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fandomnsfw · 2 years ago

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Doll House - Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Prompt: Doll House by Melanie Martinez

Warning: None really...a little blood I guess? Mainly Fluff

Thank you to my Beta @lets-imagine-fanfics once again for fixing my screw ups! XD

ENJOY!!

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You walked into the school, a smile firmly placed on your face as the girls spoke about their weekend. Jenny was talking about her date with Mark while Anna was laughing about something Hayley had said. You spotted your brother across the hall and waved as the girls started swooning over him.

“Hey, big bro. How was practice?” You asked with a sweet smile.

“It was good. Hey, what time is mom co-”

“Yo, Xavier, you forgot your phone!” You heard a voice exclaim as he spluttered out the changing room.

“Thanks, Stilinski.” Your brother laughed before pocketing his phone.

“Hi Y/N.” Stiles muttered with a grin.

“Hi, Stiles.” You giggled as he ran his hands through his hair which was still wet, from what you guessed was the showers. You walked off with the other girls who instantly started gossiping about your brother.

“I dunno about Xavier but Stiles got hot recently.” Anna sighed, fanning herself before bursting into a fit of laughter along with the other girls.

“Anna’s right, Stilinski buffed up and grew his hair out. He looked like the perfect guy, I mean if you get rid of the spazziness.” Jenny snorted, as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

“I gotta go grab something from my car before class, I’ll see you later!” You exclaimed cheerfully before making your way to your car.

You took out a packet of cigarettes lighting one up before taking a much-needed drag. You felt yourself instantly relax. It wasn’t like you hated your friend it’s just they were very superficial and you had enough superficial people in your life to know that you’d never have true friends as long as you kept them around. You glanced at your phone as you took another drag from the cigarette.

Mom - ‘Going out tonight won’t be back till late. Use the credit card to eat out.’

Dad – ‘Working late tonight.’

You snorted as you read your parent’s texts before throwing your phone into your Prada handbag. As you took another drag you heard someone speak from behind you.

“You know that’s bad for you right?” You’d recognise that voice anywhere. That voice was attached to the man you’d fantasised about on a regular basis. Stiles Stilinski.

“You know it’s rude to pry right?” You snarled as you took another drag.

“Oh, so now that your friends and brother aren’t round you show your true colours.” He snorted sarcastically.

“No, more like I don’t feel the need to act like a fake Barbie doll now my friends aren’t around.” You sighed as crouched down.

“I used to know someone like you.” He chuckled, as he squatted down in front of you.

“Lydia Martin.” You huffed with a laugh.

“The love of Stiles Stilinski’s life.” You added sarcastically.

“Oh, so you heard about that?” Stiles laughed, running his hands through his slowly drying hair.

“Everyone knows. It’s also like everyone knows not to touch Lydia now because it’s like a written law that you two will end up together. Small town. People gossip.” You scoffed irritably.

“Lydia’s in love with someone else. I’m over her. We’re friends. I know you were dating Kieran and everyone kept saying you two were the perfect couple that you’d marry each other straight outta high school but last week you broke up.” Stiles retaliated softly with a sad smile.

“He didn’t know the real me. Seemed cruel to keep leading him on.” You muttered with a frown as you thought about your parent’s marriage.

To everyone in this town your family was perfect and rich but behind closed curtains, your entire family was fucked. Your brother smoked weed constantly, your mother was an alcoholic and your father was a cheating piece of shit that brought his mistresses home.

It’s not a family if you have to pretend.

“You’re different from what I thought.” Stiles whispered, more to himself than you.

“Why? Because I’m not perfect?” You huffed with a dark laugh.

“No. You seem less…Doll-like…I feel like when I see you I’m staring at a fragile doll-like if I touch you or stare too long you’ll break.” Stiles sighs sadly, causing you to stare at him in shock. He hit the nail on the head. You put out your cigarette before glancing up at him with a sad smile.

“Sometimes the things that go on behind closed doors are things that have to be hidden for the sake of the family.” You replied the words taken from something your mother once told you.

“If you can’t be true to yourself then you’re not living. You’re just breathing.” Stiles shot you a sympathetic smile that should have pissed you off but somehow it made you smile back.

“My mom drinks…” You started as you stared at the ground.

“She does it to forget my dad’s infidelity.” You laughed your tone dark and hateful.

“That’s fucked up, dude.” Stiles huffed angrily.

“You’re telling me…My brother started smoking weed last year to deal with it but now it’s like half the time I see him…He’s fucking stoned out his mind.” You whispered, the pain now evident in your voice.

“I’m the first person you’ve told about this aren’t I?” Stiles muttered as he stood up, holding his hand out so he could help you up.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you with your friends…You’re loyal. I feel like I can trust you.” You stated as you stared into his eyes looking for any sign you’d just fucked up by telling another person about your fake family.

“I won’t tell a soul.” Stiles chuckled a big grin on his face.

“Thanks, Stiles. You’re lucky to have friends and a dad like the Sheriff.” You commented shyly.

“You know my dad?” Stiles commented confusion in his voice.

“Yeah, he’s brought back my brother stoned or drunk a few times. Your dad never books him for it because I have a feeling he has an idea what goes on behind closed doors. He’s a good man.” You muttered softly as you remembered the conversation you had with the Sheriff.

“Thanks. I think so too.” Stiles huffed proudly. You giggled at his expression before walking off.

“Bye Stilinski!” You chuckled over your shoulder earning an excitable wave from the boy in return.

Over the next few weeks you hung out with Stiles after school, occasionally some days he couldn’t come due to plans with his friends but if he couldn’t hang he’d text you constantly. You’d grown closer and it made you happy to be able to talk to someone about your problems.

You got out of your car grabbing your white leather Chanel handbag before spotting Stiles’ jeep pull up. You looked around to check that your friends or brother weren’t about before running up to him and jumping on his back, not realising Scott was at the other side of the car.

“Good morning Sti.” You giggled as you kissed his cheek.

“Good morning princess.” He retorted sarcastically before glancing at Scott who was now staring with wide eyes.

“Stiles, why is Xavier’s baby sister kissing you?” Scott muttered making you now very aware of his presence.

“I-I only kissed his cheek I m-mean…It’s not l-like I…ya know.” You stuttered nervously as you looked around to check no one else had noticed the display.

“Hey, Y/N, breath he’s just shocked. He doesn’t care.” Stiles chuckled softly as he ruffled your hair, earning a glare from you as you fixed your hair.

“No, I don’t mind, just wondered. I didn’t realise you two were friends…Wait! Is this the girls you’ve been texting constantly, that’s had you smiling every 5 seconds.” Scott laughed as he pointed at Stiles with an amused face.

“No!” Stiles shouted quickly.

“No!?” You snapped angrily as you glared at him.

“I mean yes!” Stiles corrected earning an eye roll from both you and Scott.

“How come you never talk in school?” Scott asked causing you to freeze.

“I didn’t wanna drag her down to my nerd depths.” Stiles chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Scott’s right, we should talk in school too!” You exclaimed as your heart started thumping nervously.

“Y/N, you don’t have to-”

“No, come on you can walk me to my locker!” You giggled plastering a fake smile on your face which you were sure Stiles could decipher by now. You linked arms with him and began walking towards the school.

“Ha! No.” Stiles shook his arm out of yours shocking you and Scott.

“I am not walking in there linking arms. I’ll look like your new gay bestie!” Stiles exclaimed dramatically causing you and Scott to burst out laughing. He threw his arm over your shoulder with a grin.

“And walking in like you’re my new Bae is better?” You snorted as you wrapped your arm around his waist.

“Don’t ever say Bae again or I’ll disown you but yes it's better.” Stiles laughed sarcastically, earning a slap to his chest from you.

“I’d rather you really were my boyfriend but ya know.” You muttered under your breath.

You walked into school with Stiles’ arm slung around you and it took all of 5 seconds before the whispers started. You kept your head up knowing if you lowered it, people would think you had something to be ashamed of.

Scott glanced at you with wide eyes as if asking if you were okay but you just sent him a smile. He walked you to your locker where your friends were waiting. He gave you a hug before kissing your forehead.

“Laters, princess.” He chuckled as you shot him a heart-warming smile.

“Bye.” You whispered shyly and once he was gone the hyenas were on you so fast, you almost didn’t even see them move.

“You’re dating Stiles!?” Jenny whisper yelled with wide eyes.

“No.” You muttered quietly wishing you could say yes.

“Then why did he call you princess and kiss you!?” Anna questioned angrily.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You answered sweetly, trying to stop yourself from strangling each and every one of them. You ignore the rest of the questions and head to class as you took deep breaths and tried to calm down.

When lunch came around you were worn out from all the questions from other students had been asking, so when lunch came around you went to the cafeteria and took your food to Stiles’ table. You looked around the table seeing no chairs so you just sat on Stiles’ knee. He made no comment as you started eating your lunch but you could see every one of his friend staring at you.

“Why is Xavier’s sister sitting at our table?” Liam asked quietly.

“I have a name too, Dunbar.” You huffed angrily as you shot him a frown.

“Y/N, right?” Lydia asked sassily.

“Yes, Lydia.” You answered just as sassily.

“Woah! What happened to make you all pissy?” Stiles asked as he looked into your eyes.

“Nothing.” You sighed as you looked away from his intense gaze.

“Oh no, we’re not doing this again, princess. Tell me.” Stiles sighed his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’ve been hounded none stop since this morning and I really want a smoke but I promised you I wouldn’t.” You pouted as you glanced at him briefly. Stiles nodded before picking up a fry and holding it to your lips without any more questions.

“My question is why is she sat on Stiles’ knee?” Malia growled causing you to freeze. You remembered her and Stiles dating for a while but you were sure they’d broken up. Maybe you’d been wrong.

“Why does that matter?” Jackson huffed obnoxiously.

“There were no seats and Stiles is single and obviously her friend.” Ethan added earning a nod from Scott.

You tried not to smile so you shoved another chip in your mouth. Stiles tucked your hair behind your ear sweetly before holding out his water bottle for you. You took it with a thank you before taking a sip. The rest of lunch went like this, though I could tell his friends felt a little awkward. Stiles reassured you they just had to get used to you.

After you walked to your locker with him, he placed his hand to the side of your head against the locker. You glanced at him in suspicion before he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

“Your girlfriends are staring from behind their books.” Stiles chuckled against your ear, sending shiver straight down your spine.

“What, so you thought you’d make my life harder to explain by making it look like your whispering dirty shit in my ear.” You whispered back, purposely brushing your lips against his ear. He pulled back biting his lower lip to try and hide his smile.

“I mean if you’d like me to make it easier I could totally whisper dirty things in your ear?” Stiles stated with a smirk. You let out a little snort even though you knew your cheeks were likely red but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The rest of the day was filled with more questions and gossip but after spending lunchtime with Stiles you didn’t care. You head was filled with thoughts of him. Stiles had asked if you wanted to have dinner at his but you’d yet to go to Stiles’ house and you were honestly nervous. Would his dad be home? Would his dad like you even though he’d basically arrested your brother more times than you could count?

At the end of the day, you followed Stiles home in your car with a nauseous feeling in your stomach from nerves but you ignored it as you pulled up and got out with your handbag. Stiles slung his arm over your shoulder which made you laugh remembering earlier in the day.

You walked into his house following him to what turned out to be the kitchen. He grabbed two soda’s passing you one silently before his dad walked into the kitchen clearly shocked to see you in his kitchen drinking soda.

“Hi, Y/N.” The Sheriff greeted with a small smile.

“Hi, Sheriff.” You greeted politely, which made his smile widen.

“Please call me Noah. I didn’t know you and Stiles were friends?” He questioned as he pulled out a bottle of water.

“It’s a new development.” You laughed as Stiles looked between you and his dad quietly.

“Oh, are you the new girl my son has been goi-”

“Okaaaaay! That’s enough of that pops.” Stiles exclaimed with a glare.

“Well, it’s good to see Stiles dating again.” The Sheriff huffed with a proud smile.

“Oh, we’re not dating!” You squeaked with a blush.

“God, no need to sound so offended.” Stiles snorted sarcastically.

“The whole school thinks we’re dating if I was offended I’d correct them.” You replied, sticking out your tongue childishly.

“Why does the whole school think your dating?” The Sheriff asked with a raised brow.

“Cos Stiles put his arm over my shoulder when we went into school today, then at lunch he p-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH OF THAT!” Stiles shouted rather loudly causing you to jump.

“Well, that sounds like an eventfully day.” The Sheriff chuckled you nodded cheerfully as he started asking about the rest of your day.

You sat in the living room with the Sheriff while Stiles made tea. His words were fatherly and caring which made you smile down at your lap happily. He asked about your brother which you awkwardly answered but he didn’t judge you or bring it up after that.

“So, you like my son?” The Sheriff questioned as he stared at you over his coffee.

“W-What?” You squealed a blush making its way to your face for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“He may be blind but I’m not.” The Sheriff chuckled causing you to laugh.

