#it’s on me I think yeah bc I hadn’t opened this laptop in years bc it was the one I got from my university freshman year and I didn’t rly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelguk · 3 years ago

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omg so i sent in an ask re angst jock jk n oc ! but then i also realized its highly possible these 2 break up at one point while in uni mostly bc of the "are we dating bc its convenient" kinda dilemma and then it just pushes them apart bc they think theyre losing theirselves while being in such a close relationship,,,cue save ur tears by theweeknd BUT i just know when they grow up a lil bit more, theyll end up together <3

here we go! (the beginning of the end....may be...)

didn’t include save your tears as the soundtrack but may haps for the follow-up :3

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: angst, yes the break-up scene, jaykay being an ass (a very huge one motivated by his own insecurities and selfishness – translation: he’d rather break her heart and carry that weight than be the heartbroken one), chayoung is no longer Seed of Doubt but something else (still up for debate but she’s fairly nice here), not edited but hey atp that’s part of my branding (also i would like everyone to consider that oc is not the greatest gf ever like guys don’t hate jk alone!!)

soundtrack: bags, clairo + stay, gracie abrams + say you know, alina baraz

(titled — honeymoon fades)

Jeongguk’s contact name hasn’t lit up the screen of your phone for six days now and you haven’t seen his face for just as long. It’s weird to go from constant incessant communication to complete and utter radio silence. Not a single meme deposited in your Instagram inbox, no random notification from his Twitter. Just silence, quiet brewing silence.

It breaks two days later when Chayoung finds you coddled under your duvet, mouth stuffed with the saccharine sweetness of mint chocolate. (Jeongguk kept a stash of it at your place but who was around to eat it anymore apart from you?).

“And why do you look like you live in a dumpster?” She’d hummed, ripping open the curtains you’d involuntarily welded shut.

“Because that’s how I feel inside,” you’d retorted, pushing aside your laptop. The screen is stuck with an image of an idiotic character named Nabi kissing the spawn of Satan. You hope for her sake it works out. Chayoung had huffed at your response, fondly whacking your head with a stray pillow.

“Well get over that feeling cause we’re going out tonight.” A declaration, the fierceness in her feline eyes a warning that you’re not allowed to even think of saying no. That doesn’t mean you hadn’t tried – sorrowful eyes and pouted lips as you begged her to spare you. But Chayoung is a force of nature, one that could easily wreak havoc on your delicateness. And she does though, with a string of comments that propels you out of the miserable burrow you’d dug up.

“You’re killing everyone, you know?” She’d supplied, yanking open your closet. “You’re sulking, Jeongguk is shutting down. He’s said like five words since this whole...thing...you have going on.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that, toying with the corner of the large grey shirt donned on your body. Jeongguk’s shirt. One of his favourites actually. You’d thought about stealing it after spying it on his obsessively neat laundry pile, but after seeing your wandering eyes he’d given it to you instead.

“He always does that,” you’d said after Chayoung had whipped her head in your direction, curved eyebrows perplexed. “I mean, shut down. It’s his emotional response to things that bother him. Complete detachment so it hurts less.”

She had just stared at you, a long meaningful look at left your skin prickled.

“Huh.”

“What do you mean ‘huh’?”

A measured step forward, her body weight sinking into the edge of your mattress a moment later. “I mean, you know him so well.”

“Of course I do he’s my best-friend,” you’d said, indignation coating your words

“No–No you're not getting me. You know him. You know he wouldn’t make the move to reconcile–”

“But he should!”

“You told him to go away! He’s trying to listen to you even though he’s hurting!”

And maybe that was it, that simple implication that you were causing him pain that had you pausing, reviewing the things you’d said to him – the things you’d felt.

“But,” a timid rebuttal, “I just–I just need him to show me that he cares.”

“He does,” Chayoung had returned. “So much. And he misses you. He’s probably just afraid that you don’t feel the same.”

“But I do! He knows this.”

“Does he?” A question in her eyes, one that you’re afraid you know the honest answer to.

You say things and never mean them, he had said, eyes hard.

That had hurt you but perhaps he was right, there are things you hadn’t told him, feelings you hadn’t truly expressed. And Jeongguk had always been good to you, so understanding and caring, trying to fill the places were you lacked. Wasn’t he the one who planned the majority of your dates? Remembered all the important milestones of your relationship while you contributed the bare minimum. You hadn’t even told Chayoung about the surprise he had planned for your one-year anniversary, the shame of your own choice hanging heavy over your head.

So that’s why you’re here, staring at the back of his head forlornly as the music drifts around you, flashing florescent lights bathing him a hazy glory. He hasn’t seen you yet (something you’re thankful for because oddly enough you feel sick to your stomach). It feels like you’re skating on thin ice, waiting for the impending crack to sound through your heart, ice water swallowing you whole immediately. Chayoung is the one who pushes you forward, gingerly plucking the idle drink from your hand, Jimin aiding her efforts with a soft smile your way.

It’s time for you to try the way Jeongguk has, put aside that bumbling ego that oversees your actions and adopt the humility he’s always granted you.

“Go,” she murmurs. “He misses you.”

And God you hope he does because you’ve missed him too.

Except the moment his honey eyes land on you you know he hasn’t.

“Jeongguk,” you mumble. Yoonoh is frozen beside him, concerned gaze flicking between your faces. Your own eyes are stuck on him, the shape of his nose, the curve of his lips, the subtle hint of the dimple in his cheeks.

You’ve missed him, and it slips from your heart and brims in your eyes, vision blurry as your blink those stray tears back inside.

“Hi,” you add, when his silence doesn’t break.

“I should probably go,” Yoonoh lets out, awkward words bumping into the wall of tension standing firm between you to. He settles a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, sending him a look that feels loaded. “See you guys later, right?”

You nod, finally noticing the lump clogging your throat. “Yeah, sure.” Jeongguk just hums, the edge of his cup caught between his lips. Yoonoh flees within seconds, leaving you to wade through this alone.

“I–I know you’re not happy with me right now, but please, can we just talk?” He blinks at you, it feels like a premonition. “Please?”

“Okay.” The simple word fills you, like a hollow you weren’t aware of finally found the cure needed.

“Okay,” a small smile on your lips. Jeongguk’s face is still unreadable. He guides you up and away from the deafening sound of the song bleeding from the speakers, into an empty room, the door closing behind him muting the music and giving way to the own pounding in your head. Nobody says anything for a second, both of you navigating this uncharted territory of animosity. Until Jeongguk sighs, melting into the bed at the centre of the room. You follow suit, allocating enough space between the two of you. You’ve ever had to do that before.

“You said you wanted to talk?” Jeongguk finally cuts through it, eyes unforgiving when he glances at you.

“I did! I do–Just Jeongguk,” you can’t help it drifting out. “I miss you.”

Nothing, not even a flicker in his eyes. He eyes shift to the floor instead. “Okay. I that what you wanted to say?”

“No–No not just that! I’ve missed you Jeongguk and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that i went off on you like that and I’m sorry I haven’t been the best towards you and I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I didn’t care about you–or made you feel like the things I said or did had no meaning behind them. Because they do–they do because I love you. I love you so so much and I’m sorry if I made it seem like otherwise.” You automatically extend out for him, hoping to grasp on his thing floating to fast away from you. Jeongguk shifts and you hand tumbles down to the empty space between you instead, halted by his hesitance.

His head drops into his palms a second later, a broken exhale leaving his lips. The motion cause the silver bracelet on his wrist to slip down the length of his arm. It jolts something in you. Jeongguk had given you a matching one but you’d ripped it off after the last argument and hadn’t considered putting it back on. But Jeongguk was still wearing his.

“Do you really?”

“What?” He’s staring at you know, doe eyes cloudy.

“Do you really love me?” There, that stupid evil vile question that you thought you had the answer to but the words vanish in your head the longer he looks at you.

“I do–what? What are you implying? Of course, I do.”

“Of course, you do,” Jeongguk echoes. His eyes turn to the window located over his shoulder. You can see his head working through something, and you’re suddenly terrified fingertips itching to wander through his curls and coax those thoughts from his head.

“Jeongguk? What the hell are you talking about? Talk to me, please.”

He sighs again, at it feels like your heart splinters. A sudden shake of his head and Jeongguk twists back to face you, a silent tear falling down his cheek.

“You don’t love me.”

“Wh–What are you talking about? I do! And how can you decide my feelings for me?”

“No. You don’t love me the way you think you do–the way you should.” It feels like he’s saying it to more than you, like he’s saying it to himself. “Maybe this the wrong choice to make. You know. Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”

You shatter just like that, shards on the floor as you stare him, this person that you thought you knew. And maybe the feeling is mutual because Jeongguk is staring at you in a similar way, searching for the courage to say the words you know lie in his heart. Like a loaded cannon, waiting for the match to strike and leave you lying in pieces.

“I think we should break–"

“No,” you cut him off with an adamance that you didn’t know existed until right then. “No, you’re not gonna say that and we are not doing this.”

His eyes narrow then, jaw set. “This is not about ‘us’, I’m doing what’s right for me.”

“How is that right? Huh, Jeongguk? Don’t you care about this? Don’t you care about me?”

He looks away then, ignoring your questions, his throat stuck.

“Jeongguk...” You reach out again, and he allows it, shoulders sinking with the weight of your hand on them. “Don’t you care about me?”

Another heavy exhale, his eyes blinking hard. “I do. And that’s why this won’t work, not the way it should at least. I really think we should end this, or at least reconsider the reasons why we’re together. You say you love me–you say you always have but really–really think about it. About me and us and what we are. I’m sorry, I really am but I just can’t do this anymore.”

He rises then, your outstretched hand tumbling down to the empty space he’d left behind. You can’t move it, can’t breathe, your heart hurtling out of your chest and onto the ground where it lies, fragmented beyond repair and bleeding bare. You glance up through tears, watch him open his mouth and then it and look away.

“Do you mean it?” You finally ask, and his eyes snap to you. He knows what you’re saying. There’s a pause that stretches out for eternity, coloured by the sound of the ringing in your head.

“Maybe.” It cuts right through you, lodging itself deep with intent. And then you just have to nod, swallow the scream clawing at your throat. He murmurs one more apology before his feet carry him away, and you watch, forlorn as you burn his frame into your memory, as your whole world walks out the door.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #au: jock!jaykay #i really abused the hyphen in this but oh well

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astranva · 4 years ago

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TikTok Series | Anyway, so.

Word Count: 1.2k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Idk, language? Idk anymore but no heavy stuff it’s literally just TikTok content

Request: for your tik tok series i can imagine y/n and harry trending and harry would be like “what did you post now?” and it would actually be the fans this time. the “i’ve never seen two pretty best friends” with videos of them being like they are both pretty so that’s a lie. loving that series

** THIS IS SO CUTE I LOVE IT! i hope you like it, and let me know what you think 🤍

// masterlist //

The numbers only went up with your TikTok; the views, the likes, the comments, and the followers.

What started as just you having fun during quarantine, ended with a verified account and demanding fans of your boyfriend asking you to take part in many challenges and pranks.

“y/n’s tiktok is basically just her cooking or pranking harry or dueting stans’ videos with a hood on and i love every second of it”

“tiktokers: doing stupid shit to gain money

y/n: anyway dudes, here’s how to make grilled cheese with no cheese for if you’re too broke to get any”

“when y/n duets thirsty tiktoks I just can’t help but think of how much I want a partner this chill”

“can anyone start any new couple challenge already? I want new harry & y/n content k thanks”

Fans were vocal about how much fun they had with your TikTok, some adding sentiments that made you emotional like;

“never thought I’d feel connected to anyone who’s with harry but here’s y/n replying to tiktok comments like we’re all a bunch of friends”

“I kid you not, the reason why I’m excited to eat at school is because I’m always excited to try y/n’s easy recipes and I just love her so much”

“not me meeting y/n, harry styles’ gf, at the grocery store today and greeting her like we grew up together bc that’s how I feel about her”

Along with laughing together at videos, you and Harry also seemed to always have a new catchy song to sing around the house ever since you first installed the app, with how it has helped artists’ music go viral. Hell, even funny songs would get stuck in your brains.

On your phone was proof of that. Standing behind an oblivious Harry as he cooked one day, he was in shorts and a tight top, flipping toast on the stove as he sang, “Chicken wing, chicken wing, hot dog and bologna, chicken and macaroni, chillin’ with my homies,” wiggling his butt as he did.

You hadn’t posted since the “How well do our brains work together” TikTok you posted with Harry, so when you saw yours and Harry’s ship name trending with 84.7 million views to it, you were confused to say the least.

Sitting beside Harry as he was on his laptop, you moved closer to lean against his side, his arm reflexively wrapping around you.

“We’re trending on TikTok.”

“Aren’t we always?” He smugly asked, looking at you.

“No,” you laughed, “Usually after I post something, yeah, but I haven’t posted in two weeks.” You said as you clicked on the hashtag, seeing pictures of you and Harry in many videos along with different faces with titles.

Clicking on a video with 6.3 million views, you and Harry watched as a girl filmed herself with the background music sounding and someone speaking through it, “I ain’t never seen two pretty best friend. It’s always one of ‘em gotta be ugly.”

The music then stopped, Nicki Minaj’s voicing being heard, “Ummm...Chile. Anyway, so,” before Noahplause’s song, Runnin’, came, and with it came pictures of you and Harry.

A picture of the both of you from Dunkirk’s premiere; Harry in his suit with his arm around your waist as he looked down at you with a smile. You in a dress that matched the color of his suit, one hand on his chest and another on his shoulder, smiling to the cameras.

A picture of you lying on the sand at the beach in your swimsuit with your eyes closed, Harry’s head resting on your stomach as he looked up at the camera with a neutral face, it being a picture from when he was filming the Watermelon Sugar music video.

A candid picture taken by paps of Harry standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your head as you stood in a park with a couple of friends.

A selfie you had posted to your Instagram story of you lying your head on Harry’s shoulder, him looking to the side, making his sharp jawline perfectly appear.

A picture of you and Harry kissing from one New Year’s party you attended; your hands on his cheeks, his tangled in your hair. It was a low-quality picture, but it still showed clearly that it was the both of you.

You and Harry were watching with amused expressions, laughing in surprise at the trend his fans seemed to start.

“This is so cute, what!” You laughed at the video, “Let’s watch another one and duet it.”

“What does that mean? What do we do?” Harry asked, looking at you.

“It means, I’ll choose to duet so when I post it, the two videos will be aligned together and we’ll watch that video as we record.” You explained, scrolling before pausing the next video and tapping on ‘Duet.’

“So, it’s like a reaction?”

“Exactly,” you nodded, “Ready?”

“Yes.” Harry grinned, turning his body slightly.

Your phone showed yours and Harry’s faces, both of you with small smiles before you made sure that the mic was opened and began recording, the video you were reacting to beginning to play.

It started with a ceiling as the man spoke his line. When it came to the guy saying “two pretty best friends”, Harry had mouthed along, gesturing between the both of you making you laugh.

Nicki then spoke, and in came Runnin’ with pictures of you and Harry.

First one was of just you smiling to the camera.

At this, Harry’s smile widened.

Second one was Harry smirking at one of his shows from 2018.

You hummed, nodding slowly.

Third one was of you with makeup, an eyebrow raised and a hand to your temple, posing for the camera.

