creature of passion in these days, and he does not know the taste of real fear.

Krika wanders into the other room, where silver canisters await him in silence, still as dead things.

He brushes condensation from the surface of the one closest at hand. The sleeping face of a Toa Mata looks back at him.

No, check that.

Not a Toa Mata. Not now. Not anymore.

“Looks like you and I are stuck with each other,” murmurs Krika, releasing the lid of the tomb where this Toa has slept for thousands of years, disturbed only by Teridax's command. “Wake up, then, Toa Hagah.”

And Mata Kopaka opens his eyes.

#krika #white light writes #makuta #bionicle

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kae-karo · 4 years ago

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fic writer interview!

i saw @prince-liest do this and thus i will take ur 'tagging anyone who wants to do this' seriously lmaoooo (also hi btw hope ur well!!! 💜💜)

How many works do you have on AO3?

ahaha,,,,,159 lmao

What's your total AO3 word count?

fdsjkkjlsfdklj as of today, 2,089,769

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

only three fsdjkldslfkj the phandom (dan&phil), bnha, and genshin!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

chosen (x) - zhongchi (genshin)

to love (and be loved in return) (x) - kaeluc (genshin)

little bird (x) - dabihawks (bnha)

feet don't touch the ground (x) - xiaoven (genshin)

i knew you were fire (x) - dabihawks (bnha)

honestly none of that surprises me except that little bird is still up there, although i think i owe that to sif (@the-final-sif) for sharing it around the time it got posted since it was partly inspired by her raptor stress grip post!!

the rest are all chaptered fics, which is mostly what i expected to be in the top 5 lmao

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

yes!!! always!!!! no matter what u comment, i will respond!!! and if i don't, it's probably cause ao3 didn't notify me properly or i didn't see it in my inbox or something

as for why, it's mostly to do with like...i know how hard it can be for some people to comment, even just a bunch of heart emojis or a 'i loved this!' or something short and simple? and it means a lot to me that ppl are going out of their way to say something nice, no matter how small, and it's really really important to me to acknowledge that

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

hmm,,,,,this is a hard one, cause for a very long time, my policy was that my fic would always have a happy ending? and for a long time, that was true!! but the dabihawks interaction (during the raid) broke me, and from an emotional standpoint, i think freeing icarus (x) is probably the one that has the angstiest ending of the two or so that i wrote in that time?

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

u know i really haven't written any crossovers? it's normally not my thing cause my brain typically focuses on a single thing and doesn't really have the capacity to think about more than that, so i end up writing just au-style or fusion-style (shoutout to that one bnha but it was scooby doo fic i wrote - x)

i don't think i'd be opposed to writing a crossover but i'd have to be SUPER inspired by the idea and both fandoms lmao

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

aha yes, i have. the only straight up hate i've received was on a kaeluc fic (surprisingly not because it was kaeluc, but bc i was 'mistreating' kaeya in the fic) - to be entirely fair, the commenter pointed out something that i hadn't realized myself, and it led to a second piece of the story that helped me tie up some loose ends, but...let's just say they weren't very kind about their feelings lmao

other than that, i had someone very upset because i didn't tag which character was bottoming in a fic (valid if that bugs u!) and they read through most of it before getting to the smut (and said that they enjoyed everything up to that point) then said they were 'disgusted' by it. i have opinions on that and a few other comments they made, but i will keep them to myself lmao

and beyond that, just a few ppl on my xiaoven fic saying that they were unhappy about the background kaeluc (which is tagged lmao) - really no hate whatsoever til genshin, honestly, which is...very hmmmm :) lmao

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yep!!! mostly vanilla or vanilla-adjacent lmao i'm not super into heavy kink, although i know if epi reads this she's gonna call me out for being a monsterfucker bc of my dragon!zhongli smut :) lmaoooo but really i tend to write pretty vanilla smut! i also prefer to avoid any noncon/dubcon or hate sex or anything particularly angsty, just not my jam to write!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

hmm i don't think so? although i don't heavily monitor ao3 (or wattpad/ffn), so i can't really say that for sure lmao

Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!! i've had a few fics translated to russian (little bird is one of them!) which is very sweet and i hope that anyone who prefers to read in russian has been enjoying those fics!!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

alksdfjklsdf only once, and it's deadass how me and rose got together. we decided to co-write a podcast au fic for the phandom (x) and ended up flirting via google docs asldkfjkldsfj

What’s your all time favourite ship?

what a horrible question, making me choose between my children like this!!!! sdlfkjdskf tbh i'm not sure i have a real answer bc it changes as i go? and 'favorite' is so vague,,,,,favorite to read? to write about? to think about? asdklfjkjsdfk i really don't know if i have an answer, but i'll maybe say kaeluc for now lmao

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

well first and foremost, with only 2 exceptions, i never post a fic unless it's done. i tend to follow wherever my passion leads my brain, so i'm notorious for jumping around between stories and taking breaks from long fic and returning later on to finish them, and i know that i would not do well under the pressure of posting something unfinished and trying to finish it in a timely manner

that said, many wips sit in my google doc folder, but one is Well Known as the one that has followed me through both the phandom and bnha (rose keeps asking who i'm gonna switch the chars to in genshin, but i think it suits bakudeku too well to do that) - only the lonely survive. it sits at like 36k in my wip folder, and i adore the story dearly and i want very much to finish it, but it never makes it quite to the forefront of my motivation, and so it rarely if ever gets worked on...i hate the idea of 'never' finishing it, but it's unfortunately quite likely that i won't 😭😭😭

What are your writing strengths?

emotion!!! and immersion!!! it's my goal in a fic to make it as immersive as possible and saturated with emotion to help convey that feeling of being in the place of the pov character, and i think i do it pretty well. also just bc i feel a little obligated to say it - another strength is actually sitting down and putting words down. i know that's a struggle for a lot of writers and i often get,,,,lovingly bullied? i guess? lmao for being able to bash out a few k in a day most days

What are your writing weaknesses?

this isn't so much a weakness i guess but i am basically incapable of treating crack fic as crack. if i have a cracky idea, it will, without a doubt, end up turning into a Perfectly Serious fic somehow (notable 'crack treated so seriously that it's no longer crack' fics include: todoroki doing the freeze-the-ocean thing from frozen 2, 'shmigaraki', todo and denki get together bc of vine references, the league sells feet pics, shiggy and natsu own a nightclub/bakery, scooby doo but make it bnha, and dabi getting his ears pierced at claire's)

but in all seriousness, i think my main weakness is that i often get comfortable? and i'm not one to typically push myself forcefully out of my comfort zone when it comes to stories that i come up with on my own, which often means that ideas inspired by discussions with others are what prompt me to branch out and try new things?

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think, like anything, it has its place? there are certainly stories where it makes sense to do that and even adds depth to a story, although i personally am not exceptionally comfortable enough with other languages (except maybe asl) to do that in fic myself without the assistance of someone very comfortable with that language lmao

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

the phandom! not really my jam to write rpf anymore but it definitely got me started and i'm really grateful for my time writing there, as everyone was super supportive and kind, and it was really a perfect place for a beginner to get comfortable and practice

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

again, forcing me to choose between my children...i really don't know that i can pick one fic bc they all exist in such wildly different spaces? i poured my worldbuilding soul into the king of disaster series (mainly dabihawks - x), exile (dan and phil - x) was my first massively long fic, our hearts are heavy burdens we shouldn't have to bear alone (chayea - x) is probably my favorite character/character dynamic study, i'm exceptionally proud of the smut in chosen (zhongchi - x), the list goes on and on and on lmao like. i could probably list half my fics as favorites in some regard dsflkjdfsjkl

anyway, tyty bellamy for putting this on my dash so i could do it as well!!

tagging: literally anyone who wants to do this, i have so many writer friends slkdjfjklsdf but please please tag me if u do it so i can read urs!!! 💜💜💜

#writing

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ramblinganthropologist · 3 years ago

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Fictober 2021 (3) - “I’ve waited for this”

Fanfiction

Fandom: Mass Effect (Actor AU)

Summary: Macen Virius was supposed to be breaking things off with his costar. Instead, he’s pretty sure he might have just caught feelings. Damn it, it was just supposed to be a sex thing...