“Yeah…He’s sweet and he accepts me for who I am even though my family is screwed up. He’s very affectionate too.” You giggle as you remember all the forehead kisses and hugs he’s given you.

“It appears you’re just as blind as my son.” The Sheriff mumbled making your eyes widen as if you’d miss heard it.

“Pardon?” You asked politely.

“Nothing, anyway Stiles should be done soon why don’t we go and sit in the dining room?” The Sheriff asked with a smile. You gave him a nod and followed after him.

You sat down at the table with the Sheriff as Stiles served up lasagne. After he’d done he stroked your hair. You looked up at him and he kissed your forehead quickly before sitting down. You smiled happily as you dug into the food. Stiles cooking was beyond amazing, which honestly didn’t shock you because you knew his dad worked a lot and his mom wasn’t around so you figured Stiles knew how to cook.

“This is really good!” He exclaimed with a giggle.

“It’s my mom’s recipe she taught me how to make it.” Stiles muttered with a smile. You leant over and ran your fingers through his hair before caressing his cheek with your thumb. He glanced over at you with a grin and nodded to you letting you know he’s was fine.

“You two are so sweet!” You heard a female voice come from behind you. You turned round to see Scott and Mrs McCall stood there.

“Mrs McCall!” You giggled as you ran over to give her a hug.

“Hi, sweetie. I didn’t know you and Stiles had started dating.” You let out a dramatic whine as the Sheriff and Stiles started laughing.

“How do you know my mom?” Scott asked as he sat down with a plate of lasagne.

“Ermm well…” You flushed as you awkwardly pushed your food around.

“Y/N wants to be a nurse when she gets older.” Mrs McCall supplied while wiping sauce off the Sheriff's cheek causing him to grin.

“Really? You never told me that.” Stiles gasped as he reached out to hold your hand.

“This town is kinda accident prone so I want to be able to help people.” You giggled but for some reason everyone froze, causing you to frown. You felt like there was something you should know but you decided to leave it for now and ask Stiles later.

A few seconds later there was a knock at the door you stood telling them you’d get it but what stood at the door shocked you to your core. There stood Jackson and Ethan holding a bleeding man that looked vaguely familiar.

“Oh my god! Get him in here!” You screamed urgently.

“Stiles, can you get me warm water, alcohol and a towel please!” You screamed as they laid the man down on the couch.

“Wh- OH MY GOD, DEREK!” Stiles screamed as he ran up to the man.

“STILES TOWEL, WATER, ALCOHOL GO!” You screamed as you ripped off Derek’s shirt seeing several slash wounds it looked like an animal had mauled him.

“MELISSA, I NEED YOUR HELP!” You screamed as you took off your cardigan and held it to the worst wound. Melissa ran in with Stiles following. You took the towel and water before cleaning most of the blood when you’d done you grabbed the alcohol and looked up at Jackson and Scott.

“Hold him down.” Was all you needed to say before you began cleaning the wounds with alcohol the man thrashed around and roared but right now the fact that this man had glowing blue eyes wasn’t a problem or something you could get scared of, right now you needed to stop his bleeding.

“Ethan, hold his legs.” You screamed as his legs started kicking around.

“Melissa, hold this for now.” You said pointing to the cardigan on the vastly bleeding cut.

“I need you to tell me how to help him. He’s obviously not human and right now I have no idea whether I should call an ambulance or wait.” You sighed as you looked at Stiles.

“Werewolf. He’ll heal fast.” Stiles muttered but instead of questioning you nodded and turned to the Sheriff.

“I need a needle, lighter and thread. Even if he heals faster, it’s not going to stop bleeding until I close it.” You stated softly before turning to Melissa.

“I think we should stitch this one then bandage his torso just until the bleeding stops.” You muttered softly as if asking for her approval.

“Well done, Y/N.” She muttered in a soft motherly tone that made you smile.

After Melissa stitched him up and bandaged him, Derek passed out. You picked up the remaining vodka and took a swing earning a raised eyebrow from the Sheriff. You stood up and crossed your arms.

“I just tended to a bleeding dying man who turned out to be a werewolf. I think I deserve it.” You sighed before turning to Stiles.

“Explain. Now.” You snapped angrily. You weren’t angry because Stiles associated with werewolves you were angry because he didn’t tell you. You had thought he trusted you.

“That is Derek Hale. He’s a werewolf.” He stated simply with an awkward smile.

“That much I already figured out myself, thanks. How many of your friends are wolves?” You sighed knowing that going back a few years Stiles wouldn’t have been seen dead with Jackson but now it was like they had mutual trust.

“That’s not my secret to tell.” Stiles sighed softly.

“Scott, your one right?” You questioned as you turned to him.

“How?”

“My brother has been playing lacrosse with you since freshmen year. You don’t think I noticed when you went from asthmatic and benched to first line with perfect health and reflexes?” You snorted before turning to Jackson and Ethan.

“Ethan and his brother turned up when people started dying last year. I’m gonna go with your one and Jackson…You and Stiles used to hate each other and now you seem to have this weird mutual understanding. So I’m gonna go with you too. So that leaves you.” You pointed to Stiles.

“What, you can’t suss me out?” Stiles chuckled with his arms crossed.

“No, I can’t.” You muttered angrily as you glanced at Melissa you way wiping away Derek’s sweat.

“Derek Hale. Cora Hales big brother and has an Uncle called Peter. The family died in a fire 12 years ago.” You muttered as you stared at the man.

“How do you know that?” Stiles asked suspiciously.

��Laura used to babysit me…” You whispered sadly as you remembered hearing about her death nearly 2 years ago.

“Derek probably doesn’t remember me. We only met once or twice.” You snorted as you remembered the huge crush you used to have on him.

“I used to have a huge crush on him. He’s grown a lot since I saw him so I didn’t recognise him until you said his name.” You muttered as you remembered all the times Laura teased you.

“Why does everyone seem to like Derek Hale!?” Stiles grumbled childishly.

“Because he’s hot.” You, Melissa, Ethan and Jackson said at the same time.

“Objectifying a man while he’s passed out from blood loss. Classy, Y/N.” You heard a gruff voice mumbled. You looked down to see Derek with one eye open.

“I was taught by the best.” You chuckled before you felt an arm wrap around you. You looked to see Stiles glaring at Derek who raised an eyebrow at you.

“No, we’re not dating!” You snapped at him but he sent you a smirk.

“Shut up, I don’t need your opinionated facial expressions, Hale.” You huffed as Stiles snorted next to you, before kissing your temple affectionately

“You grew up.” Derek huffed

“I feel old.” He added making you laugh.

“So who runs the pack?” You asked softly as you glanced at Stiles. Stiles raised an eyebrow at you as if asking how you’d know that a pack needs a leader.

“I read a lot of werewolf romance novels, okay? Don’t judge me!” You huffed with a blush as everyone laughed at you.

“That would be me.” Scott chuckled but his answer had your jaw hitting the floor.

“Scott McCall is an Alpha?” You gasped.

Months after finding out you’d been accepted into the pack as another human member. You had settled in with everyone else, you finally stopped caring about fake friends and pretending to be someone else.

You were currently sat at a pack meeting with Scott talking away about a pack that had asked permission to pass through. You’d zoned out to stare at Stiles who was sat next to Scott with a serious expression. He ran his hands through his hair before biting his lip in what looked to be stressed out manner.

Once the meeting was over you grabbed yourself a water from Derek’s kitchen with a sigh. You wanted to tell Stiles how you felt but you had no idea how. Maybe you should just kiss him? Or jump his bones?

You laughed at the thought, earning a raised eyebrow from Derek who had come to put the coffee pot on. You shot him a grin before skipping back to the living room. The pack were setting up a film so you sought out Stiles, spotting him sat in the corner of one of the couches.

You sat on his knee then looked up at him with a smile which he returned. You decided while the pack was busy you’d make your move. You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before turning to the film with a blush creeping up your neck. However, as you finally started calming your heart, you were picked up.

“We’ll be back in a minute.” Stile stated as he carried you to the kitchen bridal style.

“Wanna tell me what just happened?” Stile asked seriously which honestly scared you.

“I-I kissed you?” You supplied, though it came out more like a question.

“Why?” He asked just as seriously as before.

“Because I like you…if not m-more than th-that…” you stuttered your blush coming back tenfold. Just as you were about to get down Stiles cupped both your cheeks and planted a passionate kiss on your lips before pulling back and gazing into your eyes.

“Thank god. I’ve wanted to do that for forever.” Stiles sighed before placing another kiss on your lips.

“Would you do the honour of being my official girlfriend?” Stiles muttered with a small hopeful smile.

“I would love to Sti.” You giggled happily.

#Stiles #Stilinski #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x you #stiles x you #teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #reader #reader insert #fluff

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 3 years ago

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one of the main reasons i dropped out of my online postgrad course is because i kept looking at my ever-mounting student debt that people were telling me not to pay off bc “save your money now!” but like….. bro. i have $42,500 of fucking study debt already… and i’d like to start to pay at least $250 off each semester at least… and why can’t i have a job during uni??? when ironically that’s all grad employers actually give a shit about….. whether or not you’ve had a stable or multiple stable jobs through uni….. and not really about the bs mark requirements of at least distinction level (75%+). so now i have 3 loads of study debt and i’m pretty unemployable according to the bs that grad employers spin all bc i’ve never had a job. like fuck man.

and for the first couple of short “sems”/terms of this library course i was actually doing pretty well, still doing everything at the last minute and pulling 65-74 marks…. but the ever present need to get a job to slowly begin to pay off my student debt and people in my life being all like “no! don’t get a job it’ll ruin how you’re going with uni… just continue going steady as she goes” just made me have a mental breakdown. besides the point that the same people were constantly pushing me to go onto the masters program bc “it’s internationally recognised!!! what if you want to take a job in the US or canada????then your grad diploma will be useless!!!” but like… i KNEW if i went on to do masters i’d try to do a 20,000 word dissertation (or however long it was idek now lmao) all in one go the night before it was due, with no proper editing (bc is do editing while i was writing with grammarly which would fuck up my writing even more lmao)…. poor referencing in like i think APA or MLA both of which i fucking LOATHED bc i just couldn’t grasp them (and i could never grasp MLA in undergrad either)…. so i just gave up. even though i was going pretty well.

also the other main reason i dropped that course was bc i tried to do my first ever 3,000 word assignment (bc i purposely avoided any subjects in UG that had assignments of over 2,500 words tbh) at the last minute, about 8hrs before it was due bc i was just so used to doing all of my work like that. but it was a lot more than i’d anticipated and i’d presented it all wrong so i got like a 51 or something.

besides the point that i was sick and tired of lying through my teeth writing fake scenarios for my assignments and not knowing if they’d work irl bc i’d never worked in a library, let alone worked at all. and i also had a mental freak out over the work placement that was meant to go for a week bc “why the fuck would you ever trust me… ME…. to ever be a fucking professional…. bc everyone knows i’m too fucking STUPID to do that???!!! just let me be a kid again even though i’m 24 lmao” . like yeah. it was hellish fucked and i’m glad i dropped out in the end.

College is wild because it really isn’t about intelligence or the ability to understand the material at all. It’s literally just a test of executive function and abled-ness. I had good attendance. I participated in class discussions…possibly to an annoying extent, I got A’s on my tests. When we did group work in classes, it was usually me knowing the answers and everyone else just writing them down from my paper.

But I watched those same people who copied my in-class work and who barely passed tests and who only understood the material enough to regurgitate it, not to expand on it, graduate while I flunked out. Why? Because I didn’t have the executive function to do homework outside of class. That’s it.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona makes a big rant/story/diatribe etc on a big post #uni #uni life #the second prof reminds me of the irritating first year intro to creative class prof i had in 2017 #like bro sometimes the free bus is late but yet you’re going to call people out when they’re 10 mins late to you 8:30am lecture #go fuck yourself lmao #and also at the end of that sem where he purposely ‘saved’ me a seat in the front row to be all sarcastic #fuck off luke i don’t have fuckin time to deal with your bs at 8 in the morning #and then shaming me in front of the class bc i didn’t do the in class task on hemingway….#….for like 10% of the classwork mark so then i just relied on the 1st kid who i shared it with that week to do the entire mini presentation #and asshole prof dude was all like ‘i’m very disappointed in you gwladys’ like i’m not 10 and bro you still gave me a distinction at the end #so shut the fuck up you’re a pos #and also when he told me i was ‘cheating’ when i just KNEW he’d selected twilight to go next to fuckin moby dick #which i’ll never fucking forget. bc bro. i just. if you were high school in 2008 #you just fucking KNOW the voices of bella swan and edward cullen off pat #like excuse me you gave me war flashbacks at 8:30am which i didn’t fucking need #don’t you DARE tell me i’m cheating like fuck you #and also just generally i didn’t like most of my philosophy profs either #but that’s a whole other tags rant #the ‘people in my life means my dad tbh’

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weebswrites · 4 years ago

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Hey! I recently came across your blog and I love your Obey me! HC so much☺️☺️ if its okay could I request the Obey me! Brothers + dateables reacting to MC hugging them, nuzzling closer and then saying “you smell like home”🥺🥺 thank you!!💕

The Demon Bros & Undatables: Reacting to MC calling them home :’)

Lucifer

• You’ve had a long day, and Lucifer is the only one who you know can cheer you up

• So you go to his office, walking in without knocking first, something you only did when you really needed him (which he knew)

• When he hears his door open he looks up with irritation, but then seeing it’s you he gets up and walks over to you with his arms open

• “MC, what’s wrong” his voice is soft and reaffirming, and you let yourself be wrapped in his arms

• You don’t answer at first, just listening to his heartbeat in his chest and enjoying the smell of his cologne

• “You smell like home” you whisper against his chest, and at that moment he swears he’s never felt love stronger than what he feels for you

• He does Not tear up. No sir not him!