“Insanely good.” Harry said slowly with a shake of his head, eyes fixed on the phone. You cooed, pouting at his comment.

Fourth one was of Harry smirking in the tulle-detail, off-shoulder trench coat from his Vogue photoshoot.

“This one, yes!” You exclaimed, causing Harry to laugh.

Fifth one was the same picture of the both of you from when he was shooting his Watermelon Sugar music video.

“I love this one so much.” Harry said before giving a genuine closed-lipped smile as he remembered the exact moment the picture was taken.

“Right?” You smiled.

Sixth one was a video of the both of you dancing, your arms around his neck, his hands holding your waist, as it showed the both of you grooving with Harry singing to you with a smile on his face.

“Shut up, I didn’t know this existed.” You gasped, Harry chuckling.

Seventh one was a picture taken by a friend of yours; your eyes were closed in childlike happiness, Harry sitting beside you and looking down at you with a dopey smile as one of his hands squished your cheeks.

“Hey, that’s my lockscreen!” Harry beamed, instantly holding his phone to yours, showing that the last picture was, in fact, his lockscreen so excitedly before the video ended.

Posting the video, you added a caption to it:

“we have the biggest smiles on our faces. you’re all so adorable thank you😭 (also 10/10 for calling us best friends)”

“We are best friends,” Harry said, letting out a sigh before dramatically wrapping both arms around you, giving you a squeeze, “Best of!”

#harry styles imagine #tiktok series #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff one shot #fluff #ik i reposted this like 3 times but tumblr just wouldnt show the tags #harry styles fake social media #harry styles tiktok

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lovelykei · 4 years ago

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Haikyuu boyfriends on insta pt. 4‼️

These are pretty fun to make even tho it takes me a hot minute 🥵

I’m really glad to see you guys enjoying these! So here’s part 4!

(I’m currently working on the flower shop requests and another boyf on insta request so have these crumbs while I get my shit together 😀)

The bois: Kuroo, Tsukishima, Kenma

Kuroo:

I think it’s pretty canon that Kuroo wears the big boy pants in any relationship really

So today you had decided to steal the big boy pants and wear them yourself 😤

Holding the door open to let him walk first

Keeping him on the safe side of the road

Today you were a ✨gentleman✨

You guys were on your way to hang out with some friends that you hadn’t seen in a while

Being 3rd years truly drained you both

Ngl at first Kuroo was probably like ??????wtf

And there were probably a lot of times when he just ripped the big boy pants off of you unconsciously

“Babe be careful here hold on to my arm”

“O okay🥺🥺”

Cue 3 seconds later

“😳no no you’re holding on to my arm and being careful testu😤”

“Babe you can’t reach” listen those little handles on the train??? They’re way too far up

N e ways exceptions had to be made and you had to hold on to your big boi Kuroo 😔

But only for a while because a few stations later people had started to get off and there was more room to move

Your friends had gotten on the train by now and you guys were heading to ‼️the final destination ‼️

Y’allwereonyourwaytoaVRarcade

Your friends quickly caught on that you were acting like Kuroo and that’s when one of them came up with the brilliant idea

“You should do the whole kissing thing u know? The one where one leans back and you lean forward” (idk what it’s called this is my best attempt at explaining 😔)

You immediately agreed and got excited to show just how big the big boy pants were

Ofc Kuroo agreed bc wbk you’re /both/ crackheads

What you didn’t account for, was his weight in your boiled spaghetti arms 😔

The picture you see up there is one of “10 pictures taken before disaster”

The second after this picture you were both tumbling down to the cold hard ground on the train😔

Kuroos ass? Broke. Your knees? Broke. Your friends? Laughing so hard they broke.

Maybe the big boy pants were too big on you after all 😔

But we love dom daddy Kuroo so it’s okay 🥺💓

Tsukishima:

Remeber the insta post about Ushijima?? Where he’s bent all weird to hug you??

Yeah that won’t happen with our boy skinny penis Tsukishima

Which is why you had to find some way to reach his lips if you wanted a kiss

And that’s why we’re here 😔

You guys had been at the cinema with the other first years and we’re now walking around just chatting

You were holding Keis hand swinging it back and forth as you talked animatedly with Yachi.

One thing led to another and to be completely honest you weren’t sure how you ended up in this situation-

But now you were jumping trying to reach Keis face to give him a smooch

Yachi was laughing saying how she told you so

Tsukishima was smirking bc he’s a ******* ***** ** **** 😇

So you simply did what you had to do

Parkour’ing moving your way forward untill you found what you were looking for 😤

A bench 😃

So anyone else might’ve just walked over there calmly and stood on it but nO

You dragged that noodles lookin ass with you as you zoomED🏃🏻‍♂️🏃‍♀️🏃

And that’s the story of how it took you a good 20 minutes to get a boyfriend from your kiss a kiss from your boyfriend

Luckily Yachi took a picture and now you have a new lock screen 🥺✨

Kenma

Listen,, you aren’t an outdoorsy person

In fact you generally prefer to stay inside in your room with Kenma

But you and Kenma hadn’t gone on a date in so long 🥺

A gaming date would be fun but it wouldn’t be a date bc you always do that

Neither would a cooking date be one

Or a movie date

Basically at home there’s nothing to do that you guys don’t already regularly do

SO you wanted to go camping bc why not 😀

“Y/n there was a bug in the living room 1 week ago and you weren’t able to step a foot there until yesterday”

“But we’ll be in a tent”

“You’re allergic to pollen and grass”

“B bu-“

“Not to mention you wouldn’t survive without the ac bc you overhear”

“Alright alright I get it” 😔

So- there goes your hopes and dream

Or so you thought ✨

Kenma is the best boyfriend tbh.. he’s always thinking ahead and somehow always finds a way to do things you want to do but in a way that ensures both of you 100% enjoyment

So when you got home after a long day you were confused

Why is there a tent? In the living room?? Decorated with fairy lights????

“We’re going camping, without bugs and allergies.. and with WiFi and a comfortable sleeping place”

You didn’t know what to say, or what to do so you just kinda stood there 😲~shook~😲

“I also got snacks”

That’s all you needed to run into your shared room, get into kenmas comfortable clothes, bring some plushies and zoom back out to the living room.

Kenma just chuckled and patted the spot infront of the laptop but before you went and kissed the **** out of him you had one last important business.

Turn the aircon on high😤 bc you’ll be damned if you don’t end up getting cuddles bc you’re overheating 😤

And well that’s how you spent your weekend, in your little living room tent with your boyfriend. Cuddling, laughing, kissing and all that good stuff 🥺

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xunolic · 4 years ago

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oh okay okay. Can I request a woodz smut where he’s on a world tour or something and bc of the stress of the tour he had no time to jerk off hence hes sexually frustrated so his staff suggested for an escort service and they call your company or whatever and they chose you to go to him and then smut? thank you :)

paring: idol!seungyoun x blackgirl!reader

warnings: switch!youn, switch!reader, slight food play, oral (m. recieving), fingering

wc: 3.4k

✎ genre: smut, fluff

a/n: not proofread buuut happy new years eve guys!! stay safe :))

“have you seen seungyoun?”

“woodz you're on in five.”

“where did he go?”

seungyoun had locked himself in his dressing room bathroom, making sure to keep the light off so no one knew he was in there. he panted softly, palming the bulge in his bottoms, trying to find any sort of satisfaction. he groaned out of frustration, knowing he wasn't content. he was stuck on a tour bus and plane so often to where he had been left with blue balls for months. he was pulled from his thoughts from the sound of banging on the door.

“yeah?” he answered, pushing himself from the wall he was up against. he opened the door, looking at his manager square in the eye. his manager let out a held sigh, rubbing his temples in slight annoyance. “what's wrong?”

“oh, nothing. you were just supposed to be on in like…” he looked down at his wrist although no watch was there. “3 minutes ago.” seungyoun showed no interest, walking past his hyung. he grabbed water, walking towards the stagehand. his manager followed closely behind, knowing something was wrong. he tapped his shoulder, seungyoun ignoring him.

“seungyoun. what's up with you?” he asked, staring at the back of the man's head. seungyoun shook his head, walking up to the side of the stage, the music starting slowly. the concert felt like a drag for seungyoun, just the last few. he made sure to give his best, but his manager, for the past concerts, had been concerned. the ride to the hotel was awkward, his manager stealing glances at him every few seconds.

“hyung, if you have anything to say, say it,” youn kept his eyes on the buildings and people that passed by, his chin resting in his hand.

“you know you can tell me anything right?” he said, continuing to steal glances at the 24-year-old. seungyoun nodded as they reached a stoplight. he looked over to his hyung, who was already looking over at him.

“what’s up?” he asked, turning the music down in the car.

“you saw my phone, why don't you tell me.”

it was true. he had looked through the phone of the younger male’s and found what he was watching. he stiffened, looking back at the road, driving yet again. he had to find a way to get him out of the funk he was in.

it was 11 pm, and the older man was on the phone with a company that he believed could help seungyoun whilst on tour. “yeah. do you think she’ll want to travel? okay… that’s good… okay i'll be there in two days. see you then.”

the next day rolled around and seungyoun had to make his way to the next city. you on the other hand were struggling with the courses you decided to take in college. you sat in your bed, frowning at the screen, your friend on the phone.

“i'm just saying, university is such a damn hassle. i can't believe you dropped out and left this struggle for me.”

“sorry, i couldn't do it, babe. it was stressful, but how is that job you've been doing.”

“the amount of rich, divorced men that pay big bucks for having a nice pretty girl on their side, surprises me.”

“so, any good sex stories?” she asked, a curious tone hinted in her voice.

“i don’t fuck them. i’m not a prostitute, i just accompany them to like big dinners and stuff, but i did one time. it was the worst ever, it’s like he hadn’t had sex in years, and after he cummed, i left. i had to do the heavy lifting myself when i got home.”

“damn… oh shit. i got caught, gotta go back to work. bye, baby.”

“bye,” you hung up the phone, heaving a sigh, closing your laptop. you took a break from the work, your phone ringing again. you answer putting the phone up to your ear, walking into the kitchen. “pack right now! oh my goodness y/n, this is big.”

“um… cora, please slow down. why am i packing?”

“oh, i forgot i didn’t tell you. okay, so i just got a call from some korean man about how he is a manager to some company and he needs you for a tour. people get very lonely on things like that.”

you sat in the bed, eyes training on the sheets. “this better not be another fucking underground rapper. the last time i did that, he wouldn’t let me leave.” a shudder leaves your body as you recall the memory engraved in your head. that night sent you home with tears. he was a good looking guy, but his intentions were the worst, making you fear going anywhere near people like that man again.

“y/n, i am not letting anyone like that near you again. plus, this must be a big artist for offering 1,000 a city.”

you choked on your spit at the amount that left your boss’s lips, thinking how to respond. “they leave from here today. i know this isn’t enough, but you have this time to decide okay. text me if you have your answer anytime soon.”

you nod knowing she couldn’t see you, mumbling an okay before hanging up your phone. your body reacted before your mind did as you stood up walking to your closet. you took down suitcases, not knowing how much you’d need. you took two, hoping it would be enough. picking out several outfits, your mind suddenly came to. you stared at the belts and jeans in your hands, thinking if you were gonna do this.

you pack up the bags, sitting them at the door, picking your phone up. you texted cora telling her you’d do it and she responded quickly telling you to meet up with them tomorrow. you tried clearing your mind, sitting your phone and laptop on your desk. your head started hurting before you laid down to sleep, mind fogged over with thoughts.

seungyoun’s manager woke him up early, like 2 am early, making him rush to the car; they were fifteen minutes late. seungyoun wasn’t sure of what was happening but got into the car nonetheless. he stared out the window as they finally pulled up to the relatively small building. getting out, they were greeted by the translator who worked at the building, with a smile on her face. as they were walking into the building, seungyoun looked around trying to get a grasp on the situation. they walked into a room that looked like the normal company meeting room. you looked up catching the view of a young-looking guy. your eyes lingered on each other before both he and the manager sat down.

you couldn’t stop looking for the whole meeting. he was really good looking, and it seemed he was in the same situation as you. his eyes never left yours for the fifteen minutes you were in there. cora, looked over at you to confirm your decision but traveled where your eyes led. she let out a chuckle, shoving you softly with her shoulder.

“i said, do you want to leave with them today or do you want them to fly you out in like two days?”

“i-i can go today…” you mumbled, seungyoun smiling but then looking at his manager with wide eyes.

“oh.. yeah. she’s coming with us,” he said, placing his hand on his shoulder. he looked over to you but you were already standing to get the things that you had already stuffed in your car.

the two men went to the car leaving one side open for you. you let out a small gulp, saying bye to cora before leaving for what you thought would be a simple trip.

boy was you wrong about the simple travels. you had been gone for three months, gone to almost ten+ cities, and there was finally one city left on the tour. you realized from the first show it wasn't just some underground rapper you were working with. you were shocked (maybe turned on, you didn't know) by how charismatic seungyoun was on stage. you had grown closer and attracted to seungyoun over these months and to your dismay, he hasn't tried anything with you. both of you had noticed the tension from day one, but he kept his distance when it came to anything sexual. you could tell he was frustrated, but you never brought it up. since it was the last day, you felt you should congratulate him for the hard work he did in the past months.

it was time for the encore stage, so you tried sneaking out before seungyoun saw you.

“y/n?”

“oh no,” you mumbled, turning towards the voice. seungyoun was there, sweat wetting his neck and the white tank top he was wearing. your eyes trained on his sweat glistened skin, eyes trailing on his tattoo-covered arms and the shirt almost glued to his torso. “i-i was just um.. g-going back to the uh.. hotel to surprise you with something f-for the end of the tour.”

he had his lips tugged in a smirk before nodding, “ahh. okay. well.. i'll see you back at the hotel.” you smile softly, walking to leave in the back. “the surprise better be good.” you heard him say before you felt the warm air of the night hit your skin. you walked to the van, making sure to get the extra key to seungyoun’s room before leaving. immediately after the car stopped, you ran into the hotel, getting everything ready for him.

it took about an hour for him to get back and you were laid upon his bed, a cake right beside you. you received a text from his manager telling you they made it and you rushed to turn off the lights and light the candle on the cake. you sat at the foot of the bed, biting your lip from nervousness just as you heard the door click and seungyoun turning on his light.

“fuck..” he murmured. there you sat, the lingerie fitting you in the best possible of ways.

“surprise,” you said, voice shaken from any nervousness you had before. he closed the door, focusing on you. you stared up at him, standing and walking up to him with the cake in hand. “blow out the candle.”

he tried prying his eyes from yours, but it felt like he couldn't. he blew out the candle but kept his eyes on you. you bit your lip, nodding to the bed, “go sit.”

he took his shoes off and moved to the bed, sitting on the edge of it. you sat the cake down on the bedside table, straddling his lap. he promptly placed his hands on your waist, looking down at your lips. “you were struggling this whole time and didn't tell me. why?”

“i didn't want to bother you or you know… push myself on you like a horny dog.”

you let out a small giggle, rutting against his growing bulge. his grip tightened on your waist, pushing your already soaked core on his jeans. your face fell in the crook of his neck, sighing softly. “you aren't supposed to be pleasuring me.”

he laughed, not loosening his grip on your waist. “what? i finally get to fuck you aren’t gonna let me?”