---

There was nothing like the end of a long day of filming to make Macen want to go to fucking sleep.

Every muscle in his body ached as he left the set to change out of his costume. Moments before, he had been in the blown out remains of a battlefield. Post would add the effects, but his hands still ached from holding his prop rifle and clicking the useless trigger button. Honestly, if he had been human, he would have expected an imprint there.

He was going to have to ask his costar about that later…

“Where is he anyway?” Macen’s mandibles twitched as he glanced around. Everyone was heading off, but there was no sign of Mass Effect’s leading man. Usually, he stuck around to talk to his costar – then again, he didn’t see the other ‘Commander Shepard’ either. They must have both taken off early…

He envied that about humans. They got out of costume and makeup way too quickly.

In the end, he too was back in his regular clothes. As he walked, he rubbed his right mandible, trying to get the feeling back. Part of playing Garrus meant that he needed fake implants to imply he’d had half his face blown off. With how numb that mandible got, it certainly felt that way. No doubt about it, he was looking forward to the final season where all he would need is scar tissue. At least he’d be able to move better in that.

A beeping drew his attention to his wrist as he left the set. His omnitool was letting him know he had a message from a certain fake redhead. As humans put it, curiosity killed the cat (don’t ask him, he didn’t even know what a cat was) so he opened it.

Alex Jones: Hey, rehearsal at my place tonight?

Alex Jones: I can get takeout from that levo-dextro place again. You liked their noodles.

He had liked their noodles. What he didn’t like was… well, this.

“You’re getting too attached, Virius. This is just supposed to be about sex.” He shook his head, half considering calling things off so he could have the night to himself. Problem was that his stomach had started to growl at the thought of those noodles. Besides, tomorrow’s shoot was supposed to involve a lot of emotional moments – he needed all the feedback he could get.

With any luck, he’d end the night in his own bed without fucking the human. After all… he was a turian of self-restraint and control. He could totally handle this.

…

Yeah, he was just going to keep telling himself that and hope for the best. Damn sexy human…

---

An hour later, Macen found himself standing in front of his costar’s door, frowning as he stared at the metal. As hard as he tried to talk himself into ending things, doubt still gnawed at his stomach.

He should end things. It never ended well when he got too into somebody.

“He should understand… it’s just sex… he’s my costar, and it’s just sex.” Macen shook his head again, frowning as he started to key in the human’s door code. Alex had given it to him a month prior, mostly so if he was going to be late he could get in.

That probably wasn’t a good sign, but he had elected to ignore it.

The door clicked opened, and he stepped in. Much to his surprise, the sound of upbeat music met him in the hallway. Not only that, but someone was singing to it if his translator was anything to go by. The damn thing was working overtime as he sidled closer to the entrance to the living room, holding his breath as he peaked in.

Lucky for him, Alex’s back was to him. The human had cleared a space in his living room in order to have room for what he was doing then. However, Macen was having a problem processing what “that” was. Well, he knew it was dancing – a somewhat odd version of it – but it was just so… old fashioned.

Also, since when did Alex dance?

“Let’s chase the dreaming light, and I’ll truly be myself…”

Dancing wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Macen’s jaw dropped as he realized the soft, sweet voice he had heard in the hallway was coming from Alex himself as he worked through the song with flowing, easy moves. Something about it was so painstakingly familiar, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it as he stood mutely in the hallway, watching the scene in front of him.

He had to wonder… what did it look like from the front?

“There’s a scene I want to show you. You have to wait for it… so let’s make a promise!”

Alex moved into a different position, holding out his hand to an imaginary audience that Macen couldn’t see as he took a step up. Every one of his moves were precise, even though he was doing nothing more than dancing around his apartment in his socks. Clearly, he had been practicing…

But for what?

“There’s a gentle wind wrapping around me… isn’t it warm?”

Macen knew a bridge when he heard one, and he felt himself holding his breath as he watched. Alex was getting closer to his imaginary audience now, probably for whatever was going to come in the final chorus. Maybe it was because he was so focused on the man that he hadn’t noticed his heart had begun to beat faster, but it thudded all the same.

“They’re overflowing, these endless hearts…” The man suddenly turned on his heel, facing the entry way. “Please carry them to tomorrow!”

And then no more singing happened as the precursor to the final chorus played behind him. He was fixed on the turian standing in his living room, looking rather shocked as if he hadn’t given him the door code. Macen wasn’t doing much better, mind you – he still hadn’t managed to shut his damn mouth.

And people thought they were cool. If only the blogs could see them now.

At least Alex shut the music off as he regained sense. He reached for a towel to dry off his apparently sweaty face, cheeks a slight pink from exercise. Maybe it was the sweat that had made him shine in that moment. For all Macen knew, it had caught the overhead light when he spun around like that.

Meanwhile, his heart wasn’t slowing down. Still…

“Uh… I guess my text didn’t make it.” At least his mandibles were starting to work. “I didn’t miss the noodles yet, did I?”

The human put his towel down as he started towards his phone propped up on a stand. “They’ll be here in 15 last I checked.”

The music started playing on his phone as he frowned. “Damn, I knew I spun the wrong way…”

This caused Macen to cock his head to the side. “Were you recording yourself for social media or something?”

Doubtful; this kind of thing definitely wasn’t in the human’s wheelhouse. After all, he was supposed to be playing Commander Shepard. While the man had some oddities, he probably didn’t dance around like that.

…

Then again, who fucking knew. Dude was weird.

Alex was still checking his phone as he spoke. “No, just recording my practice to see where I need to improve for filming next week.”

Surprisingly, he was grinning as he looked up. “I’ve waiteda for this for a long time, so I want to get it right.”

Something about the way he smiled did awful things to Macen’s stomach. However, the statement set his mind whirring. While he wasn’t a complete Reaper War freak like some of his coworkers, he at least knew enough to be sure something like that hadn’t happened. After all, there’d be videos, right?

Definitely videos, no way Joker would’ve let that slip by.

“Ok, you’re going to have to fill me in on this one… since when did Shepard do a little dance?”

Alex chuckled – again, there went his stomach. “2185, to be exact. The Normandy ran into a rogue AI that accidentally found its way into Shepard’s music collection. They needed to distract it, so he wound up putting on a little show. He disabled the cameras beforehand, but he wrote about it in his journal, so we know it happened. And now I get to do it on TV and make all the people who think he was just a military guy hate me. I’m thrilled.”

Clearly – he was sparkling again, and this time it wasn’t from the sweat. Macen felt his heart beat harder again, and he tried to distract himself by looking towards the door. If those noodles could save his ass, he’d marry them.

Besides, he was supposed to be calling things off with the guy.

Alex was still looking through his phone as he spoke. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve done a dance routine for TV, I was worried I forgot how. I’m definitely a little rough, but it’s better than I thought it would be. Good thing the director let me know early so I could practice a bit more.”

Macen started to open his mouth to ask, but then the memory came to the surface. He knew where he had heard the voice before, and honestly he was surprised he had forgotten about it. Back then, he had secretly loved to watch it.

Secretly, of course, because Citadel Idol Heart was really more of a girl’s show. The popular teen drama about idols competing in a Citadel-wide talent competition in hopes of seeing their dreams come to life had run for a few years, and he had seen every episode. More importantly, he had once crushed on the main character, a blonde idol with blue eyes and the sweetest voice he had ever heard. Whenever she took the stage, he had been unable to look away.

Just like he couldn’t look away now…

“You… I forgot you were on CIH.”