• He tightens his arms around you a bit and kisses the top of your head, truly speechless at what to say

• “Then stay with me forever” he whispers, and you nod into his chest

Mammon

• He’s walking you back to your room in the HoL after the two of you got dinner together, and you’re chatting about the meal and how the waitress you had was really pretty

• You arrive at your door, and you turn towards Mammon and hug him tightly, your head resting against his shoulder

• “Mmm, you smell like home” you comment to yourself, realizing after a second that he definitely heard you

• Big blush boy wraps his arms around you tighter than he ever had before

• “Sheesh MC, you’re gonna make me blush” he jokes, but his heart felt like it could explode he was so happy

• You hug for longer than the two of you usually did and you both fell asleep thinking about each other :)

Leviathan

• You were laying in his bed, his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him, watching the newest episode of an anime

• You zoned out during the commercial break, resting your head against his chest

• “You smell like home, Levi”

• If you think Mammon blushed, you have no idea how hard Levi blushed

• He didn’t know what to say, and you thought you could feel the heat from the blush on his face

• You looked up at him and sure enough, his face was redder than you’d ever seen it

• You kissed his cheek, figuring you might as well really make him blush ✨

• He honestly blacked out a little lol

Satan

• You were reading in the library with him, you head on his lap as the two of you read your respective books

• It was getting late, so you closed your book and turned towards him, snuggling in his lap and closing your eyes

• His hand fell against your head, and he played with your hair as he continued to read

• “Home..” you whispered, a small smile crossing your face

• “Hm?” he hinted for you to repeat yourself

• “You smell like home” you repeated, opening your eyes and looking up at him

• He tried not to blush, but you knew him well enough you could see though his facade

• He held your gaze for a moment before moving his hand down to cup your face, eyes saying more than his words ever could

Asmodeus

• You’re spending the night in his room after a self care night, currently choosing which movie to fall asleep to (or talk through the night to)

• You decide on a meodicre movie from the human world, so it wouldn’t keep your attention too seriously

• He opens his arms for you, and you snuggle against him

• “Asmodeus...” you start

• “Yes?” he looked to you smiled

• “You smell like home” you pressed a light kiss to his chest and laid your head back down

• He was silent for a moment, then speaking “I’m glad you feel safe here, in my arms, MC”

• You end up talking about your lives throughout the night (yk one of the chats you have with someone until like four am about anything and everything)

Beelzebub

• You’re leaning against his arm in the kitchen as he snakcs, rambling to him about how frustrating classes had been

• “Mmm, but you smell like home, so I feel way better now that I’m with you” you end your rant and wrap an arm around his, holding onto him tightly

• He’s so touched :’)

• He isn’t great with words, though, so he leans over and kisses the top of your head and offers to make you your favorite food from the human world (or have it delivered)

• You smile into him, “That’d be great, Beel. Thank you”

Belphegor

• You whisper it as you’re falling asleep with him after a long day of classes and errands for Lucifer

• “You smell like home...”

• Not much wakes him up when he’s about to fall asleep, but a confession like this does the trick

• He wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder (or the back of your neck if you’re comfortable with that)

• “Thank you, MC” he whispers to you as you drift into a nap

Diavolo

• He’s working late into the night again, but he finished all his paperwork early so he can sit in bed with you as you sleep

• You scoot over and rest your head against the side of his thigh, not wanting to disturb his laptop but wanting to smell the comforting smell of your favorite demon

• “Dia...you smell like home” you whisper against him, and he almost thought he didn’t hear you right

• A human ?? Making his heart feel like this ??

• He hides his face in his hand for a moment before coming back to his senses

• “I’ll always be your home, MC. I promise” he said gently, moving a hand from his work to stroke your hair

Barbatos

• He’d had a longer day than usual with Diavolo, and you were practically asleep when he got into bed well past midnight

• “Mmm, welcome” you tease lightly, voice groggy

• “Go to sleep” he whispered, not wanting you to lose any more sleep than you already had

• You snuggled against his chest, appreciating his warmth, “You smell like home” you half consciously whispered

• ERROR: BARBATOS HAS STOPPED WORKING

• He holds you closer than he thought was demonly possible, whispering little words of affirmation to you as you fell asleep in his arms

Simeon

• You were walking around the park, holding hands and talking about your day

• The two of you passed a nice fountain, and decided to take a picture to remember your day together

• You moved closer to him, and suddenly your nose was filled with his scent

• “Simeon, you smell so good. Like, home” you commented, not expecting a blush to cross his face almost instantly

• “MC...” he was speechless, but just pulled you into a hug (and took a selfie of the two of you hugging, because he never wanted to forget this moment)

• “Thank you” he smiled the most genuine smile you’d ever seen, and you knew you wanted Simeon in your life forever

Solomon

• You’ve enlisted his help for cooking duty, and the two of you are working on your favorite dish from the human world

• He leans across you to grab a measuring cup, and you can’t help but notice how comforting and familiar he smells

• “Solomon, you smell like home” you turn and wrap your arms around him, inhaling deeply against him

• He !!

• “Awh, MC” he laughed lightly, “You should have told me sooner”, then setting down the measuring cup and wrapping his arms back around you

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

A/N: I didn’t feel comfortable doing Luke w/this one just bc ,, he is a child and I would feel weird telling a child they smell like home yk ?? Anyways I ~loved~ this prompt hehe I hope you guys enjoy

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leiawritesstories · 2 years ago

Note

For Chef Rowan series, I would love to see if/when Aedion finds out Rowan indeed was the one who taught Aelin's cooking classes. Does it just casually come up or..?

I'm going to combine this with the following anon request:

Ok but chef rowan I can just imagine Aedion getting mad at Rowan next time he sees him because he took his baby cousin home after the first date and they have a bro-fight of sorts, both being incredibly overprotective. Obvs they end up making up after because they're bros and good friends too

because the two go together so well hehehehe

word count: 1,435

warnings: language, mentions of sex, territorial males and their pissing contests

enjoy!!

Territorial Brutes

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

Aedion had hardly slept, thoughts of his baby cousin and his best friend together intruding into any bit of mental stillness he managed to achieve. Beside him, Lysandra’s breathing was deep and even, her soft hair spilling across his chest as she slept. He tried--godsdammit, he tried so hard to shut off his brain and go the fuck to sleep, but he just couldn’t get more than snatches of dozing before an uninvited voice crept into his mind and clanged the “Rowan took Aelin home!” alarm bell.

Of course, there was no hiding his lack of sleep from his girlfriend.

“Babe,” Lys murmured when she awoke. “You’ve been hyper-fixating again.”

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled.

She huffed. “Babe, Aelin might be your little cousin, but she is a grown ass woman and she is more than capable of making her own choices. And so is Rowan.”

“I just don’t know how I’ll face either of them,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Fuck, I don’t know how I’ll hold back from punching Rowan the next time we hit the gym. If there’s a next time,” he added, rolling his eyes sardonically.

“Don’t be overdramatic, Aeds.”

“I’m not being overdramatic!”

She raised a brow. “Mhmm.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, flushing a little. “Fine. Maybe I am. But I can’t be held responsible if and when I accidentally forget to spot Whitethorn at the gym.”

Lys snickered. “You two go fight your bro fights and leave me and Aelin to discuss in great detail how her night was.”

“Fuck,” Aedion groaned, screwing his eyes shut. “No!”

Lysandra’s cackle followed him out the door.

Aedion was crackling with nerves and irritation and a hundred other emotions when he arrived at the gym, noting that Rowan’s car was already in the parking lot. Hmm. Guess the bastard decided to climb off Aelin and get his ass to the gym, then. He strolled into the gym, swung by the locker room to drop off his things and take off his sweatshirt, and headed into the weight area, finding Rowan waiting by the free weights, scrolling through the day’s sets on his phone.

“Hey, Aedi--”

Aedion cut off his friend’s greeting with a shove. Not very hard, just enough to knock Whitethorn off balance so he wobbled.

“What the fuck was that for?” Rowan snapped.

“Aelin,” Aedion growled. “You had no right--”

“Stop right the hell there.” Rowan glared at him. “One, Aelin is a mature, responsible adult and she has the right to make her own decisions. Two, why the fuck do you think you get to control what she does?”

“She’s my cousin, ass, and if you think for even a minute that you can just waltz in and take her home and then break her heart, you’ve got a few more things coming.”

“Ashryver, I’m not going to fucking break her heart.”

“How the fuck do I know that?”

Rowan shoved a dumbbell at him. “Use those three brain cells of yours. If they even work, that is.”

“Dumbass,” Aedion snorted.

Rowan rolled his eyes. “You’ve known me for what, ten years now? Don’t go all jackass on me just because I took Aelin out and then took her home.” He smirked at Aedion in the mirror. “Oh, and remind me just who, exactly, set up the date?”

Aedion was silent.

“That’s right, blondie, it was you.” Rowan’s grin grew.

“Shut up, tattoo boy,” Aedion grunted, focusing his attention on his set.

Rowan snickered a little. “If it makes you feel any better, Ashryver, I swear on all things holy that I’m never gonna hurt her.” He was barely breaking a sweat as he went through a set of curls.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Aedion returned. “Dammit, Whitethorn, I was with her when that dick broke up with her because he wanted to stuff his cock in some other chick, I saw how much it hurt her.”

“Bet you wanted to pummel that jerk,” Rowan snorted.

Aedion grinned viciously. “Who says I didn’t?”

“Just reminding you that you can’t pummel me, blondie, so don’t even think about trying the first time you get all protective.”

“Oh, tattoo boy, I could definitely pummel you.”

“Remind me again which one of us can fillet a fish in under sixty seconds?” Rowan smirked, all dominance.

“Dammit,” Aedion grunted, rolling his eyes. “Oh, that reminds me, d’you know who teaches cooking classes in town?”

Rowan raised his brows. “Awful big change of subject, blondie. Why d’you ask?”

“Dick,” Aedion huffed. “Aelin told me her class cost three hundred fucking dollars, and since I lost the bet, I’ve got to pay her back the cost. I’m just wondering who the fuck charges that much for four weeks of classes?”

Rowan shrugged. “Three hundred is a decent price for a month of classes, actually. I know a few places that teach cooking classes and charge three or four hundred for a three-week program.”

“The fuck?” Aedion gaped. “Gods, that’s fucking price gouging!”

“Maybe, but if it’s a quality class, it’s worth the money.” Rowan racked his weights. “I teach a class at my restaurant and we charge three hundred or three-fifty for the program. It’s a monthlong one and it’s for adults, so I’ve never had an issue with the price.”

“You teach a class?” Aedion put down his weights. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, basically got forced to teach because I’m exec chef.” Rowan raised a brow. “Why, you interested?”

Aedion snickered. “Unlike my darling cousin, I can cook basic food without setting fire to the kitchen.”

Rowan chuckled. “I dunno about ‘unlike’ Aelin, blondie. She’s come pretty far since college, yeah?”

“If by ‘far’ you mean whatever class she took miraculously made her able to cook a damn good dinner, then yeah.” Aedion’s eyes narrowed. “And quit calling me blondie, tattoo boy.”

“Never,” Rowan smirked. “But I am proud of Aelin and her cooking, indeed.”

“You say that like you know how she learned,” Aedion mused, mind churning.

“Maybe I do.” Rowan slung his towel around his neck and headed for the locker room. “I am dating her, y’know.”

“And you’ve just got to remind me,” Aedion groaned. Then his gaze sharpened. “Wait a damn second. Do you know where she took cooking class?”

“Course I do.”

“That--Whitethorn, who the hell taught Aelin to cook?”

Rowan held open the door to the locker room. “I did.”

Aedion stopped short, eyes bugging out in shock. “The fuck?”

“Your ears not working?” Rowan teased. “I taught that class, Ashryver. She’s really quite competent, once you give clear instructions and don’t just let her try to figure it out with no prior knowledge.”