“i had plans. now let me do them.”

he let go of your waist and sat back on his hands, “go ahead.”

you grinned, shimmying your way off of his lap, grabbing at his thighs. you placed a soft kiss on the tent that was still growing within his tight jeans. he let out a soft whimper by the apparent tension against the fabric.

“you want these off, i bet,” you said, kissing again at his strained cock.

he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, looking at you nodding swiftly. you began handling his button and zipper, tugging it midway before trapping the metal between your teeth. you kept eye contact with him, dragging it down the rest of the way. you pulled his pants down his waist, massaging his thighs, laughing lightly as he tried to find any sort of friction, thrusting into the air. your hand reached up to stroke him through the thin fabric of his boxers, a groan leaving his lips.

“you’re so fucking sensitive,” you giggled. your hand worked on his clothed member, watching as he sucked his lips in, trying to contain the bawdy sounds that were longing to come out. your fingers latching onto his waistband, pulling the material down, his dick finally being freed from its barrier.

you stared at his dick, the precum leaking from his tip. you felt yourself grow wetter and wetter, rubbing the wet substance from his slit on your thumb. you brought your thumb to your tongue, licking it, feeling the saltiness spread on your taste buds. he wanted nothing but for you to wrap your lips around him, but you kept teasing. your hands worked on his shaft, watching more cum leak out, making your mouth water. you couldn't stop yourself as you dragged your tongue from the bottom to the top of his cock, he shuddered under you, a soft groan leaving his lips.

you wrapped your lips around his bell-rounded tip, swirling your tongue. his hand went to grab at your hair, tugging at the roots. you let out a soft whine, deepthroating before pulling back, seeing the trail of saliva coming from your lips. you guided him back into your mouth, slowly bobbing your head. your hand twisted around him, your mouth working magic. he grabbed at his shirt, stripping it away from his body. your hands gripped his thighs, moving the head of his cock to the back of your throat. you hollowed out your cheeks as much as you could, sending the utmost pleasure into seungyoun.

“you’re so f-fucking good,” his breathing began to pick up, his hips meeting your mouth. he twitched in your mouth and you pulled away just for your mouth to be laced on his tip. you pulled away with a pop, staring up at him.

“look at me younie,” he looked down at you with hooded eyes, one of your hands traveled to his abs, tracing them with a finger. your other hand continued to fondle along his shaft, his cum coating your tongue, your cheeks, and chin. your hand didn't stop until you knew he was finished, smiling at his fucked-out look. you wiped the remaining cum, putting it in your mouth, swallowing. you crawl on his lap as he brought his hand to your face, bringing it to his. he finally brought his lips to yours for the first time. you let out a satisfied sigh as he laid you down on the bed, your head resting on the plush pillow. he moved his hand to your back, unclasping your bra, groping your breasts gently. his lips connected to the soft mound, one of your nipples between his teeth. he sucked on the bud, moving to the other to give it the same attention. his hands caressed your sides, marking your breasts with hickies.

he pulled your panties down, rubbing your clit with two of his fingers. you let out a soft moan, an airy chuckle coming from his lips. “who’s the sensitive one?” you laughed softly, getting cut off by his fingers slipping into your sex with ease. he pumped his digits slowly, the wet sounds coming from your slick, his eyes glued to your body and the way it reacted to just his fingers. his other hand grabbed your face, kissing your lips again, lying beside you to watch his fingers disappear in you. you pulled away, looking down your body, his wet fingers spreading your labia. your moans poured out as his finger thumbed at your clit, rubbing small circles. he pushed two fingers back in your clenching hole.

you grabbed his arm, your head lazing to the side, to bury in seungyuon’s neck. your hips started to match the movements of his fingers, imprinting crescents into his arm. your whimpers were of desperation, his fingers speeding their pace. “shit. please d-don’t stop.”

he smiled softly, curving his fingers. you let out a shaky moan, biting your lip, continuing to stare down at his fingers. his palm connected to your clit, fingers curving and driving into you.

“fuck, right there.”

“mm. you're taking my fingers so well baby.”

you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. you spread your legs wider, grabbing his bicep. he continued his movements, until your hips bucked up into his hand, cumming around the two fingers that were knuckle deep inside you. seungyoun moved his hand under your chin to tilt your head up. you fluttered your eyelids, eyes glossed over, parting your lips. he leaned down, lips once again connecting with yours. he slipped his tongue in, moving his body to hover over yours.

pulling away, you stared into his eyes. “t-there’s condoms in the drawer.” you pointed at the bedside table, resting on your elbows.

“since when?” he chuckled, sliding open the drawer, taking the foil packet out of it.

“since i put them there.”

he stroked himself before he tore the package open, slipping it on, shifting in front of you. “ready?”

“more than.”

it took no time for his cock to stretch your walls. you gripped your thighs, letting out a slight groan, closing your eyes. he gave you time to get used to him before thrusting his hips. he started slow, leaning down peck your lips softly. he looked over at the cake, an idea popping into his mind instantly as he eyed the frosting. he leaned over, gathering some of the frosting on his fingers, tapping your lips slightly. your eyes opened, licking your lips of the sweet cream, opening your mouth, accepting his fingers in. he groaned at the sight of his fingers in your mouth as you sucked and licked them. you looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, grabbing your breasts, his thrusts becoming deeper.

“you're so gorgeous,” he grunted out. he gripped your waist, hitting various angles in you, leaving you a moaning mess. his fingers were still in your mouth as he tried to pull them out. you let go, your dribble trailing from his fingers. he leaned over collecting more of the cream, licking his fingers, but not swallowing it. he leaned down connecting your lips, the frosting spreading in your mouth as well. his tongue played in your mouth, the substance becoming mixed with the saliva in your mouths. his thumb met with your clit, letting out a growl in your mouth as you clenched one time around his groin. you let out a moan, grabbing the sheets, his pace picking up.

“oh my gosh, seungyoun. harder, p-please.”

he took notice of your plea, proceeding to bruise your core. seungyoun sopped up the view of your body under him, crying out his name in an attempt to take in the pleasure he was giving. your back arched off the bed, grabbing the pillow. his dick curved perfectly, hitting the spot you needed to feel that coil start to twist in your abdomen.

“i-i’m close.”

“so am i. just hold on for me,” he said, holding the side of your face. his hand moved from your face to your breasts, gripping the flesh as his thrust became sloppier. “we’re gonna cum together okay?” you nodded, trying to keep your eyes focused on him. he connected to your clit again, and that's all it took. you were sent off the edge, breath rigid and sweat moistening your body. seungyoun threw his head back, groaning loudly, twitching inside of you before releasing his cum in the condom. sweat fell from his brow, as he calmed down his body. he slowly pulled out, you whining from the lack of him in you. he pulled his condom off, tying it and tossing it. he laid beside you rubbing your hip softly, kissing your forehead.

“thank you,” he said softly. you looked up at him, a smile on your face.

“so was the surprise good or what?”

he laughed, “it was great, but now make me a promise.”

you looked at him, waiting for his proclamation.

“keep in contact with me, even after i leave for korea.”

you grinned, leaning up to his lips. “of course i will. maybe i could visit and we could go on a proper date.”

he nodded, sporting the same smile as you. he kissed you softly yet passionately, pulling away before wiping the sweat from your forehead. “round two in the shower?”

“i'll race you,” you got up, taking off to the shower, seungyoun racing behind you.

#woodz #woodz scenario #woodz smut #cho seungyoun #cho seungyoun smut #cho seungyoun scenario #woodz ambw #cho seungyoun ambw #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop ambw #ambw smut #ambw

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satendou · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ distance

⍣ 365 days of sun series | next | 1/2

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime/reader/oikawa tooru

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: prequel to 365 days; oikawa goes to argentina, leaving you and iwaizumi behind

⇥ masterlist

⇢ warnings: pre-relationship, cursing, fluff, mild angst

⇢ word count: 6757

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: a few things. 1) i did not particularly care for how correct the timeline is or how correct the actual offer, signing, etc happens. 2) the cut is a little weird bc i when i wrote this, i wrote as one fic but it turned out to be 18k words so...no. 3) i love this whole fic sm so i hope you guys do too!

“I’ve had an offer.”

Oikawa’s voice cut through the sound of your and Iwaizumi’s playful arguing and the sound of video game music that filled the room.

“That’s great news, Tooru!” you exclaimed, looking up at him leaned against the door. Your smile fell when you met his eyes, a pained mix of happy and uncertain. It was such a rare look that you couldn’t place any moment in recent memory that you had seen it.

“What?” you asked, setting the controller on the table. The sound playing from the TV cut out without warning, and Iwaizumi shifted on the couch beside you, leaning close enough that you could feel his warmth through your sweater. It was mid-winter in Tokyo and you had stayed home after classes were cancelled, choosing to hang out together rather than frolic in the snow. “Tooru?”

He bit his lip as he considered the news he had just been delivered. It was an actual dream come true, exactly what he had wanted all this time. But then why did it feel like someone had just punched him in the stomach? “The offer is for um, a team down in--” He sighed. “--in Argentina. It’s one of the top teams in the world, and they want me to be first string.”

“Oh.”

You said it at the same time as Iwaizumi, both staring at Oikawa’s pained expression.

“Then you need to take it,” Iwaizumi continued, his sharp words cutting through the tense air like a knife. He knew what Oikawa was thinking, what he was worried about, and couldn’t let him think no one would support him. He’d be lost without his best friend, but this was Oikawa’s chance at his dream. “And Argentina is far enough away that we won’t have to deal with you anymore. We deserve a break from your drama.”

You smacked him on the arm for that, but Oikawa chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I know you’ll actually really miss me, you adorable tsun. I’ll come back to visit, so don’t give away my room,” he said, and you were relieved to see his expression lighten. He kicked off from the door and plopped down on the couch beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “And I know our dear _____ is going to be so lonely without me.”

You mimed throwing up into Iwaizumi’s lap. “Like hell. It’ll be so peaceful without you here. _____, my girlfriend broke up with me for the third time. Iwa-chan, why hasn’t she texted me back it’s been two minutes.”

“_____, can you bring me an ice pack? My dumbass overdid it again and my knee hurts,” Iwaizumi mocked, and Oikawa yelped in indignation.

“I do not sound like that or say those things,” he said, pulling his arm from your shoulders to cross them over his chest. There was a warm glow in his heart as the three of you bantered, stemming from the undying support the two of you had always given him in the pursuit of his dreams-- even if you were really mean to him while doing it. “Thank you, guys.”

You stopped laughing at him, both you and Iwaizumi turning to stare at him before you smiled. “You sap. Of course we’re going to support you no matter what! We’re gonna miss you, though. Like, bad,” you answered, and your throat tightened a little at the thought of him being halfway around the world. The three of you had been inseparable for years, even ending up attending the same college in Tokyo, though that had been because it had the best courses for the majors you and Iwaizumi wanted and Oikawa loved their volleyball team. It was a no brainer to get an apartment together when you found out you’d all been accepted either.

“Speak for yourself, _____. I’ll be glad when he’s gone. And don’t expect us to run all over the world chasing you, either,” Iwa said, picking up the controller off the table again and unmuting the TV. As soon as he unpaused the game, his character died. “Goddammit.”

“You really deserve this, Tooru. More than anyone,” you said, bumping against his shoulder.

Oikawa looked down at your face, eyes lit up with happiness as you smiled. He hid his face in the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your shampoo with a grin, warmth bubbling in his chest all over again. He was finally going to live his dream and he had the two people he loved most in the world at his back. He couldn’t imagine anything better than that.

So many words danced on his tongue, his thoughts a jumbled mess and he opened his mouth to let them spill out.

“Yeah, I guess I do, don’t I?” You groaned as Iwaizumi reached around you to smack the back of his head, and he snickered into your hair, his arms squeezing you into his side. “I love you guys.”

Picking up the controller, you let him cling to you like the monkey he was as you rejoined the game. “Yeah, sure, Shittykawa. We love you too.”

There was a lot of planning after he accepted the offer, outside of what the agency would take care of. He just had to find an apartment within his budget and they would take care of securing it for him before he arrived, and travel was taken care of.

Naturally, what was his responsibility became yours.

“Don’t you own anything besides basketball shorts and sweatpants?” you asked, holding up what had to be the sixtieth pair of shorts in the last thirty minutes. You were helping him pick out what clothes he was going to be taking to San Juan with him, leaving the rest in his room in Tokyo for when he visited. They all smelled like him, the light and breezy cologne he wore that seemed to stick to everything, including you.

You were struck by the realization that when he left, that smell would fade from everything, including you. And the idea that you would never be teased for smelling like Oikawa again caused your heart to clench.

Your face must have twisted because Oikawa’s happy babbling cut off.

“_____? What is it?” Setting the longsleeve t-shirt he held in his hands aside, he turned to fully face you while you turned fully away from him. He gripped your shoulders, trying to force you to turn to look at him, which you resisted at first. When he heard the light sniffling though, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Fast as lightning, you turned and threw your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. Without hesitation, he hauled you closer, rubbing your back as you cried into his neck. Between sobs you managed to choke out, “I’m gonna miss your stupid face so much. And what am I gonna do when the apartment stops smelling like your cheapass cologne? Am I gonna have to wear it?”

Your fingers twisted in the soft white t-shirt he wore. You hadn’t meant to cry, really you hadn’t, because you knew things like this would only make it harder for him to leave. And as much as you did want him to stay here with you, you also knew he would never be happy unless he was in the spotlight playing volleyball. But your tears soaked his shirt anyway as you tried to stifle your sniffling.

He burst into laughter at your childish whining, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

“Awe, I already knew that, princess. Everyone’s going to miss me,” he said, putting on that smug air that came so naturally. He was just trying to cheer you up though, and you could see through him like a window, laughing into his shoulder.

One hand curled into your hair, holding you close as he took in your warmth and your sadness. It was a mirror to his own, tempered by a cautious enthusiasm that his future-- and his dreams-- were about to take off. He was being selfish throughout all of this-- selfishly keeping you close while selfishly leaving you at the same time.

That warmth he always felt whenever you were close welled up again, and he smiled.

“I’ll miss you too, you know,” he whispered into your hair, and felt your arms slide back up around his neck, squeezing so tight he thought his breathing would stop. “You and Iwa, more than anyone.”

“Well, you’ll come back,” you whispered back, resting your cheek on his shoulder, facing away from his neck. “You’re like a parasite. We’ll never be rid of you.”

Oikawa’s shoulders shook underneath your head and you smiled.

“Help me pick apartments,” Oikawa demanded, folding himself into the empty seat beside Iwaizumi. He had his laptop in hand, a dozen or so tabs open to different apartments near the stadium his new team called home. He would be leaving in a few days to check them and the stadium out, and likely to sign the contract while he was down there. Truth be told, he was nervous.

“Don’t you have any manners, you damn brat?” Iwaizumi asked, even as he set his phone to the side. He’d been surfing through DoorDash, looking for something to get for dinner. You would be home from classes soon and no doubt starving. “I’m ordering dinner.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. _____ said she was going to stop and pick up something for us. I requested takoyaki, but she said she wasn’t feeling it,” Oikawa answered with a pout.

“Probably,” Iwaizumi said as Oikawa flipped to the first tab and he turned the screen to show him, “because she’s been doing labs with crustaceans in biology all week.”