It was now Alex’s turn to blink back surprise as he looked up from his phone. “You watched that?”

“Kind of…” His eyes darted. “Your voice hasn’t changed much. I mean it’s gotten older sounding but I’m glad to know it wasn’t autotune or anything…”

Things had officially gotten awkward. There he was, with the crush from his teenage years… and he was fucking the guy without even knowing it. Life was weird, and it was getting worse by the second. If only teenage him could see him now…

The man’s cheeks turned a light pink at the compliment. “Well, it’s not like I’ve gone on T or anything, so no big surprise there…”

He got up, probably to check for the noodles. “I take it you were part of the Melody fan club then. Unless you were an edge lord and went with Black Rose. Her fan club was the absolute worst and insisted we hated each other, but I was the best man at her damn wedding last year…”

The rest of his statement was drowned out by the opening of a door and the ruffling of a paper bag. At last, the noodles had arrived. Unfortunately, Macen realized he didn’t have much of an appetite. His stomach refused to calm, and his heart still pounded as he sat there, processing everything.

At least the application of a warm box to his mandibles helped.

“Macen, your noodles are going to get cold.”

He blinked and realized Alex was nudging him in the face with his food. That shot him back to reality as he took the box and proffered plastic fork that went with it. The human then settled in next to him – not across! – and started to dig into his own box.

Right… food. And they were supposed to be rehearsing. And he was definitely supposed to be breaking up with his costar.

“I had the pin.”

His comment left silence in his wake. Alex had stopped eating and was giving him a rather incredulous look. This caused Macen to duck his head in lieu of eating noodles. After all, it was hard to do so politely when you had a face like his. Really, he should have sworn them off… but they were just so damn good he couldn’t resist.

Damn humans and their noodles, they were out to get him.

“You had the fan club pin?”

Yep – there went his mandibles, flapping in the breeze. “I was a big fan, ok? What can I say, everyone loves an underdog story… and you maybe… looked good in that one outfit. The orange one…”

Melody in the orange outfit had been taped to his bedroom wall until he left for basic. Hell, it might still be there…

“God, you’re such a nerd.”

Alex was chuckling though as he put his fork down. It was a nice sound, though it did horrible things to Macen’s stomach once more. Thoughts of noodles evaporated as he sat there, taking in the sound of the human’s mirth. He really needed to laugh more often… maybe he should work on making that happen.

“Well… I can’t exactly let a fan down, now can I?”

He stood and crossed the room to the open space he had created. The music was soon queued up to where he had last stopped, and Alex took position once more. The smile on his face made Macen’s heart want to stop as he sat there, a noodle still hanging from his mandible.

“I can take off into the dreaming sky… because I’m not alone.” Alex winked as he moved, following the song. “Wherever it is, I feel like I can go across the distant sky…”

Then the music swelled as it led into the final chorus. Macen forgot how to breathe in that moment as he watched his costar dance and sing along to the ancient song. All he could think of was how much better he had gotten since the days of CIH…

And how much he wanted to kiss him.

“It’s not enough to put into words, so I’m putting it into a song I’m wishing will reach you.” Another smile as Alex twirled, then began his final pose as the song began to wind down. “Beating my heart~”

The last pose, with his head cocked to the side and hands clasped together, held as the music faded. Then there was silence in the living room as Macen struggled to remember how to function. Right then, there was nothing there but Alex and the table in front of him that kept him in place.

Shit.

“It probably needs some work, but I think I’ve got the basics considering it’s only been a couple hours.” Alex landed back on the couch, picking his food back up. “What do you think, Macen? Got anything you noticed?”

Yeah… his heart was still beating like crazy.

“Macen?”

The turian shook his head – probably launching the noodle in the process. At least it didn’t hit the man next to him, so he could thank his lucky stars for that. However, it was hard to think then as so many feelings and thoughts crashed together.

He was supposed to be calling it off… that was why he came over. This was just supposed to be a sex thing… but every bone in his carapace was telling him to grab the other man and kiss the daylights out of him. They hadn’t even ever kissed outside of sex or prepping for scenes…

What the hell was wrong with him?

“I uh… I don’t know the song, but maybe hold the last pose a bit longer. They might be able to make your eyes light up a bit more.”

Alex nodded at this. “I’ll make a note. Also, don’t you hate cold noodles? Last time you wouldn’t stop complaining when the delivery guy was late…”

Right then, Macen wasn’t sure what he hated or liked as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He just needed something, anything to keep him away from the thoughts currently blooming in his mind.

He knew this path – he hated it. It never ended well. And long ago he had told himself he was never going to walk down it again if he had any sense in his head. This was nothing more than a rehash on an old teenage crush… he could overpower it.

“We need our energy to practice.” He slurped down the last noodle, glad that none were sticking to his face this time. “Tomorrow’s going to be hell if we’re not ready.”

At least his costar nodded as he worked to finish his dinner. “Tell me about it, I have a damn imprint on my trigger finger from that damn gun…”

Well, at least on the bright side that question got answered. It did nothing to quell the bubbling feelings Macen was trying so desperately to beat down, but at least his curiosity was sated for the moment. Maybe that would get him through filming.

One thing was for sure… he was fucked. No way about it – he was just plain fucked. The universe was laughing at him, and he only had himself to blame. All he could do was hope he could hold back and wait for the feelings to pass.

If they didn’t… see the previous statement for clarification. Fuck… he was supposed to be a turian sharpshooter, not a lovesick puppy. He didn’t sign up for this.

#fictober21 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #that mass effect actor au #shakarian #Well shakarian actor AU #but they're also gonna get together lo #I mean they're fucking but they caught ~feelings~

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villa-kulla · 3 years ago

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Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22, thanks for the tag, sorry for the delay!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

722 309. I’d have thought it would be more considering how long some of mine seem to get, although looking at other people’s answers to this meme, I guess 26 isn’t really a huge number!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

My first fic ever was a little Lord of the Rings experiment for an exchange thing. But my first proper dip into writing for a fandom would have been Breaking Bad, where I wrote for a couple of years before it felt like my ideas had run their course. Then there was a Kingsman fic, and then Mag7 where - similarly to BrBa - wrote feverishly for a couple years until it felt like the well had been plumbed. Oh yeah and then jumped into the Marvel fandom to drop one Marvel fic before immediately jumping back out lol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So the Marvel fic has officially just become my most kudoed fic, which is kind of hilarious considering it was a SUEZ! CANAL! FIC! But in my opinion, a good one lol. So yeah, it would be 1. The SamBucky Suez Canal fic, 2. The Kingsman soccer AU, 3. Desert Sand, 4. Chisolm’s 7, and 5. Blue Devils. That last one surprises me, but I guess it was an early one for the fandom, so I think it became an automatic read.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not

I do! It’s possible I’ve missed some here and there, but generally I try to get them all.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them! While my fics definitely include angst, ideally it’s still in a fun way, or at minimum, bittersweet? I don’t generally want the last taste in a reader’s mouth to be angst. ALTHOUGH. I really really wanted to include an epilogue to the selkie fic that’s kind of angsty. Basically the story would end, but then many years later we’d see an old man get off a bus on the coastal road, carrying a suitcase. He’d be wearing a suit, clearly back from many years travelling. He’d walk to the coast, back over a hill where there’d once been a little fishing cottage, long since torn down. He’d walk down to the beach and into a little cove where he’d kneel by the water he knew better than anyone. Opening the suitcase he’d take out a box which he’d then empty into the ocean, ashes spreading across the water. He’d take out a folded bundle of cloth and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he’d dive into the water, disappearing into the waves, leaving nothing but an empty suitcase behind him, and a folded pile of clothes.