“Huh.” The explanation seemed to satisfy Aedion. “So she--wait a goddamn second, does this mean it wasn’t actually a blind date?!”

“Well--” Rowan rubbed his chin. “Yes and no?”

“Explain,” Aedion huffed, rolling his eyes. “You and your one-syllable answers, tattoo boy.”

“Says the one who speaks in punches, blondie.” Rowan smirked. “Yes, it was a blind date until she showed up, because I had absolutely no idea Aelin is your cousin and you conveniently never said her name. But no, it wasn’t a true blind date, because we already knew each other from the class. Granted, we got to know each other very well after that date--”

“No!” Aedion yelped, clamping his hands over his ears. “Fuck it, Whitethorn, I do not need to hear that!”

“Someone’s sensitive,” Rowan snickered. “Fine. No, it wasn’t really a blind date after we realized we already knew each other, but yes, it was a blind date until Aelin showed up. See?”

“Fair enough,” Aedion muttered. “All right, Whitethorn, you’re allowed to date Aelin.”

“How very generous of you,” Rowan drawled, all sarcasm. “And here I thought we’d discussed Aelin being more than capable of making her own decisions.”

“Ass,” Aedion grumbled, elbowing Rowan in the ribs. “But if anything happens to her, I’m gonna beat your face in.”

“If I do anything to hurt her, you have the right and the permission to beat my face in.” Rowan offered his hand. “Deal?”

Aedion shook. “Deal.” And he went home satisfied with the agreement and starting to adjust to the idea of his buddy dating his cousin.

At least, he’d started to adjust until he came home to find Aelin and Lysandra sitting on the couch, snickering and giggling over their iced coffees, and caught the words “dick” and “massive” in close succession.