It was a 3 bedroom, 2 bath with an open floor plan and a lot of windows. Newly refurbished and expensive. Not that Oikawa wouldn’t be able to afford it.

Iwaizumi shrugged. It wasn’t terrible, and definitely Oikawa’s style. He liked lots of natural light for his Instagram photos, and that apartment definitely provided.

“I should’ve waited for _____,” he grumbled, but flipped to the next one anyway.

Another 3 bedroom, 2 bath, smaller than the last and darker, in both light and color scheme, but no less expensive. Instantly Iwaizumi grunted and shook his head, and there was a small gratification as Oikawa instantly X’d out of the tab, letting it get lost in the void.

If there was one thing Oikawa valued above a volleyball player’s skills, it was your and Iwaizumi’s opinions. You knew him just as well as he knew himself, and better, in some ways. If Iwaizumi thought that apartment wasn’t good enough, then it wasn’t good enough.

The next few went much the same way. 3 bedroom, 2 bath, too dark or too small, too old-school or too extravagant. Each and every time Iwaizumi said no, Oikawa was secretly relieved to click the X button. A lot of the apartments he’d found weren’t to his taste, but he also knew his tastes were dramatic, hence the need for Iwaizumi’s down-to-earth opinions.

“Hey, I have a question,” Iwaizumi said when apartment number nine was bookmarked. It was a close contender with number one, the only other one he had agreed with. He knew Oikawa would never be happy living in a closed in, dark space. He was a lot like a plant.

A really mouthy, annoying plant. Like that tentacuwhatever from Harry Potter. Clingy and needed attention nonstop or else he’d cause trouble. What was he saying?

Oh right.

Oikawa paused his scrolling to look up at Iwaizumi, who had settled back into the couch, his arm slung across the back just above Oikawa’s shoulders. With his leg pressed to his, Oikawa was practically tucked into his side as they fought to both see the laptop screen.

“What’s that, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi leaned back in, his cheek right next to Oikawa’s. “Why are all these apartments three bedroom?”

In response, Oikawa spluttered. “Well, I mean, you know, it’s for if-- if friends want to come stay for a while or-- or you know. Geez, Iwa-chan, I do have those you know. And I’ll make more in Argentina. Might even replace you, if you aren’t careful.”

Iwaizumi’s arm curled tight around Oikawa’s neck then, his voice dangerously low as he growled, “No one will ever put up with you like I do, so good luck.”

Smirking, he pulled away and settled back down into the couch, picking his phone up again to see a text from you, asking if soba was alright for dinner. Typing his response, he said to Oikawa, “Soba is for dinner. And you may as well close out of the other tabs. I think the first one is the best one. Think we could come with you and pick out our rooms for ourselves?”

Oikawa choked.

The day of his permanent departure finally arrived.

To all three of you, it felt too quick and sudden, like you had blinked and the time had disappeared while your eyes were closed. All that morning, the three of you skirted around the topic as you dealt with the last minute details.

“Hey, you want this shirt right? You better--”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Oi, Shit-- Tooru, you’re forgetting these, dumbass, and I’m not mailing ‘em to you.”

As the time whittled down to nothing, you found yourselves standing in the living room, staring at each other. You had sworn up and down that you wouldn’t get sappy or cry or do anything to make it any harder on Oikawa than it already clearly was. But the tension in the air, the strange, manic sparkle in his eyes as he stared the two of you down broke whatever resolve you had and you threw yourself at him, tears welling in your eyes.

His fingers, previously wrapped around the handle of his suitcase, found their way into your hair, his other arm winding around you as the suitcase hit the floor with a clattering of plastic, squeezing you tight enough to force the air from your lungs. And yet it wasn’t close enough, one arm around his shoulders and the other around his back, pressing yourself even closer, until there wasn’t an ounce of space between you.

Against your will, the tears spilled over and wetted his shirt, but he paid it no mind, too lost in breathing in the smell of your shampoo and the feel of your warmth for close to the last time.

Behind you, Iwaizumi sighed, turning his eyes up to the ceiling, thankful that Oikawa’s eyes were closed so he couldn’t see the glittering in his own. Much as he might like to give his friend hell, he was going to miss him. A lot. More than he liked to admit.

Another set of arms came around you, completing the missing piece as you stood there and cried into Oikawa’s chest. You could feel tears in your hair and it only made you squeeze him tighter. The urge, the need to ask him to stay, just for another day, welled up so strong you had to bite your tongue to keep the words in. Truth be told, you weren’t sure if he would say no, but no way were you going to put him in that position.

“We’re gonna be late, Oikawa,” you whispered into his shirt and felt him nod against your head, but no one made a move to pull away.

It took all your willpower-- and a few elbows in a few ribs-- to pull away from them. Oikawa’s lips parted, his hands still reaching out for you, and you took one while Iwaizumi picked up his forgotten suitcase.

“Oi, Lazykawa,” he barked, “I’ll get this, you get your carry-on. _____, make sure he doesn’t get lost.”

At that, Oikawa gasped in mock outrage, placing his free hand over his heart and affecting a hurt tone. “How could you think so low of me, Iwa-chan? Do you think I’m so stupid?”

From the hallway, a very deadpan, “Yes,” rang out and you snorted in laughter.

“Really, Tooru, how could you not see that coming?” you asked while he picked up his bag. His fingers stayed laced with yours while you locked the door behind you. Doing it one handed was difficult and took longer than if you’d had your other hand, but neither of you were inclined to let go.

Iwaizumi was waiting impatiently outside the taxi, his foot tapping arrhythmically against the snowy pavement. His fingers were freezing and his eyes narrowed as he watched the two of you walk down the stairs hand in hand, both wearing sad smiles as you looked back at him.

“If you two take any longer he’s gonna miss his flight,” he snapped, holding the door open for both of you. His mood settled when you patted his cheek before sliding in beside Oikawa. It was a bit cramped with two 6’ tall athletes wedged into the tight space, but frankly there weren’t a lot of other places you’d rather be.

Now if only you weren’t stuck between them on your way to the airport to see one of them off to the other side of the freakin’ world.

The ride, in typical fashion when doing something you don’t want to do, took both too long and not enough time. You filled it with jokes and memories as each held one of your hands, mostly about what you thought San Juan would be like and of games he and Iwaizumi had played in while you cheered your heart out in the stands.

Their number one fanatic, they affectionately called you. A lot of your highschool career was spent with them just because there was so much jealousy among the other students that you were so close to them. You were grateful to them for so much you couldn’t even begin to list them all, but you could at least say number one on the list was loving you the way they did.

Oikawa was met at the airport by some diehard fans and his family, all teary eyed and clamoring for his attention, and you looked at Iwaizumi. He shared a resigned, grateful expression with you, glad you had said your goodbyes in the privacy of your apartment. There was no way you were going to get it here, surrounded the way he was.

While you stood on the outskirts, watching Oikawa smile and simper for everyone while making his way further inside, he looked back and his smile changed. From polite and sweet, it morphed into something genuine and deep, and even from a distance you could see the glitter in his eyes.

He laughed and said something, and the tone of the crowd changed, dispersing slowly until it was only his family left. Something was said to his mother, who was clinging to his hand with tears streaming down her cheeks, then he was making his way towards the two of you.

“I’ve only got a few minutes before I have to check in so I…” he said, but trailed off, scratching the back of his head. The words were stuck in his throat, too hard to say to the two of you. He could put on a show for the crowd all day, playing the part but as soon as he was placed in front of you, it was like someone had corked him. “I’m really gonna miss you guys. Who’s gonna cheer me on at games now?”

A sigh rode on the tail of the laugh that escaped you while Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, looking very much like he was going to kick Oikawa into the luggage carousel.

“Oh, I don’t know, you dumbass. Maybe the thousands of adoring fans you’re going to gain with your face plastered all over national television?” he asked, his fingers flexing with the restrained urge. It was muscle memory at this point, he couldn’t be blamed.

Oikawa’s face fell, though Iwaizumi’s voice held no bite and Oikawa wasn’t really upset. Setting his hand on his hip, he pointed at Iwaizumi. “It won’t be the same and you know it. You better watch every game. I’ll know if you haven’t.”

Iwaizumi scoffed and rolled his eyes. “How are you gonna know, idiot?”

Oikawa’s arm snaked around your shoulder, still pointing to Iwaizumi as he tugged you into his side. The smile he wore was somehow both fake and so genuine it almost hurt to look at. “Well, our little _____ will tell me if you haven’t, won’t you?”

Before you could answer, the loudspeaker sounded, announcing his flight was ready for check-in, and all the humor left you in a breath.

“Tooru,” his mother called, beckoning towards him with her hands.

“Just a minute, mom,” he called over his shoulder, and his typically playful eyes were soft as he stared down at you. One hand took yours while the other met your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that had managed to escape without your notice. “I’ll call you when I land. And text you every day. And you better not let anyone take my room, I’ll need somewhere to sleep when I come back to visit. Lord knows I won’t be able to stay with them while I’m here.”

“Tooru,” his mother called again, sounding desperate now. You couldn’t blame her, Oikawa had spent an altogether longer time saying goodbye to you than he had with them since he’d arrived. Besides, the place his family held in line for him was moving forward rapidly-- as rapidly as the time you had left with him was shortening.

“You better not forget us, Tooru, or we’ll come down to Argentina and kick your ass,” you said, all three of you stumbling towards the line. He ducked under the rope, still holding your hand in a death grip, still unwilling to let go. “Or Haji will. I’ll keep a lookout so we don’t get arrested.”

At that, all three of you burst into laughter, the action causing the dam to break and then you were all crying too. In a split second decision Oikawa couldn’t explain, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, letting it linger there as he said, “I could never forget you. Either of you. My best friends and the people I love the most.”

“Love you too, Tooru. Give ‘em hell,” you whispered into his chest before pulling away.

“Go, before your family has a shit fit,” Iwaizumi said, pushing at his shoulder. But Oikawa’s hand covered his for a fraction of a second and squeezed with strength that only came with practicing serves for hours on end. Some unnamed emotion flitted in his eyes, but Iwaizumi nodded in understanding. “Come see us soon, alright?”

Oikawa’s throat tightened until all he could do was nod. With one last look at you, he turned and walked towards the front of the line, becoming obscured by the throngs of people.

An arm came around Iwaizumi’s waist and he instinctively curled his around your shoulders. He could feel the tears wetting his shoulder, where your face was pressed into his shirt. His own throat was sore as he held his tears back and he rubbed your arm as he fought to catch just one last glimpse of the last third of his trio.

But he was gone, off to the other side of the world and away from you. Some cynical part of Iwaizumi said he was gone forever, that in typical Oikawa fashion he would get down there and completely forget about the two of you. That wasn’t what the more rational side said, though. That side said he was being completely unfair to his friend, and he was inclined to agree with it more.

Leading you back out to the entrance, he hailed a taxi and helped you in, where you wrapped yourself around him again, causing him to laugh.

“It isn’t forever, you know,” he said, petting your hair. Of course, he would never tell you what he had been thinking just a few minutes ago. It wouldn’t help, even if it did turn out to be true. “We’ll see him again, probably a lot sooner than we’d like.”

As if to prove his point, both of your phones pinged with a new notification.

When you swiped them open, you found a message in the group chat that was so typical of Oikawa that Iwaizumi snorted before you both burst into laughter.

‘First class sucks without anyone to share it with. And the wine is bleh. I miss u guys :(‘

Each of you answered, Iwaizumi with a typical ‘you’re an idiot’ and you with an ‘i miss u too bby :’(‘.

You received one last text, telling you he had to shut his phone off and then you settled your head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder to stare out the window. The scenery passed by in a blur while you focused on Iwaizumi’s rough thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand.

After a few minutes, you hummed thoughtfully. “What should we get for dinner?”

“How does takoyaki sound?”

It was several months after Oikawa had left and both you and Iwaizumi were coming up on a small break from school. Since he’d left, Oikawa’s texts and calls had been spotty at best, though he made the effort to send a goodnight text into the group chat every night. When he’d first realized that he was failing in his promise, he’d apologized while telling you he would try harder.

Iwaizumi had shut that down real quick and you could imagine him tapping on his phone furiously during study period, wearing a scowl that would have had Oikawa cowering in the corner if he’d seen it.

‘Shut up, idiot. You’re training, right? Then train. We’re adults. We understand, right, _____?’

In your biology class, you had snuck a quick response. Even as adults, your teacher was a real bastard about using phones in class, and being caught could end in a pop quiz.

‘Yeah, you brat. Stop stretching yourself so thin or they’ll kick you out and you’ll have to come back to Japan and start all over,’ you typed, having to erase the word ‘home’ in favor of something less...that. Sometimes the way Oikawa talked, when your schedules lined up and you could talk on the phone properly, he sounded like all you’d have to do was ask and he’d be on the first plane out of San Juan. Even he still slipped up and called it home, often correcting himself afterwards as if to convince himself.

After that, he stopped apologizing, but he also stopped responding nearly as much. That didn’t stop you from using the group chat. You could see where Oikawa had read and reacted to certain messages and knew that even if he was busy, he was still there. And that in itself made the separation easier.

Two weeks before that break started, you received a long text in the group chat, both of your phones going off on the table. Only Iwaizumi picked his up, already knowing who it was from-- the chat had a special tone, so you knew whether to pick it up immediately or not.

‘Hey guys, I know this is sudden and a little short notice, but you have that break coming up, don’t you? I’m going to have my first game down here during that time so I was wondering if you’d want to come down and visit? Ik it’s only been a few months but you know how much i miss your stupid faces, and san juan is so pretty this time of year. I can pay for the tickets down here (obviously) and your rooms already have beds so you can stay with me! Isn’t that great? I have to go, but let me know!’

Iwaizumi stared at the text, a vein ticking in his forehead, while you read over his shoulder. It was clear Oikawa was excited at the prospect, but planning a trip like that in only two weeks was going to be hell.

“Does he even realize how full of himself he sounds?” Iwaizumi snapped, crossing his arms over his chest after you took his phone. “‘I can pay for the tickets’-- my ass. I’m gonna beat him senseless when we see him.”

“So…” you said, already typing away on his phone, “does that mean I should tell him to buy two tickets, since he’s so kindly offered?”

He caught sight of your smirk and followed it up with one of his own, belatedly realizing what he’d just said. “Well, since he can obviously afford it, may as well let him.”

You sent the text out without making any changes and Iwaizumi didn’t know if he should kiss you or smack you.

Oikawa was a lot more active in chat over the next couple of weeks, talking nonstop about how excited he was to see you. Iwaizumi was taking the blow up with more grace than you had ever imagined, and then you realized why.

“Haji, aren’t you excited to see Tooru? And I never thought I’d actually go to Argentina. I’m kinda nervous,” you teased one night over takeout and beers. A movie Iwaizumi had picked up while he bought snacks at the store played in the background, though it was so bad neither of you were really paying attention.

He looked up from his phone, where he was no doubt texting Oikawa, looking thoughtful. You expected a huff or a denial, but he surprised you-- a lot, actually.

“Yeah, I’m really excited. It’s been...too quiet without that brat around,” he said, and frowned. “I miss him.”

You set your fork in the takeout box, staring blankly at the TV while you processed that admission. Iwaizumi wasn’t much for talking about his feelings. He was very action oriented, as you and Oikawa knew too well, so to hear him say it meant something.