I loved that ending but I’m still not 100% sure if it was keeping in tone with the actual ending, so I left it out. Maybe one day I’ll go and add it as en extra chapter snippet.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t know if I’d call them ‘crossovers’ exactly, although I did stick Goody and Billy into a Some Like it Hot ‘jazz band on a train’ situation, and I also did a Breaking Bad one that used some elements of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Those feel more like ‘AUs’ though. I like situational crossovers, but I’ve never been super into fics where characters from different fandoms actually interact.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully not. The most off-putting comment I’ve gotten was someone who - despite being very complimentary - decided to make a full-on laundry list all the anachronisms in a chapter lmao, like what. Stuff like "interesting that this character used this expression when XYZ would only been invented 10 years later!” etc. I’m positive they didn’t realize how it came off, but still, that was kind of hilarious in its.....obliviousness lol. It was special.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. And I guess I’ve done the full spectrum of ‘fade to black’ to ‘describe every bead of sweat in pearlescent detail’. It really depends on what the fic calls for! I’ve done some I’m quite proud of tbh, but there are others I’d like to go back and have another stab at, just because they felt kinda cookie-cutter.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

There’ve been a couple! I can’t remember which ones specially, but I had some people asking to translate some Breaking Bad ones, and I think a Mag7 one too. I remember someone messaging to ask permission like “We love your fics in Russia!” and that was a very sweet and wild thing to hear.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I wrote one with @yoporkchopsandwiches! Our Victorian opium dens Breaking Bad AU lol. I was just thinking of that recently actually and remembering how fun it was to read what the other wrote! We plotted out most of it together, and then took turns writing chapters or scenes. But of course while writing you come up with other details or ideas, so we’d then present the new chapter to the other with all the new bits added. And it was so fun to read what the other came up with like ‘omg no way didn’t see that coming/good idea!’ and then picking up their idea from there. In that sense it was almost like improv but for writers.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That I’ve written? I think I’ve had the most fun with Goodnight/Billy, partly for the time period, partly for the dynamic, but mostly for the plausibility. While I really enjoyed writing BrBa, it felt more like it came from enthusiasm for the show, not the central ship lol. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry and its potential was extremely fun to write in a fic setting, but I don’t find I actually shipped it while watching the show itself. Whereas it’s been nice with Mag7 to write for a ship that’s actually....more believable lol.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ugh I can’t beLIEVE I have an unfinished fic up on ao3 lol it haunts me. I was sure I was done with Goodnight/Billy, and then early quarantine last year I had a train robbers AU idea, so I posted a couple chapters. But I don’t think my heart was super in it, I was more just messing around with the idea. I don’t want to delete it, but I’m also not super motivated to finish it haha, but we’ll see what happens. But tbh I like the poem summary better than the fic itself:P

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting, keeping things moving, and making stories feel visual maybe? They’re almost all movies in my head anyways, so I think I have good instincts for ‘cinematic moments’.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I’m a little lazy, and also ‘end-product oriented’. In some ways it’s helpful to picture the whole fic before you write it, but sometimes it results in some scenes feeling slightly slapdash because I’m just trying to get them out to move onto the next. Like ‘everyone did everything I wanted to in this scene? Great, next.’ I could stand to ‘stop and smell the roses’ more while I write, and actually see what else I can do to improve a scene.

(also if I use a word once it sticks in my head I end up using it like 5 other times in a scene and don’t notice lol, I need to stop that)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All for it! Depends how it’s done though. I personally find long scenes of dialogue where you have to constantly jump down to the author’s notes for the translations to be distracting. I like when it’s integrated more naturally where actual translations aren’t super important. Like in River Grit, Billy overhears this little exchange between Goodnight and his childhood nanny:

“Ah c’est vrai, mon petit Bonsoir! J’en peux pas le croire!” she cried out and laughed as she embraced Goody. Billy realized with a start that he actually recognized one of the words: ‘Bonsoir’. Goodnight. (insert brief flashback of Goody teaching him the nickname) / “Ma Serafine,” Goodnight said with a laugh. “C’est vrai que tu ne vieillis pas. Tu vas me rendre jaloux, heh?” / Billy had no idea what Goodnight was saying, but he sure as hell recognized Goodnight’s tone for flattery, and it was confirmed when the old woman laughed and smacked his arm.

What they’re actually saying is: “Oh it’s true, my little Goodnight! I can’t believe it!” / “My Serafine, it’s true you never age. You’re going to make me jealous”. But it doesn’t matter because this fic is from Billy’s POV so it’s about how he experiences the language around him, which is why I wouldn’t have included a translation for the reader. If you understand it then it’s a bonus, but the words themselves aren’t really the point!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That lil Lord of the Rings fic.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm for Mag7 I’ve always liked River Grit and love how it turned out. I also think Ashes feels very complete as a fic and I liked the flashback format. And while it’s not my favourite fic, in hindsight I’m impressed with the Kingsman football fic and how I had to write about 5 different soccer games and make them all feel different and exciting, and not just some variation of ‘He kicked the ball!’ I’m really pleased with how those sequences all turned out.

La fin! Not tagging anyone this time, but please feel free to do this if you see it! I love when people just take initiative to do these things without waiting for a tag (also please tag me in it if you do, ‘cause I love reading these things lol)

#shares #fontainebleau22

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crystalninjaphoenix · 4 years ago

Text

Another Life

Switch AU

A JSE Fanfic

I’ve decided to take this story to properly introduce Switch!Jack to the AU. Because I think I’ve come up with a great way for him to fit in and I’m really excited to see more of him :D And most of the others are, too. Except for Anti. Seems like his trust issues are acting up. Those two just need to get to know each other, it’ll be fiiiiiine. Anyway, hope you guys like this story, and like Switch!Jack as much as I do ^-^

More of this AU found here

It was noon on a Friday, and Anti was getting off a bus. He watched as it pulled away from the stop, then sighed. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. But the others did, and so here he was, reluctantly going along with their plan to get to know this new guy: Jack, Sam’s friend.

He never understood why the others—JJ and Jackie especially—were always so eager to add new people to this group. Especially people they barely knew, like Jack. Really, what had he done so far? He’d showed up at the park and got Anti home after that incident at the Aspen Street house. Then told the others that he was fine. And...that was it. But because he was connected to Sam, and they knew that strange little eyeball to be friendly, they thought it was a good idea to get to know the guy. Anti just didn’t see the point. They didn’t know anything about him! What if this was some sort of trick?

Sighing, Anti started walking, heading towards the restaurant where they’d agreed to meet. At the very least, he could use this as a way to figure out what was going on with Sam. See if they could learn what Sam was, and things like that.

They’d invited Jack to The Waffle Cone, one of their usual places, thinking the casual, familiar setting would be a nice getting-to-know-you environment. But instead of their usual spot at a table near the window, they’d instead taken one of the booths near the back, in a slight alcove with no windows nearby. So that Sam could fly around the semi-hidden area without being seen by passerbys. Though Anti couldn’t help but notice when he walked in that Jack, and therefore Sam, were nowhere to be seen. Why was that? A harmless reason, or something else? He sighed as he walked towards the back to join the others.

“Hey Anti!” Jackie stood up, reaching out but pausing before actually making contact.

“Hey.” Anti patted Jackie on the back. It was a casual contact day. “Wow, so Highlighter Hair is even later than I am?”

“Highlighter Hair? C’mon, Anti,” Jackie sighed.

“Well he’s right, his hair is really bright,” Marvin pointed out from where he was sitting near the wall. “Why woul’ anyone want t’at? Doesn’ it just draw attention?”

“Some people want that,” Schneep muttered. He was sitting opposite Marvin, but when Anti showed up he stood and walked out of the booth, letting Anti have the seat by the wall.

“Yeah, the question is why,” Anti said, sitting down. “Like, if you have a magic eyeball companion, you’d want to blend in, right?”