He’d had to go back out to his car to scream out his discomfort at that.

~~~

TAGS:

@charlizeed

@cretaceous-therapod

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@nerdperson524

@claralady

@fireheartwhitethorn4ever

@morganofthewildfire

@rowanaelinn

@wesupremeginger

@story-scribbler

@nicolivesinbooks

@mackenzieclutt

@stardelia

@shanias-world

@mybloodrunsblue

@swankii-art-teacher

@wordsafterhours

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@violet-mermaid7

@holdthefrickup

@goddess-aelin

@rowaelinismyotp

@dealfea

@irondork

@elentiyawhitethorn

@live-the-fangirl-life

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@chronicchthonic14

@whispers-in-the-darkest-heart

@sweet-but-stormy

@hanging-from-a-cliff

@jorjy-jo

@rowaelinrambling

@thegreyj

@silentquartz

@backtobl4ck

#my writing #chef rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aedion ashryver #rowan v aedion #territorial brutes

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noteguk · 4 years ago

Note

bro bad influence! jk and reader are 100% the type of couple to argue mid-sex i love this culture

They are!!!!

Taglist: @ft-multi @cryinginmypromdress @kooafraid @kissestothesky @dianaaviny @ggukkieland

[ ! ] this drabble is for “bad influence” — it can, however, be read as a standalone.

— words; 1.8k

— contents and warnings; hmmm smut, semi-public sex, oral (m rec and mention of f rec), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mention of cum play, playfully “arguing” mid-sex, the endless adventures of bad boy!jk x good girl! reader

“I can’t believe you, Jungkook,” your voice came out as an irritated murmur against the warm skin of his neck, barely interrupted by a soft whimper. “We’re gonna be late for class.”

His hand grew tighter around your thigh, pushing your leg higher up. Jungkook was buried deep between your folds, filling you up in every way that you loved, and yet you were a bit too paranoid to fully dive into those sensations. “Hmmm don’t care,” he groaned, the slaps of his skin against yours filling that small cabinet in a rhythmic symphony. Twice already, a broom had fallen on top of you, knocking you right on the forehead, and so you refused to let it go. That entire scene was ridiculous. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned.

You rolled your eyes, amazed at how he managed to ignore everything else but the feeling of your walls clenching around him. The fact that you two were having a quickie in the janitor’s closet, exactly fifteen minutes before your most important class, was bad enough as it was. Your escapade was far from heavenly, with the stiff air impregnated by the nauseating aroma of a hundred different chemical products, the annoyingly flickering lightbulb over you, and, as stated, the paraphernalia that was knocked over every time Jungkook’s thrusts got a little too rough.

“God, why are you like this?” you complained.

He hummed, his fingers digging into your flesh. You could tell that Jungkook was starting to lose himself in you, for the roll of his hips started to get slower, less coordinated, as they always did when he was trying to prolong his pleasure. “Like what?” He breathed out.

You leaned your head back against the wall, looking at those devilish eyes of his. Jungkook’s hair was a mess, exploding around his head like a failed scientific experiment, and you knew that one look was all it took to know that it was sex hair. “Why do you always have to pick the worst time to do this stuff?” you clarified.

He scoffed. “Excuse me, princess, I think it was you who locked us in here,” he said. He wasn’t wrong, but, to be fair, you weren’t expecting that your make-out session would escalate to that. Then again, you were often naive when it came to his antics. “Now stay quiet or people are going to hear you.”

“Fuck off,” you whispered — whispered, because he was right. You had been controlling your moans and whimpers fairly well, but your normal speaking voice wasn’t a good idea either. There was no way to lock the room from the inside, and anyone could open that door at any given second.

Jungkook smirked like he knew what you were thinking about — that fucked-out, greek god smirk that had your knees weak for a second. His face was bathed by the golden light from the bulb, dripping in shadows and lustful gazes. “Wrong answer,” he teased. “You were supposed to say ‘Oh, Jungkook, I can’t keep quiet when you’re fucking me so well’.”

As if to prove his claim, Jungkook placed his face on the crook of your neck and pressed himself even deeper inside you. The feeling of his cock stretching you open was intoxicating, and the timid moan you let out was enough to make him throb inside you, gasping against the sweet scent of your hair.

Still, you wouldn’t bulge. “Gooood, shut up, please,” you whined, interlacing your fingers in his hair. There was a thin layer of sweat on his nape, the expected result from fucking in a hot, closed-off enviroment. “Are you close?”

“Yeah, almost there,” he moaned, picking his pace back up. You had to bite your lip to suppress a particularly loud moan after one of his hands slithered up your abdomen and grabbed your clothed breast, playing with it as he continued to seek his own high. His other hand still had its iron grip on your thigh, keeping your leg up as he continued to pound himself in and out of your wet heat. “Fuck, I love these skirts you wear. Easy access.”

“You’re such a caveman,” you said. Jungkook was breathing heavy against your ear, fighting for air as he mumbled sweet nothings just for you. You were almost overtaken by him — the pounding of his cock inside your pussy, his delicious moans and curses, the praises that he threw your way for being so good for him. Almost. “Don’t cum inside.”

Jungkook visibly tensed up at your request. You could tell that some part of his primitive brain was thinking of repeating one of his past endeavours — one that he came inside you, and made you walk around campus with his cum in you for the rest of the day. It was really hard to keep an upper hand when Jungkook was always knowingly smirking at you from across the room, loving the way that only the two of you knew of that little nasty secret.

(Miraculously, it was one of the few times that he didn’t feel slightly jealous when he saw you talking to other guys, but you didn’t have to know that).

Still, you weren't wearing pants that day, so the whole ordeal wouldn’t be so easy to hide.

A small whimper left his throat as he leaned forward, placing a wet kiss against your lips. You were looking at him with those big, doll-like eyes of yours, and he couldn’t refuse your request even if he wanted to fill you up so bad. “Awn, you’re so mean,” he whined, forehead touching yours. Every shove of his cock inside you had you bouncing up and down against the wall, that stupid broom threatening to tilt once again. “Can I cum in your mouth, baby?”

You hummed, trying to torture him with a fake thinking session. “Don’t know…” You hesitated. Jungkook cursed against your shoulder, his cock throbbing inside you once again. “Do you have gum?”

“Jesus, woman,” he complained, almost choking on his own pleasure. “Yeah, I have gum. Can I do it?”

You smiled. “Suit yourself.” You had to use all the force inside you to place your hands on his shoulders and push him away. Jungkook almost sobbed when he pulled himself out of your heat, his cock glistening with your wetness, swollen and reddened. “And cum quickly or I’ll kill you.”

You got to your knees before Jungkook had the chance to respond, your hand wrapping around his base and pumping him tentatively. He bucked his hips towards you, hissing at the sensitivity. “Listen, I’m really fucking close,” he told you, “and I don’t think you’d fancy a facial right now, so stop with that teasing.”

You chuckled at his comment, fumbling closer to him. “You know me too well.”

With that, you wrapped your lips around his tip, sinking his member inside your mouth until it almost reached your throat. Jungkook cried out in delight, louder than he had the entire time, and you were sure any passing strangers had heard him.

Yet your paranoia was forgotten when he started talking.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, placing his hand on the back of your head and tugging at your hair. Jungkook guided your movements with little force, watching as you had your fun around his cock — sucking and slurping him like it was the best thing in the world, the tears that accumulated at the corners of your eyes looking like a divine gift to him. “God, I love when you suck my cock, fuck—“

You moaned around him, the vibrations feeling like heaven to the boy. With a few more pumps of your mouth around him, Jungkook was coming undone with a loud hiss and a desperate buckle of his hips, calling out your name as he released his cum inside you. “Swallow everything,” his voice was hoarse as he told you that, meeting your watery eyes as you fought to drink every drop of his cum that you could. Jungkook smirked at your efforts, fingers caressing your scalp as you finished cleaning him up. “Good girl.”

You sighed happily at his praise, taking his hand as he helped you back on your feet. You could only hope that your knees wouldn’t be red by the time that you arrived at your classroom.

“Love watching you with my cock in your mouth, baby.” Jungkook leaned closer to you, wrapping his arms on your lower back. He gifted you with a quick peck on the lips, still breathing hard against your mouth. “I hate that you don’t let me snap a picture.”

You laughed at that, running one hand through his messy hair in an attempt to save it a bit. In the end, you decided it would be better if he just pushed it back. “I’m not an idiot, believe it or not.” You smiled. “Gum?”

Jungkook nodded and reached for his jacket’s pocket. “Here you go.” He handed you the small colorful wrapping. You promptly threw a piece in your mouth, humming at the sweet taste. He pouted. “You’re going to class like this? You didn’t cum, baby.”

“I’m aware,” you told him, fixing your panties and skirt. Jungkook didn’t seem to worry about the state of his pants, though, because he didn’t follow your movements. “But I’m not gonna be late to this class, today’s topic is half of what’s gonna be on the test. Pick me up after the lesson and maybe you can deal with my delayed orgasm situation. If I’m feeling nice.”

Jungkook smirked, pulling your body closer to his. “Hmmm, love when you boss me around.”

He kissed you again and, when the kiss started to get a bit too long for your liking, you pushed him away. “Jungkook, listen, I have two fucking minutes—“

“Okay, okay, go.” He rolled his eyes, noticing that his attempts at prolonging your little escapade wouldn’t be fruitful. Jungkook stepped back so he could tug himself back inside his underwear, and you turned around to open the door. As your fingers were curling around the handle, he made sure to add, “Don’t exhaust your wrist with all those notes, princess, you’re gonna need it later.”

And of course he smacked your ass when you walked out.

Thirty minutes after your class was over, Jungkook was happy to have his face buried between your thighs, eating you out on the backseat of his car. Suddenly, it seemed as if you weren’t so worried about being caught, because he never heard you moan so loud.

He made a mental note to do that more often.

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

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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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torubeth · 3 years ago

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My eyes are for you and you only

Suna was never the jealous type, so why was he fuming when you were talking to the guy from your class ?

“Yeah, so basically, when you use the formula-“, someone’s chin rested on your shoulder making you jolt a little.

“Suna!! Hey baby!! What’re you doing here ?”, you asked, turning to hug him, to which he happily and lazily draped his hands around you.

His face in your hair, just inhaling that soft comfort smell of the shampoo you regularly use, puts him at ease.

“Mmmm…it’s lunch time bub, so we’re just at the table, chilling”, he said.

“Oh right!! My bad, anyways, I’ll catch up with you later okay ? I have a task and I’ll just finish it quickly and meet you at the table”, you said, unaware of the glares between the guy and Suna.

It’s as if Suna’s telling him to back off from what’s his, which he is.

“Ok then can I have a kis-“, the guy interrupted.

“Hey y/n help me with this please ?”, he asked.

“Yeah sure!! Ok Rin, give me a few minutes”, you said, turning your attention to the guy, which had Suna irritated.

“Yeah…..”, he felt a bit off, cause you didn’t give him a kiss.

After a solid ten minutes, you arrived at the table.

“Sorry, sorry!! I had to help out a classmate”, you said.

“Yeah, it’s not a problem”, Osamu said with a smile.

“Well, it kinda is….”, his twin said, proving him wrong and pointing to a corner. And indeed, it was a problem.

Suna’s head was on the table and he looked, a bit bothered somehow. Not that the twins would know, you could clearly tell, something’s up.

“Did y’all mess with him ? Atsumu ?”, you asked, raising a brow.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m innocent!”, he said.

“Okay…..”, you said walking up to Suna.

“Hey, Rin, wake up, you need to eat and then we have class”, you said slowly, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“Y/n ?”, he questioned. “Yeah…..uh, you okay Rin ?”, you asked, concerned.

“I’m fine, the better question is, are YOU okay ?”, he asked, emphasizing ‘you’.

“Uh I’m good…….okay Rin, what’s up ?”, you said, sitting beside him.

He only pouted, and hugged you. “You didn’t kiss me”, he whispered.

“Sorry, baby, what was that ? Repeat it one more time please”, you said, running your hands through his hair, to which he completely relaxed.

“I said, you didn’t kiss me”, he pouted more. Hearing this made you giggle and the twins to start cackling.

“Bro, I know you loved her, but damn, since when are ya a softie ?”, Osamu said, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah!!! I’m just shocked. Is this how Suna really is ? But god!! Who would’ve known!!! Ahahahaaha!!! This is Suna is his natural habitat!!!”, Atsumu said.

“If you ever get a s/o, which I’m sure you won’t, you too will become a softie”, Suna said.

“That’s rude Suna!!”, he said.

“It’s our cue to leave these lovebirds alone, c’mon ‘tsumu, let’s go”, Samu said, getting up. And then they’re gone.

You turn to look at boyfriend, who seems to have already been staring at you.

“What was that all about ?”, you asked.

“Well…you were talking to that guy, and didn’t give me attention or a…kiss…”, he said.

You on the other hand, finding it just adorable. “So you want a kiss, is that what this is all about ?”, you said amused, he just nods. You laugh a little.

You pull him by the shirt collar and collide your lips with his, tilting your head for a better angle. This caught him off guard. And things were about to escalate when you pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “I hope that makes up for it lover boy”, you said, winking at him. “Anyways, you don’t have to be jealous, that guy doesn’t compare to you, no one does. My eyes are for you and you only”, you said, smiling.

“Wait, how’d yo-“, “I know my man better than anyone else”, you said backing off to head to class.

“Bye baby!!! See you after school!! Good luck for practice!!!”, you said.

“I- why are they so cute…”, he mumbled to himself.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna rinatro #suna fluff #suna x reader fluff

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leviathans-watching · 3 years ago

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contact: yuuji | 08 - campus escort

SYNOPSIS: during your second year of uni you have the misfortune of sharing a class with terushima, a loud and irritating party boy. he’s mouthy, fake, and full of himself, everything your mysterious texting buddy isn’t. but as time goes on and terushima begins expressing new sides to himself never before seen, you wonder if everything is as it seems.

masterlist | previous | next | .8k words

You wish you’d put more effort into making friends. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that BS. If you had friends, you wouldn’t have to walk back to your apartment alone.

Bokuto had offered to get you, but he’s been missing Akaashi, and you’re a big kid, you had this. You could make the ten minute walk. Five if you speed walk.

Sighing, you push open the double doors, into the night. It’s not completely dark, due to the scattered light posts, but it still made you a little uncomfortable.

Looking around yourself, you notice a folding table with a sign taped to the front of it. You have to walk past it anyway, and despite yourself, you take a look.

CAMPUS ESCORT

You’d heard of these before- someone will escort you to wherever you need to go if you feel unsafe. And you feel unsafe.

Slightly hesitant, you step up to the table. The guy sitting there looks up at you, quickly sliding his phone into his pocket.

“Hey!” he says warmly, making you feel a little bit more at ease. “Need an escort?”

“Um, yeah, that’d be good,” you reply, and he nods, pulling a sheet of paper towards him and squinting at in in the dim light from the streetlight above him.

“Coolio. We’ve only got a few volunteers out here tonight, but one should be around here.” He quickly taps something out on his now-present phone, and moments later someone strides through the darkness to you. Your heart drops when you see who it is.

“Terushima,” the guy manning the table says. “We got someone who needs a walk.”

Terushima’s eyes widen slightly when he looks at you. “Yeah, for sure.”

“Um, actually, I think I can make it,” you blurt before you can stop yourself and they both stare at you.

“You sure?” Table-guy says, and you bite your cheek as you nod.

“No, no,” Terushima says quickly. “I’ll take the table, bro. You should walk them.”

“Dude, I would,” The guy shakes his head. “but you know that’s against the rules.”

You wish you hadn’t opened your mouth. To say that was kind of mean, and you really, really didn’t want to walk alone.

“I’m sorry,” you say, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I spoke hastily. It’s fine if Terushima walks me. Thank you.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Terushima says, surprisingly sincere.