“I really miss him too, you know,” you murmured, playing with your fingers. It wasn’t something that bothered you too often, but Iwaizumi’s confession had brought it to the forefront of your thoughts and you allowed yourself to wallow just a little. “I can’t wait to see him.”

“I can’t either. I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I love you both,” he said, his ears heating up at the admission. It was only easy to say in the dark, when he could focus on his phone instead of the embarrassment the words brought. It wasn’t something he said very often, no matter how much he thought it.

You giggled, flicking a fry you had been about to eat at him. “You’re such a sap. Tooru really is rubbing off on you, Haji.”

Throwing it back at you, he playfully snapped, “Don’t compare me to Shittykawa, _____. I’m nothing like him.”

“You’re right. You’re much smarter than he is,” you replied, chucking the fry back into the top part of your takeout box.

It felt so good to just relax and hang out with Iwaizumi. Your schedules had both been so packed with classes and work, and even when one was free the other rarely was, that you hadn’t had a spare moment with him in weeks. It was the first night that you had free since Oikawa first invited you down and, though you had been flooded with requests to go out to bars or clubs, you just wanted to stay in. Expecting to be alone that night too, you were pleasantly surprised when Iwa had shown up with two takeout boxes and a six pack of beer. It felt like all the tension you had been carrying over the last few weeks had dissipated and that things were normal.

Shitty movies, shitty beer, and Iwa. All you really needed was Oikawa, and you would have him in a few days.

Your heart fluttered in your stomach, your chest tightening at the thought of seeing him again. It felt like years had passed since he left, between your hectic schedules and sporadic texts. More than once you had come home exhausted and wanting to just go to bed, maybe cry a little from the stress, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of something missing. The little negative voice in the back of your head would nag as you laid awake, staring at your ceiling, hoping your phone would light up or Iwa would walk through the door and fill the silence of the apartment.

It was nights like that that made you wonder if everything you were doing was worth it, if you were somehow losing Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and the doubt hurt more than anything else. It was a constant tug-of-war with yourself; you knew that eventually you would have to let them go, but only when you were good and ready, and ready you most certainly were not.

There was hope that this trip would help ease some of your doubt and fears, that seeing Oikawa in his element might prove to you that everything the three of you had accomplished made all the long days and sleepless nights worth something. But there was a part of you that was nervous that going down there would prove that the gap you were afraid of truly existed, and then what would you do?

“You know,” Iwaizumi said carefully, watching your face. “I really needed this. I’ve missed you too.”

He didn’t know what you were thinking exactly, but he could see you were well in your own head and that the thoughts weren’t pleasant. The both of you had been under a lot of pressure lately, with finals and jobs and projects over the last few months, and he could tell it was getting to you. Besides that, he had missed you fiercely in the interim, often coming home to find you already asleep or still out. Sometimes you had left him something to eat but other times he was the one leaving you food. Little sticky notes adorned the fridge with thank you’s and other endearing notes to each other as well, reminding each of you that you weren’t alone.

He looked forward to those and the passing moments he could see you in the morning before classes or work. It was the only time you had, sipping coffee as you chatted about meaningless things before rushing around to get ready because you had wasted too much time talking, but you would do it again the next time anyway.

“Same,” you said, smiling. There was an odd feeling in your chest, like you had drank too much coffee, your heart racing far too fast for your liking.

Iwa quirked a brow at the strange look on your face, like an amused grimace, and laughed when you poked your lip out. You glanced at him and the look morphed to one of happiness, and he rolled his eyes. “Come here, stupid. Let’s put Netflix on and watch Wipeout or something.”

He grunted at the impact of you launching yourself at his chest. The couch bounced as you cackled, squirming around until you could lean back his side and he pushed at your head in response, scowling.

“What’s wrong, Iwa?” you asked as you made yourself comfortable, pulling his arm down around your shoulders in a familiar manner. Tilting your head back, you continued to grin maniacally at him. “You seem annoyed.”

“Yeah, that’s because I have a bratty ass roommate who seems intent on aggravating me. Thought I’d seen the end of it when Shittykawa left,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips turned up, a soft look in his eyes as he scowled. “Guess not.”

He flipped through the Netflix menu, looking for something to watch. They had removed Wipeout, but the search menu pulled up similar titles, and you pointed at the third one down.

“Guess not. What’s ‘The Floor Is Lava’? It looks similar,” you said, and he clicked into it. It was close enough so he hit play. “Anyway what’s new with you? What about that girl from your uh...chemistry class…?”

He had mentioned her a few times in the morning when you were supposed to be getting ready, but her name escaped you. Talking about her brought that same strange feeling back into your chest, and you squinted as you tried to recognize it. It was familiar somehow but foreign too, like you had experienced it before but it was so long ago you had forgotten.

“Oh,” he said, and shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah it-- eh. I didn’t have time to spare and we kinda drifted apart.”

He didn’t tell you that most of the free time he did have was spent with you. At first he had been really into her, but as his schedule became more packed and he spent less time at home, he had had to make a choice. It was one he wasn’t even aware of making until she had pointed it out to him.

“I know she’s your best friend and all, but you spend more time with her than me!” she had griped one evening over video chat. It was the only time he really saw her anymore, and he squirmed at her accusation. It wasn’t incorrect and it left him feeling guilty because it wasn’t fair to her. When he didn’t answer, she scoffed. “Maybe you should date her instead, since you’re so up her ass!”

She had hung up and he had mulled it over for days afterwards, when he couldn’t push it from his mind. It felt wrong to consider you in that way, like he was doing something dirty, and the next time he saw you he felt almost sleazy. Her words flooded his brain again, causing his face to flush, turning away to continue fixing your coffees. It was a while before he felt settled again after that, his heart picking up speed every time your name flashed on his phone-- because of course he didn’t see you for days after that.

He had to tell himself it was normal to want to spend time at home with you rather than go out to bars or crowded restaurants after spending days on end coming in late from classes and work. Because it was normal right? To want to be with you in the comfort of the apartment than out with anyone else?

The tightness in your chest eased at his words, and you giggled, fiddling with his fingers. “Guess that explains why you’re here with me instead of out with her, huh? Kinda sucks, being so busy. We have no free time to do anything.”

Iwa nodded, pinching one of your fingers between his and squeezing, listening to you squeal playfully. It felt good to be spending time with you in a way he never felt with anyone else and he tried not to overthink it. “Yeah, but in a few days we’ll be responsibility free.”

“True. I can’t wait. ‘M gonna shut my phone off and let everyone assume I’m dead,” you said as you picked up your phone to scroll through your Insta. Oikawa had posted a new photo just before he went to bed of him mid-set to one of his team members, his tongue poking out between his lips as he concentrated. It was gorgeous, his skin much tanner than he had been while living in Japan and he was so pretty it almost hurt. You clicked the heart beneath it, one of the thousands already there.

Part of you expected to be introduced to a new girlfriend when you arrived, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Picturing an unknown woman hanging around made you grimace, and you were gonna murder him if he did that.

Iwaizumi laughed, patting your hand. “Let’s not do that or they might send someone after us, and I for one don’t feel like being chased through the streets of San Juan by Matsukawa and Hanamaki.”

“Yikes, you’re right,” you said, turning your attention from your phone to the TV, where a trio of people were currently navigating what appeared to be a bedroom. A comfortable silence fell, broken only by the sound of the TV and you passed the rest of the night that way.

⇥ masterlist

⍣ 365 days of sun series | next

#iwaizumi x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader x oikawa #.distance

162 notes · View notes

cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

Forever and Ever, Ch. 5: Everything’s Coming Up Roses

Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader, Wedding Series

After months apart, you and Tom are reunited, but, with fans and paparazzi hot on your trail, it’s hard to enjoy private time together, like looking for wedding flowers and buying condoms.

Warnings: swearing, sexual themes (condom buying)

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

“Can you find the time to let your lover hold you

He needs somebody to hold to

His love is strong and so true

His arrows aiming for you

And he's the one that you were born to love

Love like this may come once

Baby it's fate

Like a soul mate he's your penguin”