After a bit of musical chairs they ended up with Anti by the wall, Schneep next to him, then Jackie on the end. On the other bench were Marvin and JJ. Maybe it’s for work? Jameson suggested, signing slowly.

“For a job? Is that what you said?” Anti asked. JJ nodded, and at that, Anti considered the idea. “Well, what does he do that needs neon-colored hair?”

JJ reached into his pocket. After a bit of rummaging, he took out his wallet, and put the card Jack had given him into the middle of the table. Everyone leaned close to look. “Oh, so he’s a musician,” Jackie said.

“A musician with a weird floating eyeball companion who can talk with him telepathically,” Anti stressed.

“You know, considering you are the only other person here with dyed hair, you really should not be judging people on their appearance,” Schneep commented.

“I—that’s not the point!” Anti protested. “He’s got to be something more!”

“Well we can ask him, because he’s showin’ up,” Marvin said, gesturing towards the front entrance. At that very moment, Jack was walking in, hands in his pockets and highlighter-bright hair practically glowing in the sunlight, and looking around. Jackie stood up and waved to draw his attention. Jack smiled and waved back, then headed over.

“Hi everyone. Sorry I’m late,” he said, sliding into the empty spot next to JJ. “I got lost. This place is pretty far from the tourist-y parts of the city I’ve been in so far.”

“Oh my god!” Schneep threw his hands up in the air. “Why is everyone Irish?!”

Anti and Marvin burst into laughter. “Hey, I’m not Irish,” Jackie pointed out.

“Your mom is, it is the same thing if you are half,” Schneep rebutted.

JJ picked his pencil and notebook up from the table and wrote, I’m definitely not Irish. 100% British.

“Oh, god, Jems, that’s even worse,” Marvin snickered.

JJ gasped exaggeratedly, then nudged Marvin’s arms, making him laugh more.

Jack was chuckling as well. “Yeah, I was just thinking to myself that this city has a lot of Irish people in it. Even the name sounds more Irish than British, right? ‘Mirygale.’ I’ve been all over, and that’s not very English if you ask me. Wonder why that is.”

Jackie shrugged. “I guess maybe there’s always been a bunch of Irish people in the area. I bet if you looked up city history there’d be something interesting there.”

“You sound like a primary school teacher assigning a topic to a kid’s first essay,” Anti muttered. “Is Sam here?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jack took off his backpack and unzipped it. The moment it was open enough Sam flew out. They looked around, taking in the setting, then floated back down to the table, scooting closer to Jack, who patted them, smiling. “We always go everywhere together. Which is why I was so worried when they decided to come here on their own and didn’t tell me.”

Schneep hummed. “They did that without telling you? Is that not a bit rude?”

“We’ve already talked it over by ourselves,” Jack said. “So if you’re trying to get them to apologize, they already did.”

“Okay, Jack. Mr. McLoughlin.” Anti leaned across the table, getting as close to Jack as he could without Schneep shoving him back. “Time to talk about this. Where the fuck do you get a floating eyeball? Where did they come from? Why can you talk to them but nobody else can? Also what the fuck are they? None of us have ever heard of a floating green eye. What are you?”

“Anti,” Jackie said, putting a hand on his arm. “Can you back off a bit? We just met the guy.”

Jack was unphased by Anti’s hostile tone and blatant mistrust. He just adjusted his glasses and said, “Yeah, Sam’s told me all about you guys. You’re all magic or something, right?”

“Well, technic’lly Jems is the only magician,” Marvin pointed out. JJ nodded, then pulled his usual parlor trick of tiny blue fireworks.

“Whoa.” Jack whistled. “I’ve never really talked to a real magician before.”

JJ tilted his head. So...you know there are real magicians?

“Sort of, yeah. Sam and I have met some, but it was always a lot of questioning and exchanging information, you know, kinda like what Anti’s trying to do.” Anti jumped at being called out like that, and Jack laughed a bit. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. But if we’re at a restaurant, can we at least order food first? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, of course. Hang on.” Jackie handed Jack his menu. “Here, let’s all find something then I’ll go up and order.”

A while later everyone had their food, eating and chatting about nothing. Except for Anti. He just kept staring at Jack, eyes narrowed, listening to everyone else talk about movies and video games and books. Sam was curled up around the salt and pepper shakers in the middle of the table, constantly turning around to follow the thread of conversation. “So does Sam need to eat?” Anti asked the second there was a lull in the conversation. “Because they never did when they were staying with me.”

Jack shook his head, taking a moment to swallow the bite of his sandwich he’d just taken. “No, but they get really upset when I don’t. We like, share energy. Mostly. They just kinda get hangry.”

You share energy and you can hear their thoughts? So you ARE connected somehow, JJ quickly wrote.

“Guys, we really shouldn’t be asking questions Jack doesn’t want to answer right now,” Jackie pointed out.

“No no no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Jack reassured him. “I’m not actually upset about it. I just thought we’d get to know each other a little first. Sam’s told me a lot about you guys, but it’s not the same, you know?”

Sorry, JJ signed. Then realizing Jack probably didn’t know what he said, he wrote Sorry out on the paper instead.

“Really, it’s alright.”

“Jackie, it is fine,” Schneep said. “We are all curious, Jack is fine with it, really there is no problem.”

“Wait, t’ere was a problem?” Marvin asked, confused.

“No, no problem!” Jack repeated. “Man, there is no train of thought with you guys. Or there is, it’s just all winding around and no one is driving.”

“Thanks, it’s the ADD in two of us combined with the bad social skills of the others,” Jackie said.

“Wh—well, we know, but hey,” Schneep said, mock-offended.

“Anyway, back to the question,” Anti said, rubbing the side of his head where an ache was starting to develop. “You and Sam are connected?”

“Uh-huh.” Jack nodded. Sam wiggled their way out from between the salt and pepper and hopped over to Jack’s shoulder. “Of course we are, they’re my eye.”

There was a moment of silence as the others all collectively processed that statement. “Wait, y’mean...literally?” Marvin finally asked.

“Yep. Here, I’ll tell you the story.” Jack leaned back, tapping the table with his fingers. “I was about...nine or ten, and one day, my right eye just started really aching. My family took me to the doctor, but they couldn’t find anything wrong, so they just gave me some bandages to cover my eye and told me to keep it closed. Don’t remember why. But a couple days later, I woke up in the middle of the night and the whole right side of my head hurt. So I got out of bed, went over to the mirror on my desk, and took off the bandages to see if something looked wrong. The minute I did, plop! My eye fell out.”

“Oh my god!” Jackie gasped.

“You can bet that freaked me the fuck out,” Jack continued. “And then I looked down, and it was green, and glowing. And then it started to move, and it looked at me. And that was Sam.”

And you didn’t TELL anyone?! JJ asked, aghast.

“Jamie, please, what was he supposed to do?” Schneep asked. “He probably thought he would get in trouble with his parents.”

“Actually I thought that if I told anyone the government would come take me away,” Jack corrected. “So, uh. Yeah. Same idea, I guess. Same result. Sam stayed a secret, and over time they started getting bigger and able to fly, and now here they are.” Sam bounced, then nuzzled Jack’s neck.

“What about your eye now?” Marvin asked.

“That’s even weirder. I went back to bed, and in the morning, my eye was back in place. But Sam was still around. Of course, I was ten, so that made perfect sense to me at the time, but freaky as fuck looking back on it.”

“So it’s not fake?” Anti asked skeptically.

“Nope.” Jack tapped his cheek below his right eye. “Can see out of it and everything. I do kinda wish it looked a bit cooler, though. Like your thing, with the different colors? That would be cool.”

Anti didn’t say anything, not taking Jack’s clear peace offering.

I’ve never heard of something like this happening, JJ wrote. And neither has anyone I’ve spoken to. Have you, Jack?

Jack shook his head. “As far as I know, Sam and I are one-of-a-kind.”