“No, please, I’m fine. It’s just- been a day.”

Terushima and Table-guy look at each other for a moment.

“Okay,” Terushima says after a moment. “Want to go then?”

After a few moments where Table-guy gets your name and stuff, you two set off in awkward silence.

“Thank you for walking with me,” you manage, side-eyeing him. He’s dressed casually, just in jeans and a university sweatshirt.

“It’s my job,” he says, before correcting himself. “Well, volunteering job, anyway.”

“You volunteer?” you ask, surprised. “You’re not like, forced to do this?”

Terushima turns to look at you, a frown marring his features. “Look, I’m not like a complete asshole, okay?”

His defensive tone wears on you, and you hold out your hands. “Sorry, sorry.”

“No,” Terushima says, insistent. “I know we got off on the wrong foot-“

“The wrong foot?” you say incredulously. “You poured your fucking drink on me!”

“I know! And I’m sorry, okay?” Terushima’s animated now, and you can hear his tongue piercing clacking against his teeth. When had you noticed a tongue piercing? “I was a fucking asshole. But I’m working on it, now, and I wanted to apologize to you for real.” He chuckles humorlessly to himself. “I’ve wanted to for a while now, actually. But you’ve always avoided me.”

“Can you blame me?” you ask as you walk under a streetlight, tuning a corner.

Terushima sighs. “No.”

It’s silent for a moment.

“Anyway,” Terushima says. “I really am sorry. I know it’s way too late, and way to little, but would you at least let me pay you back for the clothes I ruined? Because I know I probably ruined them.”

Normally, you’d just wave it off, but its Terushima, so you agree and give him your Venmo. He pays you right then on the spot, agreeing to the price you give immediately.

All of this had distracted you from your walk, and before you know it, you’re at your apartment building.

“Thank you, again, for walking me,” you say quietly as you dig out your key. “And, you know, apologizing.”

“Thanks for hearing me out,” replies Terushima, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You stare at each other a moment more before you unlock the door, giving him a small smile. You hadn’t thought your night would end with you smiling at Terushima, but here you are.

“Good night,” you says quietly, and Terushima echoes you. You close the door, realizing he never told you why he poured his drink on you. You know what you have to do.

You have to just go to bed.

a/n: hope you like it!! i wrote it on my phone watching antm lol

please like, reblog, reply

to be added to the taglist fill this out: x ; to be removed, send in an ask

tagging: @revrse @atinyfrog @i-reblog-storie @captain-toaster-man @mean-mandyy @ukailele @atrashsith @alexialuvsya @lcvekdy @bakugouswh0r3 @roselia-rogue @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @xxserenitysnow666xx @rintarovibes @lucky-chars @bananasquash @its-the-aerieljeane @namyari @angelofsmlldeath @excitedlysuffering @erinoikawa (erin pls i’m so sorry i think i’ve been forgetting to tag you please forgive me 😭😭)

#contact: yuuji #haikyuu #haikyu #hq #haikyuu!!#leviswriting #terushima x y/n #terushima yuuji x reader #terushima yuji x reader #terushima #terushima x reader #terushima x you #haikyuu terushima #terushima yuuji #terushima scenarios #haikyuu smau #smau series #smau #hq smau

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i-just-like-goats · 3 years ago

Text

Miya Atsumu x Female Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: The Inarizaki team have all placed bets on when you and your longtime best friend Atsumu will finally get together. Kita is close to losing the bet, time for him to step in.

It is known to all students at Inarizaki High that Atsumu was a lady’s man. Sure he wasn’t a womaniser or a player, but that didn’t stop him from breaking hearts everywhere he went. His mere dismissal of a girl would lead that girl to burst into tears, straight up rejections even worse. His casual flirtatious comments did not at all help with his reputation, leading oblivious girls to believe he actually held interest in them. How wrong they were.

Whereas you. You deemed yourself nothing special. Nothing too flashy, unlike a certain someone. You didn’t stand out in a crowd, and most certainly never attempted to shine or take the spotlight. You left that to your best friend.

Miya Atsumu.

“Hey could you-“

“No.”

“Will you please put in a good-“

“No.”

The first two girls had left, their hopes crushed, you felt relieved they had gone to class until another girl replaced them and effectively disrupted your short lived peace.

“Y/N!” She said, her voice oozed with fake sweetness.

“Do I know you?” You asked bluntly.

“We sit next to each other in chemistry, silly. Don’t you remember?”

“And?”

“So I was wondering if I could ask you a favour?”

“If it’s homework we had none. If it’s class work I’ll send you my notes. If it’s anything else; leave me alone.”

“I just need you to give this little gift to At-“

“Not interested.”

With that you swiftly walked away, which left the unnamed girl open mouthed with shock. This was the daily routine you had to put up with. Reject all of Atsumu’s fan girls who approached you in order to reach him. Truth be told it was extremely tedious, but you couldn’t really complain - after all you were the one who befriended him. It was a small price to pay for being friends with him.

“Hey I was wondering if you could set me up with Atsumu?” A different girl asked.

Scratch that it wasn’t small. At all. It was a big price to pay. Very tedious. Very irritating. Very time consuming. By the time you reached your first class - English - you were already exhausted and plopped yourself into your seat.

“Don’t you look wonderful?”

“Well you wouldn’t look so hot either if you had to fight off Atsumu’s admirers in the space of one morning.”

Osamu noticed your sharp tone and held his hands up in mock surrender. You shook your head at him and started writing down what your teacher was saying.

Lunch came around and you made your way to your usual table next to your best friend.

“There’s my favourite best friend!”

All eyes were on you as you made your way to Atsumu. Some looked with contempt. Some with envy. Others with anger. All harboured ill feelings towards you. He had that certain look in his eye when you walked over to him, like you were the greatest thing in the world. His smile widened once you took the seat across from him, Atsumu’s eyes sparkled with joy as though it was his first time seeing your face again. Suna scoffed at his expression, not before taking a sneaky picture of proof about how much Miya Atsumu was whipped for Y/N L/N.

“Where were you all morning! I missed you so much,”

“I was dying,”

Silence. Atsumu tilted his head in confusion. Next to him, his twin stifled a laugh.

“Bro, your girlfriend here was busy fending off the wild animals that make up your fan club. She had no time to see your stupid face, and the last time you saw her was yesterday,”

Everyone in proximity of your table tensed up at Osamu’s words. From the table next to yours, Atsumu’s fan girls glared daggers at you.

“Yesterday was ages ago,” Atsumu whined.

“That’s what you focus on?” You ask incredulously.

Instantly Atsumu’s demeanour changed and he glanced to his left.

“Way to go Osamu, now Y/N’s on their hit list,” Atsumu said dryly.

“Well if you didn’t flirt back none of us would be in this mess,” Kita kindly passive aggressively informed his teammate.

Ever since Atsumu’s first official match, girls had been flocking to Atsumu like a swarm of bees to their queen. Every day the Inarizaki volleyball team had to deal with squealing fan girls gushing over Atsumu’s talent for volleyball, essentially distracting the players and disrupting practice. At first Atsumu shamelessly flirted back, basking in the attention, now he, as well as the others were fed up. In short, Kita was tired. Tired of the fan girls. And most importantly tired of the fact that you and Atsumu weren’t dating yet. At this rate Kita would lose the bet that Osamu and Suna had coerced him to take part in. He had bet that you and Atsumu would be dating by the end of the month, which was this Saturday, and the way things were going between you two, he’d probably have to ask you out himself for Atsumu in order to win the bet. On the other hand, Osamu bet that Atsumu would ask in their third year, Aran bet that you would actually ask instead of Atsumu and Suna bet that Atsumu would ask at the end of next month. It was decided that the losers would do what the winner wanted for a day, with no complaining whatsoever. A whole day of getting the team to do what he wants without complaints. A dream come true for Kita.

“It’s the end of the month on Saturday. Two days,” Osamu sing songed.

“So?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing,”

You dropped it and shrugged. Opposite you, Kita sent a saccharine smile towards Osamu, while the latter playfully smirked back. Kita had a plan.

Two day passed as usual, nothing significant happened; that is until the end of the second day. As usual, you made your way out of Physics with Atsumu; your best friend filled in the silence with his cheerful chatter. Unusually, Kita stood there at the end of the corridor.

“Hey cap! What brings you here?” Atsumu inquired.

Kita seemed to snap out of whatever was bothering him, for his face returned from his previous scrunched expression to his more neutral expression.

“Hm? Oh I came here to speak with Y/N. If that’s alright with the two of you?”

You nodded, though intrigued as to what Kita wanted to talk to you about, Atsumu on the other hand stayed silent. Before you left with Kita, he crushed you with a hug and sent puppy eyes at your retreating figure, walking next to his captain.

During the walk out of school grounds, Kita mentally prepared himself to convince you to ask Atsumu out, allowing both his and Aran’s plan to work, so that the pair won the bet - Kita was too engrossed in his thoughts. A while passed before you and Kita spoke; you were already halfway home before you confronted Kita.

“Kita?”

“You have feelings for Atsumu, don’t you?”

Kita panicked at your sudden dialogue and spoke the words that first came to his mind. His panic was not conveyed through his steady tone of voice. Truth be told, it was more of a statement than a question, it certainly caught you off guard. The latter half of the sentence seemed to be added hastily as though to soften the bluntness.

“What makes you say that?” You answered evenly, and turned your face away from him, a small blush settled firmly on your cheeks.

“Answering my question with a question I see,” he teased, “Everyone knows, the both of you don’t hide your feelings very well, it surprises me that you two aren’t dating yet,”

“I know he has feelings for me, I’m not an idiot, I see the way he looks differently at me and I see how he’s more clingy towards me than the others. I’m not an idiot,” you repeated.

“Then what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know,”

“I think you do know. Idiot,”

You pouted and let out a huff.

“Fine. Fine,” you finally conceded, “I’m not an idiot but I am a coward. I guess - as cliché as it sounds - I don’t want to ruin our friendship. What if it doesn’t work out and we end on bad terms? Years of friendship would be wasted and gone in an instant. I just. I just don’t want to risk that happening,”

“What’s life without a little risk,”

At Kita’s attempt at lightening the mood, you scoffed and shook your head.

“Sorry, that was unlike me. What I meant to say was you won’t know until you try. Sure there is that possibility that the relationship may end badly and the precious friendship between you and Atsumu would probably be lost, but there is also a chance that this relationship will end happily, with no heartbreak. I can’t guarantee that everything will be peachy; obviously there’s going to be some problems along the way but knowing your stubborn personality I am confident that you will fight for you and Atsumu, because I know you care way too much for him to let him go,”

Kita’s speech surprised you, this was the most encouraging thing he had said to you. Ever. You smiled.

“Thanks Kita. I really needed that,” you said as you finally reached your house.

Kita made his way to his house, waving as he walked down the steeet. He left you with a lot to think about.

Later that evening you called Kita again, and talked until he decided that it was time to go to sleep.

That morning you walked to school with Kita in a comfortable silence. Once you reached school you spoke.

“Ok I’m going to do it,”

“Yes you will,” Kita encouraged.

Confidently you walked up to your long time best friend, then suddenly turned the other direction.

“I can’t do it,” you cried out.

Exasperatedly, Kita shook his head and forced a strained smile.

“Y/N do you want to do this or not?”

“I do,”

“Then go get him,”

“I’ll do it while we walk home,”

Anyway, the school day passed, honestly you couldn’t remember what happened, it was all a blur.

“Atsumu?” you called.

“Yup?”

“Do you want to walk home together?”

“Yes! I’m still kinda annoyed you walked with Kita, Kita of all people instead of me,”

“Sorry about that ‘Tsumu,” you replied bashfully.

With that you both made your way out of school. Little did you know Kita, Osamu, Suna and Aran followed you both from a distance. Osamu and Suna because they just wanted to go home. Kita and Aran to make sure you confessed.

“Get ready to do what we want for a day,” Kita stated.

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Suna questioned.

“Kita and I formulated a plan,” Aran answered cryptically.

“Guys shut up Y/N stopped walking,” Osamu whisper shouted.

You had indeed stopped walking, leaving Atsumu to carry on walking and talking. You had been quiet the whole walk, which wasn’t unusual, as you normally let Atsumu talk, while you listened. You were just too lost in your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

Atsumu had finally noticed that you were no longer by his side.

“Hellooo. Earth to Y/N,”

“I like you,”

Atsumu was taken aback. That was not a reply he was expecting.

“I just really like your smile, your personality even though you can be quite big headed at times, I like your laugh, I just like you for you, not in the way that those girls like you for your looks and skills. I like everything about you even your flaws,”

“Whoa, for real?”

You glanced at his expression and burst out laughing.

“You look like surprised Pikachu!” you wheezed out.

Atsumu joined in with your laughter. The two of you continued laughing for several minutes.

“I like you too,” Atsumu said once both your laughter finally died down.

You turned your gaze towards his eyes. His beautiful eyes that held all the stars in the galaxy.

“That’s a relief,”

#atsumu #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #inarizaki #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#hq #hq x reader

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whack-ed · 4 years ago

Text

“Just Friends” (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Synopsis: A halloween party was what it took for you to finally do what you wanted to do with Fred.

Warnings: make out; underage drinking and extremely flirtation.

Reader: Female

World Count: 2.5k

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay, I had some personal problems to solve, but here I am! this is a oneshot for the special A very Harry Potter Halloween by @masterofthedarkness and @eleven-times-lively. This one is for the 30th with the prompt Halloween Party! Hope you like it :)

tag list: @nebulablakemurphy @jamilelucato @inglourious-imagines @acciotwinz @clarissaxpearce

if you want to be tagged, send me a ask!

Finally October, the favorite time of year for Y/n. For various reasons, fantasies, sweets, the weather, absolutely everything Y/n loved most was present in October. But probably the thing the girl liked the better was the Weasley twins' Halloween party. And this year promised, it was the twins' last year at school and they promised the best Halloween party this school has ever seen.

Usually Y/n knew everything the twins were preparing, since they were a quartet. The twins, Y/n and Lee. These four names together gave chills to any teacher. But not this time. This year it was just Fred and George who were looking for trouble. The twins didn't let Y/n and Lee participate at all, the surprise was for everyone. And of course, Y/n's anxiety didn't leave the twins alone for a minute.

"Please Fred, tell me at least the color of the glasses!" Y/n insisted on Fred saying at least a little detail about the party. The secret was complete.

"I already said that I don't speak a word to you, Y/n" The redhead replied laughing.

They were in a history of magic class, automatically nobody was paying attention. The twins sat in the last row, Y/n and Lee just ahead.

"What are the drinks going to be, that's no big deal!" Lee asked as curious as Y/n.

"Not a word, Lee," George replied with a sly smile on his face, the same as the one on his brother's face.

"I hate you both" Y/n said irritably and turned forward.

Fred who was behind Y/n leaned forward and rested his head on the girl's shoulder, whispering her ear. Fred's proximity to Y/n's ear made the girl get goosebumps and close her eyes while the redhead spoke. "You don't miss out on waiting, baby"

George and Lee exchanged a look that they knew well what it meant. Y/n and Fred have always had this relationship ... doubtful. Nothing but indirect flirtations happened between the two, there was never anything else. George and Lee always questioned the two of them if something happened in the backstage that they didn't see, and of course, the answer was always the same "We are just friends". Only friends my ass, George thought. The boy knew his brother well to know when he was lying.

Fred then returned to his seat and Y/n kept her eyes closed digesting the sensation she had just had, wishing it had lasted a little longer. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked several times, returning to reality.

"My God, the sexual tension between you two can be cut with a knife," Lee said making the three friends laugh.

"We are just friends, you know that" Y/n replied and noticed that this time Fred's laugh was not genuine. Apparently George noticed it too. But of course it could only be Y/n's head.