Penguin, Christina Perri

A/N: this is rushed and unedited bc i’m going out of town sooo yeah enjoy

~~~

Tom wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he pulled up to the airport at 5 in the morning, but he definitely wasn’t expecting a small group of paparazzi and fans waiting at the exit of the baggage claim. No matter how they knew he was there, he was caught in a frustrated embarrassment.

With a small sigh, he stepped out of his car in his flannel green penguin printed pajama pants and his pink hoodie (he thoroughly regretted thinking “I can just wear my pajamas, no one will see me” earlier this morning when he was rushing out of the apartment). Doing his best to ignore the cameras that were most definitely on him, his face lit up when he saw you grabbing your luggage off the conveyor belt in baggage claim. Harrison stood beside you, having already grabbed his bags.

“Someone looks cozy.” You teased as Tom came up to the two of you.

“I think this is the best look I’ve had all year.” He joked, wrapping his arms around you. He barely got out “I missed you” before his lips were on yours.

“You know there’s paps here, right?” Harrison said, doing his best to not look at the cameras. You waved off your brother, continuing to savor Tom’s lips for another moment before stepping back, satisfied with the tender kiss. Your hand slipped into his, and he grabbed your luggage.

“I can carry it.” You insisted, and he shook his head.

“Nope. I’ve got it.” He stated.

Harrison rolled his eyes playfully at the two of you and held onto his own luggage. The three of you made your way out of the airport and to the car.

“Can’t wait for the press to have a field day with those pictures.” Tom grumbled as he loaded up your luggage into the car. He got into the driver’s seat and you sat beside him in the passenger’s seat while Harrison tried his best to catch up on sleep in the back.

“I love these pajamas though.” You smiled, cheekily running a finger on his thigh over one of the penguins.

Tom’s hand found yours, intertwining your fingers, while he drove away from the airport. “You only say that because you bought me these.”

“And you bought me them too, so we can match. I even brought them, so we can be wearing green penguins together.” You said, making a chuckle escape his lips. Tom placed a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, the smile never really leaving his face.

“How was the flight?” He asked.

“Would’ve been better if someone wasn’t snoring the whole time.”

“Fuck off,” Harrison grumbled from the backseat, “Better than you on Pinterest the entire flight.”

“I was only on Pinterest because you wouldn’t let me sleep.” You stated, turning around to look at him, just to see that his eyes were closed with his head leaned up against the headrest.

When you all got back to Tom’s rented apartment, Harrison made his way into the guest room, fully planning on sleeping for a majority of the day, while you changed into your own penguin pajama pants and one of Tom’s hoodies. As you came out of the bathroom, you saw Tom already curled up under the bedsheets.. Smiling at your sleepy fiance, you carefully slid into the bed as the clock struck 6. Tom let out a soft sigh, shifting to wrap his arms around you immediately.

“I love you so much.” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you, too.” You whispered as you cuddled in closer to him, letting your penguin covered legs intertwine with his.

You woke up a few hours later with sunlight streaming in through his open blinds. You contemplated getting up to fix them, but with Tom’s arm draped over you as he continued to sleep, you decided against it. Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you shifted a little so that you were out of the sole spot of sun in the room. Tom turned around next to you, his face falling right beside your shoulder, close enough that you could feel his warm, steady breaths fanning the hoodie.

Quietly, you snuck a quick picture of him, smiling at how his hair flopped onto his forehead and his mouth hung open just enough for a few snores to slip past. Without giving it a second thought, you posted the photo to your Instagram, teasingly captioning it: ‘send help, i think he’s drooling’. You held back a laugh, thinking of his reaction when he’d wake up to see the image, but it wasn’t something he hadn’t done to you.

In fact, that was how he confirmed your relationship after you’d first gotten together.

“What if we went public?” You said casually one night, wrapped up in Tom’s arms in bed as you two watched a movie on his laptop.

“I thought you wanted to wait.” Tom replied, surprise clear in his tone as he stopped the movie.

“Well, I did, but there’s already rumors, and we’re both happy and comfortable, right?” As soon as you said the words, you felt a small glimmer of doubt starting to creep in. What if Tom thought you two weren’t ready for that step? It was his career after all.

“Of course I’m happy with you. But I know the media and the fans can be a lot. If we go public, there’s no real going back from that.”

“Tom,” You grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, “It’s okay. I can handle it.”

After a few happy kisses of excitement, you two spent the rest of the night trying to decide what pictures would be okay. You both wanted it to be subtle, and, even though you’d only been dating for three months, it was oddly difficult to choose what image you wanted to signify “hey world, we’re dating”. It was late when you two finally settled on the perfect picture and decided tomorrow would be the day, the day that you both post about your relationship.

Tom woke up first that next morning, and a smile played on his lips as he saw you snuggled up to him, still wearing his t-shirt from last night. He was face up on his back, and your cheek was pressed right over his shirtless chest, directly above his heart. With an arm draped over his waist, you subconsciously clung to him. He slowly reached for his phone, doing his best to not move and wake you. Phone in hand, he smirked proudly to himself as he took a picture of you.

He tensed, hearing the camera click loudly. You shuffled on his chest. Still half-asleep, you mumbled, “Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Maybe.” Tom chuckled lightly, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. You didn’t seem to be truly bothered, drifting off to sleep again. Tom looked down at you and then at the picture, and he felt his heart swell with happiness.

He loved you, he just hadn’t told you that yet. And he couldn’t be more excited to share you with the world. Throwing away all picture conversations from the night before, he pulled up Instagram to post his new favorite picture of you. Keeping it simple, all he put as the caption was a single heart emoji, thinking that the picture would explain enough. Even with your face partially obscured, he knew the fans would know who you are; after all, you weren’t wrong last night when you said that fans already speculated that you two were together (though maybe publicly hanging out with you with no one else around was a bit of a give away).

The second after he hit post, he exited the app, locking his phone for now. He didn’t need the stress of seeing people’s reactions, not when you were there in his arms right now. He found himself subconsciously starting to caress your back, loosely running his fingers through your hair, as a way to calm himself down. His soft touches slowly woke you up.

Wordlessly, you reached a hand behind your back, taking Tom’s hand in yours. Murmuring, you asked, “Why are you nervous?”

Tom couldn’t open his mouth to respond before his phone began to ring, the ringtone telling the two of you that it was his manager. He grimaced at the sound, and you sat up to look at him, the blankets pooling around you. You eyed him suspiciously, “You took a picture and posted it, didn’t you?”

“If I say yes, will you hate me?” Tom asked, a sheepish smile on his face. You quickly grabbed your phone, pulling up Instagram. The post of you was blowing up your own account, an influx of followers suddenly coming in as well as pictures of you. When you saw Tom’s post, you softened, smiling at the picture of you taken only moments earlier. If anyone else had taken a picture of you and posted it without your consent, you would’ve been upset, but this was Tom, who you loved.

“I’ll get you back for this.” You teased, putting your phone aside to lean in and kiss him.

“Oh, will you now?” He mumbled against your lips.

Later that night, you posted a picture as well. It was simple, no caption necessary, just your legs in his lap, holding onto his arm as you leaned into him. And posting stolen pictures of each other sleeping became a regular occurrence, whether it be you sleeping on the plane beside Tom or Tom sleeping on set, cuddling you on a couch.

You felt Tom’s arms tighten around you momentarily before he blinked awake. He turned to face you, a sleepy smile on his face. Mumbling sweetly, he said, “You’re my favorite thing to wake up to.”

“You’re mine, too.” You reached a hand behind his neck, loosely playing with his curls as you pulled him in for a kiss. He smiled into the kiss, his lips tenderly moving over yours. It was soft, yet passionately full of love, the both of you savoring being together again.

The kiss slowly grew heated with you tugging lightly on his curls and him dipping his tongue between your lips. When you felt Tom’s hands wander to your waistline, thumbing the top of your pajama bottoms, you reluctantly pulled away. Tom opened his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows at you in confusion, “Is something wrong?”

“I switched my pills.” You said with a small sigh. When his confusion remained, you explained further, “My birth control pills. They won’t be fully effective for a couple more weeks.”

“Well, that’s shit planning.” Tom joked, before giving you a quick, reassuring kiss. “I can ask Harrison-”

“No.” You shook your head immediately. “You can’t seriously go ask him for a condom.”

“You’re right.” He let out a sigh, throwing his head back in frustration. “Guess we’re buying condoms today.”

“Don’t forget we’ve got the florist to see, too.” You laughed.

“Condoms and flowers. Perfect shopping list.”

A few short hours later, you and Tom walked into the nearby store, hand in hand, looking for the one thing neither of you had purchased in ages.

“We should get flavored ones.” You joked.

“But you won’t taste them.” Tom replied, pulling the hat down further on his face as you two stepped into the condom aisle, which thankfully was empty. While Tom had no problem with wearing condoms as protection or with buying them, the last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him. As you both came to a stop in front of the condom selection, your eyes went wide. “Where are the normal ones? And why are they all in Spanish?”

“Well, we are in Spain.” You leaned into his side, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Tom felt like his eyes were straining, stress bubbling up inside him as he stared at the boxes. He cursed himself for not knowing more than basic Spanish, and he definitely didn’t want to go through the embarrassment of asking for help.

“I say we get this one.” Tom grabbed the first box off the shelf.

“Pequeño? You know that means small, right?” You bit back a laugh as he huffed, putting it back on the shelf. You heard shuffling from behind you, and you felt him tense a little. Another couple, around your age, was now not too far from you, also looking at the condoms. Tom tried to pay no mind to them, grabbing another random box.

“That brand’s not very good.” The guy down the aisle said, his nose twisted up in disgust. “They’re uncomfortable.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Tom replied, clearing his throat awkwardly before putting the box back.

“You should get those.” The man pointed out, laughing a little. You and Tom looked at the box in question, and you couldn’t stop yourself from bursting out in laughter. Though Tom was doing his best despite the painful awkwardness of it all, he completely choked up at the red and blue box. It was safe to say, up until that moment, neither you nor Tom knew that Spider-Man themed condoms were a thing. “It’s actually a really good brand.”

“So, we’re getting these.” You said, through your laughter, grabbing the box with the iconic Queens superhero on it.

“Wow, never thought I’d be on a condom box.” Tom looked at the box in disbelief, before looking at the couple. “I take it you’re fans then?”

“Yes.” They both nodded.

“Congratulations on your engagement, by the way.” The girl stated with a smile.

“Thank you.” You replied happily.

“Could we ask for a picture or-” The guy began to ask, and Tom nodded.

“Just not in the condom aisle.” He laughed.

After a few pictures with the two fans, you both bought the condoms and managed to leave the store without getting recognized again. Following a quick stop back at the apartment (to drop off the condoms… among other things), you and Tom arrived at a local flower shop. Tom held onto your hand as you walked up and down the aisles, admiring the sights, smells, and feels of the various flowers. For how often Tom sent you flowers, he never really thought to look past the classic rose.

“What about hydrangeas?” You asked him, coming to a stop in front of a display of pink, purple, and white hydrangeas, all their petals beautifully bunched together.

“They look nice.” Tom hummed in agreement. “I like the pink better.”

“Me too.” You took out your phone to add the flower to your list, wanting to make sure you remembered which flowers in particular you two liked.

“Gardenias. Isn’t this the candle you have?” He asked, leaning down to smell one of the petite white flowers.

“Yes, it’s the candle you bought me.” You replied with a little laugh.

“I’ve got good taste.” He smiled proudly. You continued your walk amongst the flowers, adding carnations and baby’s breath to your list.

When the two of you made your way over to the roses, you noticed another customer, a teenage girl, had her phone out, and she did her best to not make it obvious that she was filming the two of you. You couldn’t get a word out to Tom before he checked his phone and spoke up, “Harry and Harrison want to go out for drinks tonight.”

“Sounds like we’ll all be hungover tomorrow morning.” You laughed, leaning into him as he eyed the roses. You pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering quietly in his ear, “We’ve been spotted again.”

“At least we’re looking at flowers, not condoms.” He chuckled softly. “Let’s just decide on some roses and then we can go back to the apartment, alright?”

“Sounds like a plan.” You replied. As you checked the tags on the roses, Tom did his best to look distracted. It was obvious why you two were in a floral shop, one that centered around wedding flowers, but he still didn’t want a wave of fans and paps to disrupt his time with you. Getting spotted three times in one day was incredibly unusual for him.

The fan never stepped forward to talk to either of you, and you both just played it off as if you weren’t being filmed while browsing flowers. By the time you two left the shop, there was a small crowd of paparazzi. Tom held onto your hand tightly, leading you through the crowd of flashing cameras.

“When’s the wedding?” “Who’s invited to the wedding?” Every question the paps threw at you two were wedding-themed, and it wasn’t until you two were in the safety of Tom’s car that you let out a shaky breath, one that you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“That was fun.” Tom said, annoyance clear in his tone as he started up the car. You kept your hand in his, knowing he needed the physical affirmation of comfort. Once he had driven far enough away that the photographs had stopped, he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“We’ll be extra sneaky at the pub.” You joked, making him playfully roll his eyes.

Later that night, when the four of you were out, you and Tom were beyond thankful for the lack of fans and paps in view. The freedom of not having a camera (well, besides Harry’s) on you two was quite possibly the best feeling in the world. It was just the four of you having a good time, nothing getting out that neither of you wanted out. Unfortunately, Harry wouldn’t let you two forget the pictures that were circulating all over the Internet today- you two standing in front of condoms, searching for which pack to buy.

“You know you two wouldn’t have gotten recognized if Tom wasn’t there.” Harry joked, but all of you knew the truth in that statement, even Tom.

“He’s the reason I need them.” You teased, and Tom laughed.

“Three times. Three bloody times today.” Tom sighed, taking a long drink of his beer. “We can’t even go to the store without someone seeing us.”

“Still can’t believe that fan outed us.” You added with a lighthearted laugh. “First they take a picture of us in front of condoms and then they ask for a picture.”

“While it might be great for you to talk about your sibling’s sex life, I don’t want to talk about my sister’s.” Harrison told Harry, an unamused look on his face. You rolled your eyes at him before snuggling even closer to Tom in the booth.

“What? They’ve been boning since that New Year’s party a few years ago, and they’re getting married now. Get over it.” Harry chuckled, and all eyes fell on him. You and Tom exchanged a quick glance, silently questioning how Harry knew about that, while Harrison just looked at him dumbfounded.

“How did you know about that?” Tom questioned, not really catching that Harrison was lost at the current conversation.

“You and Y/N went to your room at midnight and I saw her leave the next morning. I may have been sloshed and then severely hungover, but I know a hookup when I see one.” Harry explained before taking a sip of his beer. It was then that he looked over at Harrison, who was glancing between you and Tom, as you two both sported the same sheepish smiles.

“You hooked up with my sister?” Harrison accused Tom, his tone caught somewhere between disgusted by and angry with his best friend.

“Yes?” Tom answered truthfully, but it came out as more of a question. You slapped his arm lightly.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him.” You muttered, though both Harrison and Harry could hear you clearly.

“He knows now.” He replied, as if Harrison wasn’t there to speak for himself.

It was silent for a moment as Harrison processed the new information and Harry decided to just bite his tongue, not realizing that he had pieced together confidential information years ago. You took a long drink of your beer before sighing a little, “Well, we’re getting married anyway, so clearly it worked out.”

“Let’s just never talk about this again.” Harrison offered, getting up to grab you all another round.

“Agreed.” You and Tom replied synchronously.

Tom had thought the worst part of his day was wearing cringey pajamas to the airport, but nope, it was buying Spider-Man condoms and Harrison learning about New Year’s Eve. Both conversations, he’d gladly never bring up ever again.

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-hollands @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorrillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys @duskholland @biebsmylife95 @dummiesshort @perspectiveparker @miraclesoflove

Tom Holland Tag List: @quaksonhehe @tomkindholland

Series Tag List: @thefallenbibliophilequote @wassup-peoples @thevelvetseries @greatpizzascissorstaco @tomhollandsotherpinkytoe @asonofpeter @fallinfortom @millennial-teenybopper @rebekkah4766

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfic

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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2018shawn · 5 years ago

Text

prosecco courage

warnings: unprotected sex bc they’ve had the discussion in my head prior to this night so if you haven’t wrap before you tap folks. smut obvs, swearing, light choking and a boy giving into a girls persistent ways

a/n: asbfjasds I feel like I'm so bad at smut I'm so sorry but nevertheless, here is 5k of it bc the live tonight finally got me to finish it. @shawnsmoose sent me an smol request about 20 years ago, so here it is n I'm sorry I don’t feel like I captured the choking very well sooooo big laughs 🥵👀 we’re here for a good time not a long time peace out x

Tom looked at the picture on his phone for probably the 176th time since you’d sent him it earlier this evening. Your phone was held in one of your hands, pointing towards the mirror to take the picture, a glass of prosecco in the other. Your body was covered in nothing but a matching, red lace underwear set, clinging to and showing off each asset of yours. He’d seen you in it once before and lost his shit back then and as it turns out – nothing has changed. Groaning and throwing his head back against his headboard, he tossed his phone aside, trying to get back to concentrating on writing the script in front of him. Deadlines were a bitch.

You, on the other hand, were in the corner of a club downtown, the red lace underwear covered by your sexiest black dress and topped off with patent, nude heels and matching bag. It was fun; the amount of alcohol you’d consumed soaking into your veins made it more fun that what you’d anticipated. You wanted nothing more than to go about your usual Saturday routine – face mask, bubble bath and your comfiest pyjamas. Or you most recent routine – face mask, bubble bath, your sexiest pyjamas and fucking the living daylights out of Tom.

The music was booming, the group of your girlfriends enjoying their time as they huddled around their booth, topping up their drinks from the ice-cold bucket in the middle of the table. You pulled your phone out your bag, feeling more annoyed as you clicked on your conversation with Tom seeing he hadn't sent anymore messages. After you’d sent the picture, he’d simply replied, be careful, let me know if you need picking up 💙