“That is fascinating,” Schneep muttered. “I wonder why that happened? There was nothing that could have caused Sam?”

“Not that I remember,” Jack shrugged. “I’m just a guy, really. A guy with a living eyeball that has their own personality.”

“That’s not something that happens to ‘just a guy,’” Anti insisted. “And what do you do with this one-of-a-kind opportunity? You can’t tell me that you do regular shit when your life is like this.”

“Anti, I—” Jackie sighed. “Anti, can I talk to you? Somewhere private?”

“We’re in a restaurant, Jackie.”

“Then let’s go to the bathroom. C’mon.” Jackie stood up. Sighing, Anti started to get out of the booth, waited a moment for Schneep to let him out, then followed Jackie into the men’s bathroom.

“Well, we’re here,” Anti said, checking to make sure that nobody else was in the stalls. “And we’re alone. What’s wrong?”

“Look, Anti, I know you don’t like meeting new people,” Jackie said. “But you’re being...well...more dickish to Jack than usual. What’s the deal? Did you not like Sam or something?”

“No, I like Sam,” Anti said shortly. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have let them stay with me. Would’ve given them to one of you guys.”

“Okay, well, Sam and Jack are clearly a package deal, so what’s up?” Jackie folded his arms. “Because honestly? You’re being ridiculous. No, you’re being actively hostile. You weren’t like this with Marvin and JJ, you know. You weren’t like this with Stacy. What is it about Jack that’s causing this?”

Anti shifted on his feet, not looking at Jackie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flipping it open and closed a couple times.

“If you want to leave, you can leave,” Jackie continued. “You don’t have to stick it out. If you’re staying because you want to know more about Sam, then we’ll tell you later. But...I just want to know. Are you just having a bad day and taking it out on him? Because right now it looks like you’re actively trying to make him uncomfortable—”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” Anti blurted out.

Jackie blinked, then put his hands on his hips. “Anti.”

“Don’t use your Dad Voice on me, it’s not like—I could’ve said that better.” Anti took a deep breath, switching his knife to his other hand, where he continued to flip it open and closed. “It’s—he’s too nice. It’s...weird. Like—okay, you mentioned when we met Jackson and Marvin for the first time. You know how they reacted to my asshole comments? Marvin called me out on it, and Jackson...well, Jameson’s a really nice guy, but he at least looked surprised when I said something like that. You know, uh...what’s the phrase? Caught off guard. Taken aback. But Jack is just...nice. It’s freaky.”

“Maybe Sam just told him what to expect,” Jackie suggested.

“There’s a fuckton of difference between hearing something and experiencing something,” Anti pointed out. “I keep pushing him to get a normal reaction, and by now he should’ve blinked a couple times, o-or given me a weird glance, but he hasn’t, and it’s freaky. It’s—” He ran his free hand through his hair. “Is he trying to get me to like him? Why? Nobody’s that nice without wanting something from you.”

Jackie paused. Then he raised an eyebrow. “Well I mean...I’d say that I was ‘that nice’ to you when I kept showing up at your room in the hospital despite you actively telling me to fuck off.”

“I—that was different,” Anti insisted. “You’re a doctor, it makes sense for you to check on a patient.”

“I don’t think it was that different. I mean, I didn’t have to keep showing up, but I did.” Jackie walked up to Anti’s side and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed a bit, but when Jackie started to withdraw, he reached up and put his hand on top of his. “And Anti, I never wanted anything from you. I still don’t.”

Anti took another deep breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. “I—it’s just—I can’t—” He gave up, frustrated that he couldn’t put it into words.

“Do you want to leave?” Jackie asked.

“No. No, I don’t.”

“Are you good with Jack?”

“I won’t be as dickish,” Anti said carefully. “I’ll maintain my usual level of dickishness.”

Jackie laughed. “That’s fine. You ready to go back?”

“Yeah.”

“C’mon then.” Jackie smiled, and led Anti back to join the others.

———————

“Daaaad! Someone’s at the door!”

Anti turned around at the sound of Will’s voice. “I’ll be right there!” he called, quickly pausing the game he was playing and all the recording software. Who could that be? He checked his phone real quick, but didn’t see any messages from the others saying they were coming over. Then again, last time someone dropped by unexpectedly it was Marvin, mind-controlled by Distorter. He should probably answer. So he stood up and left his recording room.

Will was sitting at the kitchenette counter, swinging his legs while he munched on a bowl of grapes from the fridge. His plushie rabbit Brian was sitting on the stool next to him. The doorbell rang, and he helpfully pointed at it. “I got it, bud, don’t worry,” Anti said as he passed him.

He opened the door. And immediately wished he’d thought to look through the peephole first. Jack was standing outside, looking pretty much the same as he had a couple days ago when they met him for lunch. “Hi,” he waved. “Sorry for dropping in all of a sudden, but—”

“How’d you get this address?” Anti interrupted.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You gave it to me. I walked you here the first time we met. In the park, remember? I mean, I didn’t walk up here, but I asked a couple of your neighbors and—”

Anti groaned. “Those stupid—it’s my address, don’t give it away—what if someone wanted to kill me or something, dumbest move ever...” His complaints faded into angry muttering.

“They probably didn’t mean anything by it,” Jack said. “Anyway, I was—”

“Dad, who is it?” Will got off his stool, grabbing Brian as he did, and walked over to the door.

“Oh, uhhhhh...” Anti looked down at Will, now standing next to him, then back up at Jack. “This is...Jack. He’s...a new...friend.”

“You don’t make friends, Dad,” Will said.

“Well, friends make me, so it’s the same thing, really.”

Jack looked a bit shocked at first, but he quickly got over it. “Oh, so you’re Anti’s son? I should’ve known. Sam did say he had one. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will,” Will said, waving. “Do you want to come inside?”

“If your dad’ll let me.”

“I—” Anti sighed. “Yeah, step inside.”

“Thank you.” Jack didn’t walk too far into the apartment, hovering near the doorway as he looked around. “So this is your place?” For a moment, Sam peeked out from a gap in the zipper of his backpack, then they disappeared again. And Jack nodded, as if responding to someone. “Yeah, I see.”

“Sooo...why are you here?” Anti asked, closing the door.

“Oh, I wanted to see if you wanted to go somewhere,” Jack explained.

Anti fought the urge to glare at him suspiciously. “Why?”

Jack shrugged. “I just kinda felt like we got off on the wrong foot. Sam’s told me a lot about you, but I want to get to know you myself.”

Anti paused. “Is this a date? Because I don’t do romance, or...” He glanced at Will. “...the other stuff, either.”

“No, no no,” Jack hurried to say. “That’s cool, but I’m not into guys.”

“Oh good, we needed a token straight in the group.” Jack looked a bit surprised at that, and Anti just had to laugh. “Yeah, bet you weren’t expecting that.”

Jack laughed a little, too. “I mean, no. Goes to show how open-minded I should be. Anyway, not a date. Just sort of a friendly, let’s-talk-to-each-other thing.”

“Right.” That didn’t sound any more appealing. “Look, I was actually in the middle of work—”

“You should take a break, Dad,” Will interrupted. “You’ve been at the computer all day, and Mrs. Benson says you should limit your screen time.”

“I...well, she’s right,” Anti said carefully. “But this is for work.”

“You pause things all the time,” Will insisted. “Go have fun.”

Anti huffed. “I thought I was the parent here.” There was a bit of a smile on his face, though. “But speaking of that, I can’t just leave you on your own. And I can’t find a babysitter at the last minute like this.”

“I’m almost ten, Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“I...Will, honestly?” Anti bent over and whispered loudly. “It’s more for me than anything. I’d be worried, especially with what just happened.”

“Hmm.” Will’s face scrunched up as he thought up a solution to this problem. “Oh! You two can take me to Michelle’s house, first. There’s a bus stop close by!”

“I—Michelle’s ren might be busy, Will.”