The class passed slowly as usual, but amid laughter, scolding from the teacher and notes on the parchment, time finally passed. It was already lunchtime and Y/n couldn't be more thankful for that. Her thoughts could go from Fred to the mountain of mashed potatoes that awaited her.

Weeks passed and the twins had not yet given any information about the party. It wasn't just Lee and Y/n who were looking forward now, all seventh graders as well. The fact that Umbridge was taking care of the school, making so many rules, only made things more exciting. The twins couldn't be loud ... At least not in theory.

Now everyone was in the common room, some doing their homework and others just hanging out. Everything was calm until the most beloved twins in the world came in doing what they do best, drawing attention.

“My dear student friends" George was saying.

"Me and my dear brother, we finally have the invitations ready!" Fred completed.

"And what does that mean, bro?" George asked doing a theatrical pose.

"That not even the pink toad was able to stop the Weasley Twins!" Fred completed again by opening his arms also in a theatrical way.

“But it’s worth remembering that the party is only for people from the fifth year upwards” Some sad moans were heard from some students from the fourth year downwards “So my little grasshoppers, you who didn’t taste one of our Halloween parties, will have to look for that taste in our store! ” George announced and the sad moans automatically turned into happy faces.

“That's right! We believe that very soon, our store will have a physical point and will be 100% prepared to serve all of you little pests! ” Fred said laughing and started handing out the invitations.

The invitations were not common, as nothing the twins did was common, no one was surprised, just curious. They were orange sweets in the shape of mini pumpkins.

“But is this sweet? How should we know where and when to go with a sweet? ” Ron asked as soon as George handed him one of the pumpkins.

"I suggest taking a bite, little brother," Fred said mockingly, handing one to Y/n. "I made this one especially for you" And winked at the girl. Hers was Y/F/C , your favorite color. As soon as the girl saw the candy she smiled at Fred and got a little flushed.

As soon as Ron took a bite of the fearful candy, sparkles that resembled fireworks with a date, time and place emerged from the pumpkin.

"We just suggest that you don't eat it whole, eating the other piece makes you invisible for 15 minutes, so you can go to the party without drawing unnecessary attention" Fred said with a smile on his face, proud of what he had done.

It was amazing how these boys were the life of the party wherever they went. Y/n smile so proudly for the boys. After the euphoria of delivery of the pumpkins, the boys sat on the sofa with only a few students in the room, most of had already gone to sleep. Y/n was in an armchair by the fireplace, reading a book. Fred settled on the floor in front of the girl and rested his head on her knees. George sat next to Lee on the couch.

"Okay, now that we have everything set up, what will your fantasy be?" George asked to his friends.

"I was thinking of going as a werewolf" Lee replied playing with the hem of his shirt.

"What a cliché, Lee" Hermione who was finishing up her homework said from across the room. She, Harry and Ron were actually finishing up their homework. But everyone knew that the boys were just waiting for Hermione to finish copying hers.

"You're right, he should go as you Hermione, who knows, maybe someone will put limits on this party?" Ron replied laughing, immediately regretting because of Hermione's furious reaction.

"And what are you going to be dressed up for?" Y/n asked lowering the book, she had stopped paying attention long ago.

"Us? Secret too" Fred replied to the girl.

"You guys are getting unbearable with this, you know?" Y/n said looking at the twins.

"Just noticed now?" Lee said sarcastically.

Y/n snorted angrily and pulled her legs up so that Fred could no longer lean on them, causing the boy to turn his head to her laughing.

"You look so beautiful when you're mad" He said and stood up and give her a kiss on the cheek. "I think it's past time for us to go to sleep, we need energy to organize what comes tomorrow, Georgie"

George got up too and agreed with his brother, so the two went up to the dorm wishing everybody a good night.

"I'll see if I can get anything out of them before bed, good night, Y/n" Lee said and went after the twins.

Harry was already drooling at the table, Ron was almost, only Hermione was still focused. Y/n got up and headed for the girls' dorm.

"Good night, Mione" Y/n said.

"When are you two going to assume you have more than a friendship, Y/n?" Hermione asked before she went up. The girl laughed and shook her head.

"We are just friends"

The following days passed with Y/n listening to discussions to see what would be the fantasy of her friends. Lee really was a werewolf, Hermione was from an important witch that nobody really understood who was just that had something to do with defending giants, Ron was going as a auror, Harry as a quidditch player, and of course the fantasy of Fred and George it was still a secret.

At breakfast on the day of the party, everyone was euphoric. The whispers came not only from the Gryffindor table, but from all of them, even some Slytherins were excited.

And because she kept her head elsewhere, Y/n ended up forgetting to think about her fantasy. Then, taking advantage of having a visit to Hogsmade that day, she asked Hermione for help in choosing a costume. The girls went to each clothing store until they found the perfect costume. That was it, they thought. It perfectly matched Y/n's personality.

The hours passed and now it was only an hour before the twins' Halloween party. The girls in Y/n's room were euphoric. They had pirates, healers, vampires, it looked like a children's book in one room. Y/n was finishing her makeup and would already be ready to leave. The outfit she had chosen was nothing less than court jester. Not a dull court jester, according to Hermione, and here I quote her words, she was a “sexually desirable jester”. A colorful short dress, socks to the thighs one of each color, hair tied with colored ribbons and a cute clown makeup. It was perfect.

"You look perfect, Y/n!" Angelina said to the girl with colored ribbons in her hair.

"You too, Angie, wonderful by the way!" Y/n said to her friend that was dressed as a fairy.

The two then descended together, meeting several people in costume in the main hall. And in the sea of mummies and mermaids, Y/n spotted the werewolf she was looking for.

“Lee! Lee! ” The girl called and Lee turned to see her.

"Y/n ... Bloody hell woman, now I understand what Fred talks about so much" Lee replied looking Y/n up and down.

"What does Fred say?" Y/n asked frankly eyebrows.

"He keeps saying you have phenomenal thighs," Lee replied, staring at her legs.

“Hey! Lee! Eyes up here! ” Y/n responded making the boy automatically look embarrassed, but then laughing.

"Let's go then?" Lee asked Y/n and she nodded.

The two then ate all the pumpkin and automatically the picture of the fat woman opening, looked like a passage of ghosts, no one was seen, all you could hear were footsteps and some muffled laughter through the corridors.

Finally, after walking a lot trying to make a minimum of noise, they reached the precise room. The door opened and the legion of students entered the place. When Fred and George said it was going to be the best Halloween party this school has ever seen, they weren't kidding.

There were already some students in the room, but the decor was clear. They had colorful and noiseless fireworks shining on the ceiling tirelessly, they seemed bewitched to last all night. The smoke on the ground made it look like a swamp, you could barely see people's feet. The tables set with various sweets with different shapes and a large bowl with punch, certainly alcoholic. The walls decorated with purple and orange ribbons all over the place. Of course, cobwebs, skeletons and pumpkins were placed in every corner. The music was loud, but it was not heard outside, they had also bewitched it. The only strange thing was that Fred and George were not yet in place.

More and more people were arriving and none of the twins. Y/n was having fun with Lee and other friends, but missed the redheaded duo. While some students were kissing in a corner and others were stuffing themselves with food, Y/n was dancing with a glass in her hand, like there's no tomorrow. She moved her hips from side to side without caring if she was drawing too much attention. Tonight was really for that.

The only part of the place that no one had understood was the stairway in the corner of the room that led to a balcony and a small door that nobody could open. After a while, Y/n ignored the stairs, and suddenly after the girl's third glass, the door made sense. It had opened up and the music had turned down the volume. There they were, Fred and George came out of the door in the costume of Kings. Y/n laughed with them and stopped dancing, looking at the boys.

"Feel free, my subjects, the party is yours today!" Fred said raising his hands.

"And remember, if you are not going to party like us, you can leave" George added.

"And let the party really start!" Fred shouted and everyone shouted in agreement.

The twins then descended the stairs, as if they were true kings. Strangely, their fantasy matched the boys perfectly. Y/n after seeing that the boys were already enjoying the party normally, she took another sip of her drink and started dancing again.

The music playing was sensual, and it is clear that the girl, with the courage that the drink gave her, took advantage of the moment. She had wanted to do this for years, and the opportunity never came, but now? Last year, she was going to do what she wanted without fear.

Y/n started to dance to the music, as sensual as the beat of each note. She knew they had several pairs of eyes on her, but only one interested her. Then the girl turned to where Fred was and she couldn't be more pleased to see that he was looking at her like a dog is looking at a piece of meat, with pure desire. She then danced looking directly at him.

Fred couldn't hold on any longer, he dodged the crowd and came very close to Y/n, grabbed her waist tightly and without thinking, he kissed the girl. It was as if everyone in the room had disappeared. They were just there, Y/n and Fred. The girl returned the kiss at the same time her lips met, placing her hands on the boy's neck.

The two separated only because they were forced to breathe. Keeping foreheads glued together. Smiling broadly. And you can hear George and Lee in the background shouting "Finally!" "Just friends, my ass!" And things like that. But Fred and Y/n couldn't care less.

"So.. hm, I think we're not just friends after all, huh?" Fred says laughing still being very close to you.

"I don't think we ever were just friends"

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x reader #imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley twins #fanfiction #Gryffindor #slytherin #x reader #george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter fanfiction #halloween #harry potter #a very harry potter halloween

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ultimatetrashyfanfic · 3 years ago

Text

Non-despair AU! And ever since I watched that thirty minute anime clip with Nagito’s perspective on things, I’ve really liked the idea of him being buds with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. And Nagito openly talks about his past trauma on a plane so… what better way to bond than bonding over trauma? Anyway, I love these three so much. Also Komahina because I love them - Circle

(Also forgot to add this, sorry, but it’s on AO3 too) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33483538

Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, nausea, motion sickness, very mild vomiting (like barely any).

Fuyuhiko always thought Nagito was spouting a whole load of bullshit when he lamented about his talent being useless; he would’ve loved having Ultimate Luck right now.

“Haha! You got the short straw, Fuyuhiko!” Akane crowed. “Tough luck!”

“Wait, no! Can’t we do a best of three?”

“Somebody has to sit with them, man,” Nekomaru said. “You guys are already friends, it’ll be a great bonding experience.”

“I don’t want to bond with them in that situation. Because you all know it’ll be a shit show. That’s why we’re fucking doing this,” Fuyuhiko growled, glaring at each of his classmates in turn. Only two were missing, the pair who’d triggered this whole unfortunate drawing of straws in the first place.

“Why can’t you sit with them, Hajime? Nagito is always hanging off you anyway. And Kazuichi is your friend too,” Fuyuhiko said.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Fuyuhiko.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t draw the short straw.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fuyuhiko stomped away, his classmates’ laughter echoing behind him. This class trip was already more trouble than it was worth and it hadn’t even started. He was almost tempted to skip the plane journey with the rest of them and hop on a different flight to Novoselic, just to show them. It wasn’t like he needed Sonia to pay his way. But she’d been so enthusiastic about taking her friends to see her home country, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t think of any way to tell her without causing offence. He couldn’t really say he just didn’t want to be stuck babysitting Kazuichi and Nagito on a flight.

It wasn’t that Fuyuhiko didn’t like Kazuichi and Nagito. Sure, Kazuichi could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and Nagito would go all weird and self-deprecating if you didn’t watch out, but Fuyuhiko still considered them close friends. But the flight to Novoselic was long. Kazuichi could get motion sickness on a fucking bicycle, and Nagito hadn’t set foot on a plane since his parents died on one right in front of his eyes. There was no way it could possibly go well. Fuyuhiko pictured hour after hour of Kazuichi puking and complaining and Nagito… well, he wasn’t sure what the hell Nagito would do. He’d never seen Nagito get flustered before. Hell, that was much more terrifying. He had to get out of this.

In the days before the trip, Fuyuhiko kept trying to convince his kinder classmates to take responsibility for at least one of the other men. “It’s gonna be impossible to help them both,” Fuyuhiko said. “It’ll be better for them if you help me.”

“You could sit between them,” Mahiru said. “And I’ve already promised Hiyoko I’ll sit with her. Sorry.”

Asking Twogami was a no-go too. “It’ll be more considerate to the other passengers if they’re both in one area,” he said. “To limit the disturbance if they become distressed.”

“I’m the one who’ll be feeling fucking distressed,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Peko overheard, and came over at once. “I’ll take your burden, young master.”

“No, not you!” Fuyuhiko hated the whine in his tone - and he hated the smirk on Twogami’s face too. “You don’t have to do it. You sit with Gundham and pet his hamsters or something. I… I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Damn it. He could be as bad as Kazuichi sometimes.

There was no way to wriggle out of it. The morning of the trip dawned bright and sunny, and Fuyuhiko’s ticket set him directly between Kazuichi and Nagito. Fantastic.

At least check-in and security went by reasonably peacefully, the walk to their gate quiet. Only Akane and Nekomaru seemed to be properly awake this early in the day, and they stuck with each other. Fuyuhiko glanced at his two friends. Kazuichi still seemed half-asleep, curled on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the gate, watching the planes take off and land in the distance through the huge windows. Nagito was much more concerning. He was smiling brightly… but he didn’t look happy at all.

“Hey, Fuyuhiko, want to know how a plane engine works?” Kazuichi asked.

“No,” he said, but he sat down with a sigh as Kazuichi started talking anyway. He tuned out after a second, though Nagito looked like he was listening.

“Seeing you talk about your ultimate talent is so inspiring, Kazuichi,” Nagito said - and smiled. That weird smile again, desperate and strained.

“It’s nothing. I just think planes are interesting. From an engineering point of view. I really wish I didn’t have to fucking ride one,” Kazuichi groaned.

“Aha, I can’t help feeling apprehensive too. The last time I was on a flight, both my parents died.” Nagito spoke emotionlessly, as if reciting a shopping list, but that smile was still fixed on his face. “But it’s okay. That bad luck brought me a lot of good luck later on. You just have to have hope that things will work out.”

Kazuichi stared at him, mouth open. “Um. Okay. Sorry.” He caught Fuyuhiko’s eye and mouthed what the fuck? Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure if Kazuichi was just now hearing the story or if he was confused by Nagito’s weird behaviour. He shrugged helplessly.

There wasn’t much conversation after that. You couldn’t really carry on your casual chit-chat right after somebody brought up their dead parents. Fuyuhiko kept an eye on Nagito. He was bolt upright in his seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, hands clasped so tight in his lap his knuckles bleached white. With his pale hair and ashen face, he looked like all the blood had drained out of him completely.

Their flight number was called far too soon, and Fuyuhiko dragged his motley crew to the right aisle, pondering where to put everyone. Kazuichi should probably be on the end if he’d be passing vomit bags to some poor stewardess. Fuyuhiko needed to be in the middle, so that left Nagito by the window. He’d have to keep the shutter pulled down.

Hajime passed them on the way to his own seat, and stopped short when he saw Nagito’s face. He leaned right over Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, ignoring their complaints and curses, and took Nagito’s hand. “Are you alright? You look… off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hajime.”

“Your hands are clammy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How disgusting for you,” Nagito said, smiling. Always smiling.

“That’s not what I meant… Look, do you want to sit with me?”