What a way to make you feel stupid, for not replying to the picture you’d sent to him. It had taken you almost half a bottle of prosecco before you’d even headed out the door to pluck up the courage to press send. It only spurred you on to drink more, to forget about embarrassing yourself to someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend yet. The more you drank, the more you thought he probably had girls throwing themselves at him; as much as he says he’s only seeing you, who’s to say he’s not the same as every other man you’ve dated?

It was getting to almost 1 o’clock, which you were proud of as a very rare clubber, but your drinking was slowing down, your stomach feeling full of fizz. Normally, you’d be straight on the phone to Tom, asking him to come get you but what was the point if he didn’t even want to see a picture of you. You gulped the rest of your drink in one go, picking up your bag and leather jacket – because London was cold in the winter – giving the girls the heads up you were leaving.

Several pleads to stay and hugs from your closest friends later, you were heading out of the packed club, heading to the taxi rank just metres away from the club entrance. Tom picked his phone up after another thirty minutes of working some more, his brain coming to a halt with words, only being able to think of you and that damn picture. He knew if he replied and gave you the response you wanted, you’d cancel your night out and turn up at his place, which he didn’t want you to do. He wanted you to go and have a good time, you needed it after how much you’d been working and grafting, so he’d finally persuaded you to go with them, telling you he’d be here plenty of other nights for you casual date night. He told himself he awake this late on a Saturday night, working, because he wanted to get the script finished. The reality was, he was awake this late on a Saturday because you still hadn’t replied and he needed to know you were okay.

The taxi driver smiled at you as you sunk into the back seat of the black cab, “where to, miss?”-

A loud knock on Tom’s door at just gone 1:30am was the happy interruption he wanted for him to be able to close his finally close his laptop. He trudged to the door, wiping his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the heavy, sleepy feeling. He pulled off the chain, twisting the lock before tugging the door open, only hoping it was you the other side. And there you stood, your arms wrapped around your body to protect yourself from the cold and tom could understand why, the cold air hitting his bare top half, making him tense up. “Y/N?” He asked, blinking his eyes as if he was imagining.

“You’re an arse,” you spat, storming past him into the familiar warmth of his home. Despite your clear annoyance, he smiled at your presence, closing the door swiftly behind you to stop anymore heat from escaping.

“Excuse me?” He watched as you headed straight for the staircase, you high heels clicking over the hardwood floor before you kicked them off, tossing them to the side. Your hips swayed a little more than normal as you started your journey up his stairs, not caring that your dress rode up a little more than it had all evening. “And where are you going?”

“I need to pee,” you simply shouted, not bothering the turn around and look at him before disappearing out of his view.

He supposed he was meant to follow you, not very often dealing with the stubborn side of you thus far into your (not official) relationship. So he did just that. Locking up downstairs and switching all the lights off because he assumed you’d soon be crashed out on his bed, if the smell of alcohol as you drifted past him was anything to go by. The sound of the toilet flushing filled the empty silence before you reappeared, head leaning around his bedroom door to see where he was. On the bed, tom let his legs dangle of the foot of the bed, laying backwards with his arms flung across his face. You cleared you throat, and he removed his arms from over his eyes, sitting up and leaning on his forearms. The sweatpants that hung low on his hips, displaying the band of his boxers, were a total distraction from you being mad at him and he knew it.

“I’m an arse?” He asked, repeating your previous phrase with a hint of confusion in his tone.

You leaned against the door frame, still yet to enter his room as your arms crossed in front of you, body language telling him that you meant what you said, “Yeah.”

“And why is that?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow as you put all your body weight onto one side, your other leg bending at the knee. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body and admire the way the dress clung to your frame so perfectly and normally, he’d be ripping it off you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that from him right now.

“You ignored my picture.” Oh so this is what it’s about he thought to himself, a smirk subconsciously appearing on his lips. He got up from where he was sprawled on the bed and walked over to you, his hand snaking around your waist, all the time keeping the cocky smile on his lips. “Don’t smile, you jerk. I felt stupid! I felt… like you didn’t want the picture. Like I was just some other stupid girl that had fallen head over heels for you and was trying to woo you. It was humiliating…” you hiccupped, your hand coming up to cover your mouth, “… and now I’m really drunk because some guy bought everyone at the table drinks and I wasn’t gonna but I though hey, if Tom doesn’t want the attention then someone else sure as hell…” His lips crashed on to yours, stopping you before you let anything else leave you mouth. He hated to hear that he made you feel stupid. He hated even more that you felt like you needed to get the attention from another guy, but he couldn’t say too much because, technically, you weren’t officially his.

He pulled his lips away, licking off the taste of jägerbombs and vodka, letting his forehead rest against yours. “You know, I had to stop myself from looking at that picture and being a horny teenager all night. If I replied what I really want to reply, you wouldn’t have gone out and had a good time.”

“I need to sit down.” You demanded, and you didn’t know if it was the alcohol that was making you dizzy or if it was just the way he just won you over every single time. He laughed softly, pulling your arm and sitting you on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he told you before disappearing out of the room, returning minutes later with two bottles of water and some medicine in his hand, “take these.” He handed you two small pills, opening the bottle for you as you popped them into your mouth. He helped you in drinking some water, his spare hand resting under your chin and tilting it back as you let the ice-cold liquid wash down the medication.

For the first time of the evening, your lips curled up into a smile as a way of saying thank you as he put the bottles of water on the bedside table, your stubborn personality restricting you from saying it out loud. “He asked for my number...” you don’t know why you were saying it, because at the time you turned your back to the creepy stranger and pulled a sicky face, and you most definitely were not interested. The only thing you was interested in was getting some form of reaction from Tom. But it was as if you’d forgotten the words he’d spoken to you before you felt like you was about to throw up everywhere.

“Pardon?” You words stopped him dead in his tracks as he was about to walk past you, stopping striaght in front of you instead. He didn’t say it aggressively, he didn’t say it like he was annoyed, but you knew he was saying it just to make you repeat yourself for the sake of it.

“He... I’m...” suddenly you felt nervous and gulped as Tom hovered over you, looking down as you sat on the bed, staring into his torso because you were too scared to make eye contact. His body was insane, even more so when he’s stood directly in front of you and your eyes can’t even manage to look away. Each pair of abdominal muscles felt warm against your cold finger tips, the feeling of him tense underneath you sending a flush of heat to your core. His hand wrapped around your wrist, putting a pause on any gentle touches you were giving him. Your eyes finally pulled away from his chiseled feautures, slowly drifting up until they connected with his. “He asked for my number.”

“And what did you say, darling?” His voice was soft, again, not like he was annoyed. You kind of wanted him to be annoyed though, you wanted him to want you as much as you wanted him.

“I… I said I was seeing somebody else.” You couldn’t help but rebel against his grasp, wriggling your hand out of his firm grip and returning it to his lower stomach. Fingers traced the waistband of his sweats, and you thought the outline of his dick was more prominent that is was before. You wanted to show him that you wanted to be his because rejecting one other guy was just not enough.

“Love…” he started, grabbing your wrist again, “not whilst you’re this drunk.” You rolled your eyes and threw yourself back to the bed, landing with a thud against the feathery duvet. “I’m gonna get you some clothes.”

In all honesty, he couldn’t look at you for a minute longer because he wanted to rip the stupid, perfect dress off and have you underneath – or on top, whatever, he wasn’t fussy – him all night long. He knew he was bad with words; he knew he never let on his true feelings and that’s probably why he’s had so many failed attempts in the past. But you were different, he was closer to telling you how he felt more than he ever had been with anyone else. His shadow disappeared from over you, and you sat back up, watching the way his back tensed as he walked over to his wardrobe. Sifting through several drawers, he picked up a couple of options, assessing a few items to see if they were too big for you. He’d liked the fact you told the other guy you were seeing somebody. In fact, he loved it.

You sighed, wishing he’d put on a stupid top if he didn’t want you to pounce on him anytime soon. The black dress that covered your body, was being tugged over your head messily by your arms, almost getting yourself stuck in the mesh material. He still had his back to you as you threw it to the floor, smoothing your fingers over your body whilst assessing the presentation of that red lace underwear.

“You know, I really did have to stop myself, with that picture. You looked fucking incredible, Y/N.” He said the words whilst he had the courage to say them, usually defeated by his inside voice when it came to discussing how he felt. “I think I picked my phone up about…” He turned around, sweats and a t-shirt in his hands and his jaw clenched. His eyes widened at the sight before him; you lay on his bed, on your stomach, with your legs crossed in the air and head resting in the palm of your hands. You can imagine cringing at yourself in the morning, because being sexy didn’t come naturally to you.

“Babe, please don’t make this harder than it already is” he laughed, placing the comfy outfit on the corner of the bed.

“Make what harder?” You looked up innocently, through your fluttery lashes, putting on the most delicate voice you could muster. He admired your body, tanned and smooth. The freckles on your back he’d once spent all afternoon counting – around 57, if you’re wondering – were only partially covered by the strap of your bra, which stood out immensely against your skin. The matching bright red panties adorned your hips perfectly, sculpting around your curvy hips and peachy derriere.

“Come here, let’s get you dressed,” he held out his hand, which although you didn’t want to, you took, shuffling yourself up to sit on your knees at the end of the bed.

“But I don’t wannaaaaaaa” you whined, quivering your lower lip.

“But you gottaaaaaa” he mimicked you, sticking his tongue out. That damn tongue. Could be put to better use somewhere else, you thought, giggling to yourself like a little lovestruck teenager as he just shot you a look at you amusing yourself.

If god was real, he was stood in front of you, attempting to get you to bed.

When you reached over to the short pile of clothes he’d placed on the end of the bed for you and pushed them off the edge, so they landed in a pile on the floor, he rolled his eyes. “Oops.” You shrugged. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats again and he was getting tired of fighting you off. It not that he didn’t want you, because he’d be crazy not to, but he just didn’t want to take advantage of your current tipsy state, he’d been brought up better than that. You pulled at his joggers, making him tumble forwards towards you, already cringing at your desperate and needy voice. “Why don’t you want me… Tommy?”

The nickname was all it took to leap on top of you, pinning you down. His hand held around your neck, holding your head still as you flopped back against the bed sheets yet again. If you’d have known, you’d have said it sooner. You couldn’t help but smirk, your constant nagging finally getting you somewhere. His other hand kept him from crushing your body, holding up his weight above you. His eyes were lustful, like he’d switched personalities in a matter of seconds.

“You don’t think I want you?” He asked, voice quiet but rough. His breath felt hot against your skin, and you wriggled underneath him for a brief moment, until he moved his hand from your neck and snaked it down your body, making sure to take his time until he got to your wetting centre. He cupped whatever of you he could, his warm hands meeting your warm core creating the most uncontrollable heat between you.

“No. I don’t.” you spoke, with a hint of bratiness portraying in your words even though you felt like melted butter beneath him. A quiet tut left his mouth and you think it was followed by a dark chuckle, but you couldn’t be sure because you’d zoned into a world of desperation. Your hips bucked up against his hand, only briefly getting more pressure from him.

“Fuck this,” he spat, crashing down onto your lips, his thumb tracing the outline of your swollen folds through the material of your damp panties. He didn’t want to give in, he thought he could be better than that, but you made it too damn impossible for him to going about a normal nightly routine without being so irresistible.

A whimper fell from your plump lips as he pulled away, instantly attaching to the skin on your neck where a faint red mark had formed from where he had grabbed you. He soothed the area with his lips, tongue lapping across the sensitive area. The strain against his sweatpants was getting intense, digging into the inner of your thighs the further down your body his lips travelled. You muttered a string of words, squirming beneath him.

His hand came from your aching middle, fiercely reaching up and cupping your breast like he was holding onto it for dear life. Beneath the lace covering, your nipple hardened as he caressed you through the fabric, teasing it in between his nimble fingers. He got off on seeing you pleased, he knew that, you knew that, hell, even Sandra next door fucking knew that. So when his lips didn’t stop at your stomach and continued further south, you knew you could count your blessings and say goodbye to your bratty attitude. With one hand, he tugged your underwear to the side, tracing your damp folds with his fingers. “Tom…” You breathed, desperate for his touch. He smirked, not that you could see, as his head bowed further into the valley of your legs.

Replacing where his fingers had been, his tongue followed suit of his digits, tracing your dripping folds and circling your throbbing clit. That was the first squeal of pleasure you let out, mouth dropping wide and hands coming up to his freshly shaved hair. You were annoyed he had to shave it off, wanting nothing more to run your fingers through his floppy brown hair and tug away at it. Grabbing the next best thing, your fingers bunched up as much of the duvet as they could grab as he continued to tease your entrance, the roughness of his buzzcut brushing against your inner thighs. Reapplying pressure from his fingers caused your second squeal, your chest showing your heavy breathing and back arching into him. He squeezed your breast intensely in an attempt to communicate with you whilst his mouth was busy elsewhere. If this is where being drunk got you, you thought you’d start drinking every day, because never before has he loved and performed with such hungry passion like this.

The sound of his lips working against your cunt was the only thing filling the room, other than the sounds of your whimpers and whines. The vibrations shuddered through your body as he hummed into you, his hand trying to reach further up and find a place back on your neck. He noted your heavier breathing and the way your legs wrapped around his shoulders, getting tighter by the second. He knew you well enough to know that he could make you cum, just from using his mouth, but he didn’t want that. He wanted to push you, like you had pushed him.

When he was unsuccessful in reaching to your collar, he pulled away from your ridiculously wet core, sucking on your clit and pulling away with a pop, regaining his breath and wiping his mouth on the sheets beneath him. “You really do want me, huh?” He smirked, crawling up until he was face to face with you, admiring your flushed and rosy cheeks. Your teeth captured your bottom lip, nodding silently to his question, feeling unsatisfied with the lack of touch. He sat up on his knees, in between your legs, and tugged at the waistband of his sweats and boxers, pulling them down his legs, for what felt like the longest time, until his member popped free and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are for him, feeling your panties stick to you.

“P-please, Tom” you breathe, hands releasing the ball of material in your hands and reaching up for him. He snaps your hands away, still annoyed by your persistent plan to get him to this point and he pushes them above your head, your arms stretched out as much as can be.

“Get up.” He demanded, moving back away from you to give you enough room to slide out. You remained stuck to the bed, however, confused by his sudden instructions. Was he kicking you out? Had you literally been that desperate he didn’t wanna do it?

“Huh?” You questioned as he shuffled back on his knees until his legs could slide off the foot of the bed, landing on the floor with his sweat’s puddled around his ankles.

“Get up.” He repeated, same tone but slightly higher volume. You sat up, wiggling your bum until your legs also fell over the edge of the bed. Your legs were wide, his body inbetween them as he traced his hand up your skin, starting at the valley of your breasts and finishing at your neck. His large hand cupped your jaw, and it the most delicately forceful way possible, he put pressure onto you, forcing your body to stand upright as you followed the direction of his touch. As soon as you were stood, legs threatening to buckle beneath you any minute, he once again soothed over the red mark around your jaw, relaxing his tongue against your skin.

Your arms bent around to your back, fingers clasping at the buckle of your bra, until he he caught you, pulling his head sharply away from your neck and capturing your wrists in his hands. “No,” he said, voice gentle this time, as if you were about to walk out the door and never come back.

“No?” You asked, relaxing your shoulder and letting your arms drop to your side.

“No.” He repeated, more definite with his tone of voice this time. “You wanted me to see this little ensemble...” His hands pointed over your body before they found your hips, twisting your body round 180° so you were facing the bed, your back facing his front. You got his gist, mentally cursing yourself as you was reminded of the picture. You were thankful for the alcohol, though. You wern’t sure you’d be so confident in it without the help of your little friend, prosecco.

You bent forewords, walking your hands across the bed until you were happy you were bent over far enough, your ass higher in the air than the rest of your body. Blonde curls slinked over your shoulder as you turned your head, and what you saw was nothing but a beautiful sight.

Toms arm tensed as his hand wrapped around his hardened length, a groan of pleasure leaving his lips from the anticipated touch. He pumped himself a few times as he admired the way the lace decorated the curves of your ass; the Brazilian fitting showed off the creases of your hips and the soft natural stretch marks which he could spend hours kissing. His bottom lip was sucked in by his teeth and you reciprocated the action, staring up lustfully at him.

You wanted to beg. You wanted to push your ass back so you could feel his cock against you. But before you had time to decide if that was a wise idea, he took two small steps foreword, lining himself up with the centre of your body. You sucked in air, stomach knotting with butterflies as you waited for him where you most needed him. At tap from his hand on your ass jolted your body forwards, falling onto your forearms and chest flush against the bed.

You didn’t dare look back, not knowing how much more of him you could look at before you jumped ship and ended up getting yourself off. The feel of him pushing your pants to the side made you jump, a gasp escaping you as he ran his index finger up your folds, making sure you were wet enough. Satisfied with how he’d made you dripping with juices, he nudged the tip of his cock against you. Simultaneously, you both let out a moan, both needing it as much as each other. When he pushed into you, at the slowest pace possible to let you adjust around him, he gripped his right hand around your hip to hold you in place.

He began slow, grunting behind you each time you pushed back onto him. A string of unforgivable words left your mouth as you kept a straight posture, noting how the headboard smashed against the back wall as his thrusts grew deeper, the sound synchronised with the sound of his hips smashing against your ass. He released your hip, reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of your bouncy hair. Tugging your hair towards his body, you squealed as your head followed, back arching in the most flexible manner. Whilst keeping hold of your hair, he reached further round, grabbing the front of your neck to keep you from falling foreward to the bed.