“Then you should text them first.”

Jack smiled to himself. “Sounds like the kid’s got all the possible problems covered.”

Anti didn’t hold back on glaring at him this time. But, unfortunately, he was right. At this point, he couldn’t think of any more excuses to give to placate Will and his insistence that his dad have friends. “I wish you weren’t so smart sometimes, kid,” he muttered, straightening. “Alright, Highlighter Hair. Give me a minute to get everything ready then I guess I’ll go—where are we going?”

Jack paused. “Uhhh...well honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. You know what? I’m not that familiar with the city, anyway, where do you want to go?”

Oh. Anti hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked, considering the options. They’d just gone out for food, so he didn’t want to do that. A movie might be good, it would keep conversation from happening, but it also meant at least two hours out with Jack, and nothing good was playing, anyway. “We can just walk around,” he finally decided. “That’s fine.”

“Alright. Hey, you can show me some of the local sights!”

“Yeah. Sure. Now sit down while I wrap all my work stuff up.” Anti pointed at the sofa, and Jack quickly sat down, waiting patiently. He gave him one last look, then disappeared back into the recording room to shut everything down.

While in there, his eyes landed on the glass shelf where he kept his knife collection. After a moment’s hesitation, he unlocked the case and grabbed one, entirely black with a four-inch drop point blade. It came with a matching black sheathe, and he slipped the blade inside it, quickly grabbing his jacket with the largest pockets and putting the whole thing in the left pocket. Just in case. Of what, he wasn’t sure. But just in case.

———————

After taking the bus to Rama and Michelle’s house and dropping off Will, they ended up going to the shops. Not the more popular shopping district of the city, but the area on the west side that had a bunch of small shops in rows. Bookstores and art-and-crafts places, mostly, but there were also music shops, a video rental place, and a survival-type store that sold equipment like climbing ropes and sleeping bags. Jack seemed interested, and asked questions about what the shops were like, if Anti liked them. But eventually, the conversation topic turned to more personal matters.

“So, uh, Anti,” Jack said slowly, zipping up his jacket as a gust of wind made the chilly day even colder. “What do you like to do?”

Anti shrugged. “Hang out with the others. Do stuff with Will. Play video games. Normal shit.”

“Really? What’s your favorite game?”

“I like horror.”

“Oh I’ve played some horror before. Like what?”

Anti sighed. Jack’s questions were persistent. “There’s this game that came out like a year and a half ago that I like. It’s called Doki Doki Literature Club.”

Jack laughed a bit. “That’s a horror game?”

“Don’t fucking judge it by the title, okay?” Anti snapped. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I played it on request, and got gut-punched by what happens in the story.”

“Hey, I wasn’t saying anything!” Jack raised his hands.

“You laughed.”

“Well you got to admit, it sounds a bit out there. But I guess it’s one of those ‘subvert your expectations’ types.”

“Exactly.” Anti nodded. And to change the subject, he asked, “What’s your favorite game, then?”

Jack’s eyes lit up. “Have you ever heard of Shadow of the Colossus?”

“No.”

“Oh, dude. It’s so cool! It’s on the PlayStation, and you play as this guy called Wander trying to defeat these creatures called the Colossuses—Colossi? I can never remember. Anyway, you have to find each one and then...”

Anti let Jack ramble on for a while, occasionally nodding or asking a question to get him to keep going. The streets were pretty empty; it was late November and chilly, nobody wanted to be out walking. But there were quite a few cars driving past. Though after a while they turned onto a dead end, the street ending in a square paved with red bricks and lined with a few benches, a couple concrete planters holding thin, leafless trees. Jack headed over to one of the benches and sat down. Anti followed, and after a moment, sat down on the opposite end, leaving about two feet of space in between them.

“So did you never have a PlayStation or something?” Jack finally asked. “Oh, PlayStation 2, I should say. Cause lord knows there are a million of them now.”

“There’s just four,” Anti said, rolling his eyes. “And no. No Xbox, either, before you ask. Or SNES.”

“Man. That must’ve sucked. Were they not big on video games in—uh, where are you from?”

“Ireland.”

Jack let out a huff of laughter. “Well no shit, I mean what county are you from?”

“Which one are you from?”

“Offaly.”

“Oh, of fucking course you are,” Anti muttered. “I should’ve guessed you were a middle-of-nowhere type by your accent.”

“Hey, yours doesn’t sound that much different!” Jack said defensively. “I bet you’re also a middle-of-nowhere type. Where is it? Longford? Westmeath?”

Anti gave up. “The first one, actually.”

“Knew it!” Jack said triumphantly. Then he paused. His expression shifted as a thought occurred to him. “Hey, did you—this is a fucking wild question, and you don’t have to answer it, but...did you happen to know a Ciara McLoughlin?”

Anti suddenly stiffened. He’d been avoiding looking directly at Jack this whole time, but his head snapped over at him. “What was that name?”

“Ciara McLoughlin, middle name Lily, I think. It’s a bit out there, but—”

Before Jack could even finish that question, Anti lunged. He knocked both of them off the bench, and they landed on the ground with a single solid thump! as Anti pinned Jack. A faint green glow rolled out of the gap in Jack’s backpack zipper, but Anti didn’t care. He’d reached into his pocket and pulled out the knife he’d packed—still in its sheath, but a threatening display nonetheless. “Who fucking sent you?” he hissed.

“Wh-what?!” Jack was completely shocked, surprised by the reaction and a little scared of the covered blade Anti was poking into his chest.

“Who sent you!?” Anti repeated, snarling. “It was her, wasn’t it?! This is what you wanted, this is why you’ve been so weirdly fucking nice! How’d you find me?!”

“What are you talking about?!” The shock was fading into confusion, mixed with a healthy dose of nerves.

“You! You you you youuuu...youuuuu...” Anti shook his head. “You can’t fucking pretend anymore. How did you find me?! What does she want?! And why does she care now, of all times?!”

“Anti, please, calm down,” Jack pleaded, trying to keep his voice gentle. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about! I—what do you mean ‘she’? Do you mean Ciara?”

“Of course I do, who else would I mean?!” Anti demanded, pressing the sheathed blade a bit further. “And you need to stop being all confused like this, the jig is up, I knew it, I knew you weren’t just that friendly, it’s impossible, nobody’s like that, everyone needs something and I don’t know if it’s for your own sake or you’re doing this for her, but I know, I know now, I know why you’re like this, is it information? Is that what you want? Or are you going to try to convince me to go back? Either way, fuck you, you’re not getting either of those.”

Jack just gaped at Anti as he ranted, not moving. Then, out of nowhere, a bright green light flew up towards Anti’s eyes. Gasping, he leaned back, not dropping the knife but pulling it away from Jack long enough for him to sit up and scramble back. Sam bumped against Anti’s forehead, slapping his face with their nerve-tail as if to say ‘get a hold of yourself!’

“Fucking hell, dude,” Jack said, a bit out of breath. He ran his hand over the spot where the knife had been poking him, but luckily he just found a little imprint, no blood. “Sorry I brought it up.”

Anti pushed Sam away from his face and gave Jack a closer look. “You...really don’t know what...what I’m talking about?” he asked haltingly.

“No!” Jack shook his head furiously. “But I can figure it out! You clearly did know Ciara, and you clearly have some sort of issue with her. Did she do something to you?”

Anti didn’t answer. He looked down at the knife in his hand—oh god, if he hadn’t brought the sheath, he’d have—his hand opened and let the knife clatter to the bricked ground as he covered his eyes with his hands. His pulse was racing, loud enough for him to feel in his neck. God damn it. He had to get himself under control. Just...breathe. Take a moment to just focus on breathing.

“Sorry,” Jack repeated, softer this time. “I-I didn’t know it would...be like that.”

“Course you didn’t,” Anti muttered, lowering his hands and looking around. It was lucky nobody had seen that.