“Can we move it along please?” somebody called irritably down the aisle.

“You’re holding up the line, Hajime. Don’t worry about me,” Nagito repeated. Hajime looked like he was worrying dreadfully, but he was forced to move along. Nagito clasped his hands again and fixed his gaze on the seat in front, smiling smiling smiling. It was freaking Fuyuhiko out. He looked like he was wearing a mask and his eyes were the only real part of him, swirling with turmoil.

“Hey.” Kazuichi nudged Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Are Hajime and Nagito… you know. A thing?”

“Mate, you told me you’ve seen them leave Hajime’s cabin together in the mornings.”

“They could just be having a sleepover. As bros.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Kazuichi.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want Hajime to get a new best friend,” Kazuichi said.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “I think you’re safe.”

There was a pause. Then another shoulder nudge a second later. “So Hajime and Nagito? Seriously? Am I the only person on my own in this class?” Kazuichi muttered.

Fuyuhiko was spared from responding by the flight attendants starting the safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the oxygen masks and the life jackets in case of emergency. He had to admit, it was pretty eerie to think that you could, however unlikely it may be, crash into the ocean or need extra oxygen to live long enough to get to land. He glanced over at Nagito nervously. His arms were now curled across his chest, hands gripping his elbows. His head was bent, a cloud of puffy hair hiding his face. Maybe that was for the best.

“Can you try not to puke as long as possible?” Fuyuhiko whispered to Kazuichi. “I feel like I might have a situation to deal with.”

“I’m never trying to puke,” Kazuichi said, but he seemed worried too, glancing past Fuyuhiko. “Hey, Nagito, you doing alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kazuichi,” Nagito said, eerily calmly.

“That’s not the same thing as saying you’re fine, is it?” Kazuichi whispered to Fuyuhiko.

“He’s clearly not fucking fine,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Should I ask Hajime to swap?” Kazuichi asked.

Fuyuhiko nodded, but before Kazuichi could even undo his seatbelt, the plane jerked and started reversing out of the gate. Fuyuhiko heard Nagito draw in his breath sharply - then he was the one fumbling for his seatbelt, standing unsteadily.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Fuyuhiko yelled, catching onto the back of Nagito’s coat as he tried to clamber over the seats. “Sit down!”

“I’m afraid I need to get off,” Nagito said, voice still calm despite his frantic movements.

“It’s already moving, for God’s sake! Sit down before a flight attendant sees you!” It wasn’t hard to force Nagito back into his seat - he seemed light enough for a strong gust of wind to knock him over - and Souda hastily got the belt fastened again just as the plane rolled onto the runway.

“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine,” Fuyuhiko gabbled, trying hard not to shout or swear or scream at all his classmates for making him deal with this. “Just sit still and… I dunno, plug your ears. The takeoff part is the worst.”

There was a cacophony of whirring as the engines roared to life and Fuyuhiko would be very grateful for all that noise in a second, because Nagito started to laugh. Dry, hysterical laughter, his eyes over-bright and manic, lips bared in that grisly parody of a smile.

“Has he lost his fucking mind?” Kazuichi asked, sounding genuinely frightened.

“You must really hate me, Fuyuhiko,” Nagito gasped. “To restrain me here… You must despise me.”

“I’m not restraining you!”

“Then let me off.” He locked eyes with Fuyuhiko and for a second the manic grin faded. “Please…”

The engines roared to a crescendo and the plane shot forward so quickly everyone was pinned to their seats with the force, zooming on and on until they could feel the entire structure lurch into the air. Kazuichi groaned softly, shutting his eyes, but Fuyuhiko was far more focused on Nagito. He had his eyes squeezed shut too, but his hand clamped hard onto Fuyuhiko’s arm. Really fucking hard. Shit, maybe Nagito wasn’t as weak as he looked. Fuyuhiko cursed as his terrified companion started digging his nails into his skin, actually drawing blood. The pain prompted Fuyuhiko to try prying the hand loose a little, but Nagito clamped on harder, carving several new scratches. Fuyuhiko didn’t dare attempt again; he’d get his arm cut to ribbons.

When the plane was flying high and the swirling, disoriented feeling had eased, Fuyuhiko checked on both men. Kazuichi had his head in his hands, but he gave a shaky thumbs up when Fuyuhiko prodded him.

“‘M okay,” he mumbled. “Got through takeoff. Gets better when it’s levelling out.”

“Right, good. Try to stay that way, yeah? I’ve got a lot to handle right now,” Fuyuhiko sighed. Nagito was still shredding his arm up, but he could feel one finger tapping for attention.

“What? What do you need? Please, no bullshit, Nagito. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Fuyuhiko said. He was practically yelling in his panic, and the people across the aisle turned to glare.

It was several seconds before Nagito could gather enough breath to speak. Fuyuhiko saw that awful smile stretch across his face again, like somebody had twisted his frown the wrong way round. “Aha, I’m sorry to trouble you, Fuyuhiko, but I think I might be having a panic attack.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko felt like he was going to have a panic attack too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t seem to catch my breath. And the cabin has been spinning for several minutes.”

“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuyuhiko hurriedly pushed Nagito’s head down as far as it would go before it bumped the seat in front. “Fucking… think of things you can see or something? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Five things you can see,” Kazuichi chimed in. “Is he really gonna pass out? Hajime is gonna kill us.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him for leaving this shit to us! How stupid can you get?”

“Ahh, I’m such a nuisance. If I’d known I’d react in such a shameful way, I’d have been sure to take a seat away from all the Ultimates. Why are you taking care of someone like me?”

“Nagito, shut up, this isn’t your fault,�� Fuyuhiko said shortly. “Stop babbling on about ultimates and do the panic attack thing. Listen to Kazuichi, he knows how to do it.”

Nagito did as he was told, working through the grounding techniques with Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko held onto his shoulders feeling helpless. Nagito was shaking so hard it was difficult not to drop him altogether. He didn’t pass out, but even after the grounding Nagito looked far from what you’d consider calm. He was grey-white when Fuyuhiko carefully hauled him back upright.

“Are you okay..?”

The smile came back, though it seemed a lot more tired than manic this time. “Ah… I don’t think so, Fuyuhiko.”

“Well. At least you’re honest. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Physically, I mean. Clearly I see you’re fucked mentally. And please stop smiling like that, you’re creeping me out,” Fuyuhiko said.

Nagito finally released his grip on Fuyuhiko’s arm, his nails coated with blood. He bent forward slowly, carefully, like he was terrified any sudden movements would send him spiralling again, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I still feel slightly lightheaded. And nauseous. I’d still like to get off.”

Fuyuhiko examined the long scratches on his arm, sighing and mopping the blood with his sleeve. “Well, you’d have a long drop if you tried to get off now. You should cut your damn fingernails too. I’m going to get Hajime.” He turned to Kazuichi. “Watch him for a minute, okay? I don’t fucking care about drawing the short straw anymore, I can’t handle this.” Fuyuhiko scrambled over Kazuichi’s lap into the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant yelling for him to remain in his seat until the seatbelt signs went off.

“Hey! What did you mean drawing the short straw?” Kazuichi called behind him. Fuyuhiko didn’t look back.

“Hajime!” Fuyuhiko yelled when he was still more than six aisles away from the startled man. “You’re swapping with me!” He lowered his voice when he reached Hajime’s seat, but only marginally. “I can’t handle this. I don’t know how you expected Komeada to react to this shit, but whatever you thought, it’s worse. Way fucking worse. And I can’t help him. So go fucking do it yourself.”

“Well, I was going to swap as soon as the seatbelt signs were off,” Hajime said pointedly.

“I don’t give a shit. Look at my arm! Your fucking boyfriend nearly ripped it off at the elbow.” Fuyuhiko brandished his scratched, bloodied arm, and Hajime looked genuinely shocked.

“Oh my God…” He stood up hastily, clinging to the seats in front as the plane was still slightly off-balance. “I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko. I didn’t expect him to panic so much. He never said anything much about it when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, no offence, Hajime, but you can be as thick as three short planks sometimes. So if he implied anything, I don’t doubt you missed it,” Fuyuhiko snapped, taking Hajime’s empty seat - next to Chiaki, thank goodness. She hadn’t even looked up from her Switch this whole time. Perfect.

“I have taken some offence…” Hajime mumbled, then turned to go back down the aisle, trying hard not to catch the eyes of the other passengers staring like they were all part of a circus act. He was pretty sure the whole class was going to get banned from this airline. Gundham had been in trouble already for taking his hamsters out of their little travelling cage - several times. He was insulted by the insistence of the staff that all pets had to be contained, both by their labelling of his hamsters as mere pets and from their implication that his dark devas could ever be contained.

Hajime followed the sounds of more disgruntled passengers to Nagito’s seat. He was in the middle now, hunched over one of those white sick bags, while Kazuichi awkwardly patted his back. He looked relieved to see Hajime, beckoning frantically. “Come help me! I think he’s gonna spew. Weird that it’s not me for once.”

Hajime sighed, struggling to shuffle past his friends to get to Nagito’s other side, squashed by the window. Nagito didn’t acknowledge him. Hajime could see he had his eyes closed, his face strangely calm and smooth, though his breathing was erratic.

“Hey, Nagito? You hearing me?” Hajime called, tapping the other man’s pale cheek.

“Did I drive Fuyuhiko away?” Nagito said, voice strained. “I’m not surprised. To bother the Ultimates with the problems of an insignificant nobody like me.”

“Dude, shut up,” Kazuichi groaned. “Nobody thinks that. Stop being so weird. Fuyuhiko just doesn’t know how to look after people.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up? I doubt you’ll throw up, you wouldn’t eat anything this morning,” Hajime said.

At that exact moment, almost as if to pointedly prove him wrong, Nagito made a choked retching sound and ducked his head down further, cringing.

“Oookay. Or not. Um. You’re okay,” Hajime muttered, placing a wary hand on Nagito’s hair to keep it out of the way. It was strange hair; soft yet thick at the same time, and it poofed up determinedly no matter how many times Ibuki tried him out with different hairstyles.

The seatbelt signs were now off, so Kazuichi stood up hastily, trying to shield Nagito from the people hurrying up the aisle to the bathrooms. Hajime was grateful, but part of him wished he could switch places with Souda. He didn’t think he’d be having to coach Nagito through something so strangely intimate so soon into their… relationship? They’d never come out and actually said they were boyfriends, not even to each other, but their classmates seemed to think they were a couple.

As Nagito really hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, the actual vomiting didn’t last too long, but the dry heaving continued for several agonising minutes, and the nausea remained indefinitely. But Nagito felt safe to lift him head, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. He smiled shakily at Hajime. “How embarrassing. I caused a scene in front of all these people. You must be lamenting the day you set eyes on me.”

“Stop,” Hajime sighed, taking the soiled bag and handing it to Kazuichi.

“Hajime!” Souda squealed, hastily handing it off to a flight attendant, who offered a bottle of water for Nagito in response. Her smile didn’t slip once. Hajime was impressed by her poker face.

“Drink,” Hajime prompted, forcing the bottle into Nagito’s hands. “I want you to try eating something later too. You’re going to pass out.”

Kazuichi sat down again, glancing at Nagito. “You feeling… okay now? Like as okay as you can?”

Nagito took a long drink of water, eyes blank. Then he smiled again, that strange, forced smile. “I really am pathetic, aren’t I? Causing such a dramatic spectacle over something that happened years ago. I don’t deserve such attention from the Ultim-“

“Stop!” Hajime took Nagito’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Hajime thought he saw something flicker in them, some semblance of an honest emotion. “Nagito, can you please stop trying to act like you don’t have feelings. I know you’re scared. And you know what? It’s okay. It’s completely fucking normal to feel like this right now. I shouldn’t have left you. That was me being dense, and I’m sorry. But you can stop pretending. It’s just me here - and Kazuichi, but he’ll understand too. He’s scared of everything.”

“I am not!” Kazuichi cried, outraged.

Hajime didn’t break eye contact with Nagito, both breathing heavily. Nagito glared back at first, his face twisting into a scowl, but Hajime didn’t falter.

“Let me in,” Hajime muttered. “I know you, for God’s sake. You’re not gonna scare me off. It’s okay to need help. Please.”

Another silence for several long, tense seconds. Then - finally, amazingly - Nagito made a soft frustrated noise, lunged forwards and wound his arms around Hajime’s neck so tightly that for a second Hajime thought he’d messed up so badly Nagito was trying to throttle him.

“Hey, careful,” Hajime said, but his voice was gentle and he didn’t try to pry Nagito off. Nagito let his forehead rest on Hajime’s shoulder, his hair falling to shield his face completely. Hajime snaked his own arms awkwardly around Nagito’s slender waist. He could feel Nagito shaking, feel the warm puff of his breathing against his shoulder. The shaking never eased, but as time passed the breathing seemed to calm slightly.

Nagito didn’t speak as he clung to Hajime for dear life. Not a single word. But Hajime hadn’t really expected him to. This was already a degree of vulnerability that Nagito was completely unaccustomed to showing anyone, let alone his almost-boyfriend, his classmates and an entire plane full of strangers. It was a good place to start.

Kazuichi watched them slightly bitterly. “It’s alright for some. I wouldn’t mind someone to cuddle up to,” he muttered.

“That’s your other talent. Ultimate Third Wheel,” Hajime quipped.

Their row of seats was reasonably peaceful after that, though Hajime could hear the laughter and yelling from their classmates further back. He hoped the sensible members of the group could stop them causing too much trouble. Hajime couldn’t go tell them to knock it off himself; whenever he moved at all Nagito would tighten his grip.

He sat there, hour after hour, until he had to pry Nagito off him for a bathroom break. It wasn’t easy. Nagito fought him and clung on as much as he could, though Hajime explained he’d be back in five minutes.

“Look, cling onto Kazuichi while I go pee,” Hajime suggested. Kazuichi didn’t look overly enthusiastic about that idea, but he didn’t protest.

Nagito sighed. He slowly drew back his arms, and whispered three breathy little words into Hajime’s shirt before he went, perhaps the most raw, vulnerable words Hajime had ever heard Nagito say: “Please come back.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.

Nagito shifted shakily in his seat, turned to Kazuichi and lunged at him too, wrapping his arms around his neck. Kazuichi squealed and whined that he was being strangled, but he didn’t shove Nagito away. Hajime almost felt like they were new parents, passing their newborn between them: “I’ll hold him for a bit, you go to the loo.”

There was a queue for the tiny airplane bathrooms. Hajime stood impatiently, wriggling his cramped shoulders and rocking back on his heels; he was glad Nagito seemed to be trusting him more, but he was pretty stiff after sitting in the same position for hours.

Two women ahead of Hajime in the queue seemed to be having an animated discussion about something, and when Hajime caught the word “school” he started to listen properly.

“I don’t know what sort of school they come from, but they’re a strange bunch,” one lady hissed. “There’s an odd boy in the row ahead of me, one of that lot, who has a collections of rodents, all free from their cage! Running all over the seat trays! Well, that’s not very hygienic, is it? But when I told him as much, he gave me the most incredibly rude answer.”

“Young people have such foul mouths these days,” the other lady agreed.

“No, he wasn’t swearing. It was ever so strange, almost as if he was… well, you’ll think I sound silly. But it was like he was cursing me.”

It was a good job for Hajime that the toilet became available and the lady rushed inside, because he was biting his cheeks to contain his laughter. When he’d used the loo himself and gone back to release Kazuichi from Nagito’s vice grip, he recited the story for both of them.

Kazuichi laughed, poking Nagito gently. “There you are, Nagito. No need to worry. No matter how weird we are, we can always count on Gundham to be weirder.”

Nagito didn’t respond, but Hajime saw a hint of a smile - a real smile - on his lips before he buried his face in Hajime’s neck again.

#super danganronpa two #danganronpa 2 #emeto tw #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #kazuichi souda #fuyuhiko kuzuryu #panic attacks #past trauma #komahina #fear of flying #non despair au #mod circle #our writing

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