“No, really, I-I didn’t,” Jack insisted. “I...When you said you were from Longford, I remembered that she lived there, so I wondered if you knew about her.”

“How do you know her?” Anti rebutted.

“She was my aunt,” Jack explained, taking off his glasses to make sure they weren’t damaged. “And I didn’t really know her, she never visited the family or anything. But. Yeah. My dad’s sister.”

“Oh.” Anti fell silent for a moment. He didn’t know that Ciara had a brother. A brother with kids. How was it possible that she’d never mentioned them?! That was a massive thing to never—in all that time—Anti groaned and rubbed his head. God, this hurt him, almost physically. If he’d known that—if he’d just—well, the past was dead. He’d killed it. So there was no use thinking about what might have been. But something sounded...off. In the way Jack talked about her. “What do you mean, she ‘was’ your aunt?”

“Well.” Jack hesitated for a moment, then said, quite bluntly, “She’s dead, actually.”

“...oh.” Anti waited for a reaction to rise up within him. Some sort of emotion, good or bad. But he felt...empty. Though maybe that made sense. “When?”

“When I was like...seventeen or something. Over ten years ago now. She got hit by a car.” Jack paused again, but Anti didn’t say anything more. So he stood up, slowly, and Sam flew around him. “I’m fine, Sam, don’t worry. No, nothing. Really.” Sam, worried, curled up in their usual spot on his shoulder.

“...Sorry,” Anti mumbled. “About the whole...thing. With the knife. I didn’t—I didn’t actually want to hurt you.”

Jack nodded. “Just don’t do it again.” He offered a hand, and after a moment, Anti took it, letting Jack pull him up. “Hey, uh...you’re probably not gonna answer this, but...are you okay with...telling me how you knew her?”

“No.” Anti shut down the notion immediately. He wasn’t about to share that whole mess with basically a stranger, when his close friends only knew the barest of details.

“Right, right. Sorry.” Jack took a step back, giving Anti some space. “Um...can I tell you something? I think you picked up on this, anyway, but...I’m not just a drummer. I do do that, but it’s to help pay expenses and stuff, you know?”

Anti’s shoulders raised. “What are you, a cop?”

“No! God no, I couldn’t do that,” Jack hurried to say. He took a deep breath, then continued. “There’s...not really a name for it, I think. But Sam and I travel around and...we help people. Not like a vigilante or anything, I hear you guys have one in this city? We don’t do stuff like that. I mean more...you know, mentally.”

“You’re a therapist?” Anti asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, not really.” Jack shook his head. “Though I guess I could be. I’d just need to go back to school and shit. I just...support people. Kinda encourage them. If any of this makes sense. Like, i-if you’re having a hard time and your house is messy, but you can’t find the energy to clean, I can do that for you. Or if you need to talk to someone to get something off your chest. Again, I’m not a therapist, but I can listen and give advice.”

Anti suddenly laughed. “You’re a life coach?! Oh my god, Highlighter Hair. You do not look the part.”

“That’s still not—” Jack sighed. “Okay, look. Sam’s been staying with you guys for a while, right? They have this ability, this...this feeling they get, sometimes, that they need to do something. What happens is they can sort of tell where we’re needed next, but a few weeks ago, they got this feeling, and they could tell they needed to go alone. So, they headed here. And...they found you guys. And they could tell something was immediately wrong. Your...your kids went missing, right?” Jack asked that last part slowly, cautiously.

“...yeah,” Anti muttered.

“Right. And you were all going through it.” Jack glanced down at Sam. “And if they’d told me where they were going, I could’ve been here to help with that, but apparently they suddenly needed to leave right then in the middle of the night.” Sam swished their tail. Somehow, they looked guilty.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Anti sighed. Actually, he probably understood more than Jack or Sam knew. He’d run into Sam the night of the kids’ disappearance, the night when he’d...had a breakdown. Just like he used to, years ago. And just like years ago, he might’ve continued on those random wanderings, out of his mind, if Sam hadn’t showed up and kept breaking up the routine. They’d probably saved him, in a way. Just like Jackie had, years ago, when he kept showing up in the hospital room of a nobody who didn’t care for him. “So...the real reason you guys are here is to fix us.”

“Don’t use that word,” Jack said firmly. “Nobody in your group is broken, you just need a little bit of help.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Right.”

“I’m serious, I—” Jack sighed.

“Right. Just like you don’t want anything from us. How much are you offering for this?”

“I don’t charge for this,” Jack said. “We just...do it. Because some people need it.” He folded his arms. “Like you, Mr. I’ll-Threaten-You-With-A-Knife-For-Mentioning-This-Lady.”

“I said sorry,” Anti insisted.

“Are you sure you should be carrying knives around if that’s how you’ll react?”

“I—shut the fuck, up, I—I need to.” Anti realized his hands were shaking, so he folded his arms as well. “And usually, that doesn’t happen. I’ve just been—”

“A bit stressed lately?” Jack prompted.

Anti closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply for a long, long time. Then he let out his breath, equally slowly. “Does the rest of the group know about your life coaching?”

“It’s not life—I was going to explain it next time I saw them,” Jack said.

“Cool. Go see them now, there’s enough time left in the day for that. And if they still like you after that, then I guess you can hang around.” Of course they’d still like him after knowing that. It was the kind of people they were. Marvin and Schneep might be a bit upset that Jack didn’t tell them immediately, but they’d get over it. JJ would insist on including Jack in more group activities. Maybe Jackie would, too. Actually, he could see the two of them having a lot in common. Fitting that their names were almost the same, then.

Jack smiled widely. “Great! Glad to hear that.”

“Hear what? I’m telling you that my tolerance of your presence depends on what the others think.”

“Yeah, that’s great! I mean, c’mon, you haven’t exactly been welcoming. Or hiding the fact that you weren’t welcoming. So that’s a step up.”

Well he had a point there. Anti bent over and picked up his knife from where it had landed, slowly slipping it back into his pocket and buttoning it closed. He turned to leave. “Well, I’ll be going now. You can find a bus stop by yourself.”

“Sure,” Jack nodded. “I’ll be seeing you, then?”

Anti paused. Then he turned back. “And another thing. Don’t fucking analyze me without me saying. Believe it or not, I actually minored in psych, so I don’t have any fucking patience for armchair psychology from someone who probably only did a few searches on the Internet and is armed with just some sort of—of great attitude and a nosy want to help people.”

“I don’t do that stuff, Anti,” Jack reasserted. “But...don’t worry. If you don’t want help, I won’t offer. Unless it looks...bad.”

That sounded like it was as good a promise as he was going to get. Anti turned back around and started walking back down the street they’d come from. Jack called “Bye!” after him, and he raised a hand in response.

A few streets later, he found a bus stop for a line that he didn’t think Jack would take, and sat down to wait. And the moment he did, everything that just happened started bombarding his thoughts. Sam’s friend was some sort of...travelling...mental...helper. Who showed up here because he wanted to help the group with their problems. Sure. That made sense. And this guy was also her nephew. Who he didn’t know even existed, despite all the reasons he should have known. “God...fuck,” he muttered, looking up into the sky.

If Jack was going to be so present in their lives, how long would it take him to figure out...everything? Everything about Anti? The very thought raised a sense of panic in his chest.

No, Jack wouldn’t know. He’d make sure of it.

Well, Anti had to acknowledge one thing. Jackie was right; this new guy hadn’t wanted anything from them. He wanted to give something to them. That thing being some sort of help. That was...unexpected. In Anti’s experience, people didn’t offer aid for nothing in return. Or at least, they rarely did, as Jackie had reminded him the other day.

As the bus approached in the distance, Anti stood up, making sure the driver could see him. While getting on, he reflected that there was one thing he could count on: they’d be seeing a lot more of Jack in the future.

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