The feeling of him clutching onto your neck sent your mind into overdrive although you struggled to spit out an approving moan, your throat being restricted by the pressure of his hand. Your legs began to quiver, bucking beneath you. Tom flipped you over in one swift movement, hand remaining on your neck the entire time as he thrusted back into you, hating the feeling of being out of you; even 2 seconds was too long. He held you there, by your throat, reminding himself that you were here, with him, and not that stupid guy at the club. He wanted you to know he was holding onto you because he never wanted you think about another guy again. He wanted you to know that he felt utterly awful for not making you feel as good as you should about that picture. He wanted you to know, that he wanted you.

He felt himself getting close, more so now he was face to face with you, adoring how your mouth fell open, lustful eyes meeting his. When you bit your lip and giggled, he couldn’t understand how he was on top of, choking you and fucking you until you forgot about the sleazy guy at the bar, yet you could be the cutest human on the planet. He relaxed his hand, swiping his thumb over your lip in what you found to be more of a delicate moment compared to the ones he’d been showing you all night. His head bobbed down, lips hovering over yours as he spoke quietly. “I want you.” He breathed, tensing and twitching as you wrapped your legs around him, “so fucking much.”

His words were genuine, but you couldn’t understand. He had you. Underneath him. In his bedroom. At 2am on a Sunday morning. “You’ve got me.” You breathed, fingers playing with the hair -or lack of - at the nape of his neck as he rested his forehead on yours. He felt sticky, but you were sure that you did too.

“All the time?” He asked with a quiver in his voice, but you put it down the the fact you were both on the edge of a climax. You just nodded, biting your lip to stifle a squeal at both your orgasm and excitement of his words. His hips didn’t stop or slow down like you expected them and you knew you were on the brink of finishing, fingers clutching and digging into his back at an attempt to hold on longer.

“Tom... I- I’m-” You struggled to talk, cutting your sentence short and interrupting yourself with a scream, your eyes rolling back and squeezing shut. He breathed into the crook of your neck, a small mmhmm humming through hip lips in agreement. When his rhythm slowed as hips jolted fewer times, but with more deep and powerful thrusts, he nudged your spot, leaving you crumbling beneath him whilst a string of ohmygod’s and fuck-tom’s left you, your voice shaking in tune with your legs.

Your hips jolted upwards as your came around from your climax, pushing into him as he experienced his own. His arm snaked round your back, pulling you into him as if you lifting up to meet his thrusts wasn’t enough, before he was moaning in your ear, sending shivers through your body like nothing you’ve ever known.

Neither of you knew how long you’d been there; him on top and still inside you and you catching your breath beneath him. But you both did know, is that you wanted to be there for forever more. It was maybe minutes until he rolled out of you, flopping back onto the bed with a satisfied groan. He still had an arm underneath you, and he tugged it, rolling you onto your side and further into his body. You aching centre felt sore, but very well loved and you couldn’t help but smile. “So... about that guy at the bar?”

“What about him?” Your eyebrows furrowed, not expecting that to be the first thing to come up after having mind blowing sex.

“I’m gonna fuck him up for speaking to my girl.”

------

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader

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bittywitches · 4 years ago

Note

I’m obsessed with the college roommates concept— maybe you’re feelings lonely and kinda sad abt ur love life one night and Grayson offers to take you on a date just for fun as friends but then ~feelings~ happen ☺️

Umm do you mean that one episode in season 8 of friends where Joey takes out pregnant Rachel and gets his crush on her??? Bc yes :))

It’s probably just been one of those weeks, you know? An assload of assignments, tests and exams every other day, most of which you’d completely bombed and were feeling shitty about. You hadn’t had more than 5 hours of sleep a day in like a month, you’d been living off of microwavables and instant noodles, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a sip of water since all your energy has been from coffee. And the kids in all your group projects this semester? Idiots. Selfish pricks. Every single one of them.

So it was needless to say that you were just in one of those moods. It was a Friday night, so things had slowed down enough, finally, but it also finally gave you some time to let yourself think, and god it was not great when you had to think.

It had started as just one of those basic thoughts; “What am doing? Where is this going?” which lead to “Why am I even in college in the first place?” Ending with “Oh my god I’m wasting my life and I’m gonna be alone forever”.

By the time Grayson had made it home that night, you were huddled up in the living room sofa under a blanket, your laptop open in your lap and snacks all over the table a couch while “Isn’t she lovely” by Stevie Wonder played on your phone as you tried your best not to burst into tears at the thought of never finding a boyfriend.

“Whoa, I don’t remember getting my invite to this slumber party.” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and throwing his bag onto the single sofa next to yours.

You slumped your shoulders. “It’s not a slumber party, it’s a pity party.”

“Oh?” He sat himself down on the sofa. “Who for?”

“Me, who else?” You wallowed, stuffing some more popcorn into your mouth.

“Why, did you get marks back?” He asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, a bit concerned at the volume of popcorn you were putting into your mouth with each bite.

“No, but what’s the point? I already know I’m doing bad.” You slumped backwards into the couch, just wishing you could be swallowed by the pillows and cushions.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your knee, looking at you seriously now. He knew you. Your general melt downs he was used to, but this was different. He could tell something was wrong. “You okay?”

You sighed, grabbing your phone off the counter and pausing the song so you could think straight. “You don’t wanna hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

You sighed, slipping your legs out from under you and dangling them off the couch. “Okay, um..” Grayson’s hand had fallen away, and you suddenly felt like rubbing the spot on your leg where it had been. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve just been so busy lately, and it’s just gotten me thinking about my life in general. And how I haven’t gone out on a date in like…” You had to stop and think, and started laughing after a few seconds. “In so long I can’t even remember. Wow, god.” You sunk back into the couch. “I miss dating.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Yea?”

“Yeah, you know,” You waved your hands around vaguely. “The whole excitement of it. Getting to dress up and look all nice. Feeling all pretty.” He tilted his head at you, and you shook your head and laughed. “But you know, not that I need the reminder. I’m obviously hot as fuck.” You gestured to yourself, highlighting your nest of hair and your stained sweatshirt. You waited for him to laugh, but he just continued to look at you with that weirdly deep expression.

“What?”

“How about I take you on a date?”

You blinked at him, then started to chuckle, confused. “Huh?”

“You know, as friends. But I’ll give you like, the whole experience.”

You almost spit at that. “The ‘whole experience’?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. We’ll get all dressed up, go out to a nice place for dinner or something.”

You sat up now, your eyes narrowed at him. “Why?”

“Why not? It’s a friday. If you have stuff to do you can always do it later.”

“You know where that mindset gets me, Dolan.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He smiled. “Plus, you deserve a fun night.”

You scoffed. “Yea, but not with a boyfriend or anything. With my roommate.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Incredibly.”

“God just shut up and go change.”

You laughed. “I— You know what? What the heck.” You got up, and he did with you. “Ah, okay!” You gave him a quick squeeze before running to your room, and his eyes followed after you, a gentle smile on his lips.

…

He’d done the whole shebang. He got dressed in a nice dress shirt and clean black jeans, something you’d actually never seen him wear before. He’d somehow gotten you a bouquet of flowers, which, you weren’t even sure where or how he’d gotten them, because you couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes to get ready. Nonetheless, he truly was the gentleman you had never expected. This was Grayson, the guy you watched old disney movies with and cried with during finals. He was the one you’d eat whole pints of ice cream with and play The Last of Us with and helped you master. He certainly wasn’t the one who was supposed to be complimenting you on your dress and taking you out to nice dinners. But here he was, doing just that.

He’d parked his car and was now escorting you inside this tiny but upscale italian restaurant, simple but elegant. As you entered through the glass door, the dazzling chandelier above the waiting area along with the gorgeous red sconces blew you away.

“Grayson how did you get a place like this on such short notice?” You whispered to him, gripping his arm, a bit intimidated by all the fancy folk waiting inside.

“I know some people.” He responded, a small smile on his lips.

You slapped his arm. “As if, you don’t even know the name of the Starbucks barista on campus.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me be cool?” You stared at him waiting for the response, and he sighed. “This place is fairly new. Not that many people know about it yet, so it’s pretty easy to get a reservation.”

“How’d you know about it then?”

“Found it when I was looking for a place to take Sarah to.”

“Oh my god that girl from your Kinesiology class?” You looked at him with wide eyes and a grin on your face. “No way! I didn’t think you’d grow the balls to ask her out.”

“Hey,” He said, but you laughed. “Well, I haven’t exactly asked her yet. I was just checking it out.”

“Well either way, she’s going to love this place, it’s so extravagant.” You made it to the front and Grayson informed the woman standing there of his reservation. She escorted you both inside and brought you to a table next to one of the windows. She’d dropped off two glasses of water and menus for you both to look at in the meantime. You peaked at the one in front of you, and your eyes grew again.

“Gray, did you happen to look at the prices before coming here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m buying.” He flipped through his casually, as if he wasn’t exasperated at the large numbers printed on the cards.

“Are you serious? What are you, made of money?”

“Hey, I promised you a fun night, right? I can make a few sacrifices.”

A young man came up to your table, and you both gave him your order. You ended up choosing the cheapest thing on the menu, because a) you didn’t want to be too much of a burden on Grayson, but also b) you barely knew what any of it was anyways. He left, you both chatted for a bit, and he returned with your meals, both of them being some sort of pasta that you were a bit embarrassed about not knowing the differences between.

Grayson didn’t really know that much either, to be quite honest, but for some reason he felt the need to impress you with this place. And he was pretty giddy about the fact that it was working.

But throughout this, you had kept staring at him, frankly a bit shocked at the whole situation you both were in. You had to shake your head to get your thoughts straight, but ended up giggling. “So, you always this sweet with the girls you take out on dates?”

He bit his cheek, but decided to play along, lowering his fork and leaning in towards you to hear you over the chatter in the restaurant. “Why, you interested?”

“No, just curious what it is that Grayson Dolan pulls to get a girl.” You crossed your arms on the table, on elbow propped up with your chin resting on your hand. “Tell me, you have any moves?”

He laughed. “What, that I just use with every girl?”

“Don’t act so modest. There’s gotta be something. What gets them drooling?” You asked a playful smile on your lips.

He rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food. “Okay fine, um.” He cleared his throat. “It usually starts out the same, I ask them about themself. Where they’re from, what they do— like, okay. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You snorted. “Are we doing this? Are we playing this out?”

“Yesss, go with it.”

You laughed. “Okay, uh well. I like to paint sometimes.”

“Yea? What kind of stuff?”

“Well I used to do more traditional stuff, my parents were really into those pretty realism paintings. I’d do flowers and fruits and whatever, but every since, I guess junior year of high school, I’ve been doing more pop art pieces? And a lot more self-indulgent stuff. And I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling, but also realizing that Grayson had his soft eyes fixed on yours.

“What?”

His eyes widened a little, as if you’d shook him out of a daze, and he chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just, uh... “ He smiled. “Your eyes are really pretty.”

Your face flushed a little bit, and you looked away from him, taking a sip of water to use it as your excuse. “Ah, thank you.”

He shook his head. “Anyways, so do you still do pop art now? Or has it changed since you’ve started college?”

You blinked at him, then covered your mouth as you opened it in slight shock. “Wow, that was really good.”

He laughed. “Yea?”

“The eye thing was good on it’s own but to know you were actually listening to me? I’m impressed.” You nodded in approval.

He tilted his head, chuckling. “Thank you, thank you.” He took another bite of food before continuing. “So what about you? You have any moves?”

You snorted again. “Gray, I barely go out on enough dates in the first place, much less enough to establish any moves.”

“Why are you always so modest? You can tell me you know.”

You laughed. “Yeah duh I know, but I’m genuinely serious this time. I don’t get asked out all that often.” You shrugged. “It’s why I get excited when I do get to go on dates. It’s fun.”

Grayson was the one who couldn’t help but stare now. He blinked at you, unable to really comprehend what you were saying to him. How could people not want to ask you out? You were incredible. Looking at you now, your hair up in a dainty bun, a few curls falling down the sides of your face; your pretty off the shoulder dress that matched your deep magenta-maroon lipstick. And he wasn’t lying about your eyes, they really were so pretty. They sparkled, even more so when you were laughing. Which was usually accompanied by your scrunched up nose, making you look like a cute little bunny. He smiled at the thought, as he loved seeing that expression on your face.

“Huh.” he said out loud then, not realizing when it was he had starting noticing your small actions like that so much.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him, and suddenly, seeing those same eyes he always saw staring at him, he felt almost light headed. His face felt warm, seeing you look at him like that. He was almost afraid that you could see what he was thinking. But why would that be a problem unless…

Grayson slowly widened his eyes. Did he seriously have feelings for Y/N?

“Nothing, sorry.” He said with a smile, looking back down at his food. Sure, he’d always thought you were amazing. You were gorgeous, sure, and you made him laugh. And yea he loved hanging out with you, watching movies and playing video games, and he adored being your roommate, having late night conversations and spending all your free time together…

He wanted to mentally smack himself in the face. Shit, he had feelings for you.

This was going to be a long night.

#not me getting ~carried away~ as usual #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan concept #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins #ask #anon

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yonymii · 4 years ago

Text

2 arabesques

a/n; this one was hard to write bc I did it while having writers block but I hope it's ok!! I love alisa a lot she is lovely and I would marry her if she was real 🥰🥰😍😁😁 also I got very absorbed like, halfway through so y/ns personality is basically me. yes

wc; 3.9k

warnings; cursing,

genre; fluff, strangers/friends to lovers, romance

pairing; alisa haiba x gn!reader

listen to 2 arabesques here!

She reminded you of the old paintings of angels you’d seen in art galleries as a child. It was weird, seeing something so ethereal reincarnate as a university student. She didn’t belong here; she belonged on a pedestal, deserved to be adored. But life was unfair, you supposed, and not everyone could experience the excitement of such an elaborate life. Perhaps that was why she was studying fashion modeling in the first place (whatever that was). You’d probably never know. She had absolutely no idea who you were.

By the time you’d stopped daydreaming, your final class of the day was over and everyone had left. Only you were left in the lecture hall, sitting at the very back with your head resting ontop of your arms, the shuffling of the professor packing up his things quickly making tiny little noises at the front of the room. He left, the door swinging shut behind him, but it wasn’t locked.

It didn’t take you long to pack up, seeing as your laptop hadn’t left your bag in the first place. You swung it over your shoulder after your coat, tucking your hands into the sleeves to protect them from the bite of the wind. It had been snowing when you arrived in the morning, and it took and hour to wake up your fingers to be able to type, let alone write anything.

The hallways were quiet (as usual; it wasn’t as if anyone wanted to stay in school when they didn’t need to). The little shop on the ground floor had a few students in it, but they were in a hurry to leave too. The large exit doors had obviously been open all day and it was absolutely freezing. You were glad you’d put on your big coat in the morning; it was a long walk back to your apartment and you planned on going to a coffee shop before going there.

It had stopped snowing, but the ground was covered in puddles and your boots and feet got soaked in numbingly cold water as you wandered towards the place you usually studied. It was slowly getting darker as you walked and the sun was lowering itself below the tall line of skyscrapers and apartment blocks when you entered the coffee shop and joined the small queue of teenagers and tired-looking adults ordering their drinks.

It was quiet inside but you were thankful for the warmth the heaters provided, and the low hum of voices under the music wasn’t unwelcome; you payed for your drink quickly and went to sit at your usual spot, the two-seater table in the corner. There was a small, dim light hanging above your head and it lit the space in a soft, golden glow, unlike the rest of the coffee shop that was lit by streetlamps outside. The moon was hid behind a building, only half of it visible, but you still found yourself staring at it for an unnecessary amount of time. It reminded you of her; your friend’s friend. The girl studying fashion modeling.

To be quite honest, you didn’t see her that often, so it was a mystery as to why she plagued your mind so often. Apparently, her brother played volleyball for a highschool called Nekoma (albeit not very well), and she was half Russian. Not that it mattered to you, though. You supposed that you’d like her anyway.

Suddenly, you found yourself snapped out of your little trance by the waiter bringing your mug to the table and setting it down a little too loudly. He walked away quickly, avoiding any sort of contact with you, but you weren’t bothered by it. You were focused on your book so the lack of conversation wasn’t disappointing in the slightest. The bell at the door rung again, and because of the small distraction of your drink arriving you raised your head to see who it was, somewhat begrudgingly, despite it being completely of your own accord.

Your eyes were met with a pair of stark green ones that seemed to go right through you; you shivered, not because they were unfriendly. Admittedly, you knew who she was, but your frank lack of energy made it hard to want to communicate with anyone, and so you pretended not to see her, looking back down at your book and swiftly burying yourself in the pages, as if you were trying to hide from her.

You knew your efforts were futile though. She was almost too nice, and it wasn’t like she knew you were already half-asleep and probably weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. At this point, you weren’t even reading. The words were going right over your head.

You heard her footsteps before her voice, and you didn’t even need to look up to know she was smiling. “Y/n!”. Too loud. You tried not to wince to noticeably.

“Hey, Alisa,” you managed to spit a greeting out. You weren’t sure what you thought about her at this point. You were tired, and it was late, and you had so many essays due that you doubted you’d get more than an hour of sleep over the next few days. Yeah, sure, you loved her but you were so overwhelmed you didn’t think you’d be able to handle talking to one more person. Emotions were confusing (especially when you considered yourself to be in love, whatever that felt like).

“How have you been?”, her voice was like silk, and you had to wait a moment to process what she was saying. Alisa continued, “I haven’t seen you since last month! How have you been?” she looked down at your book, then at your bag that barely held all the paper assigments from your classes. She laughed (the same laugh that gave you heart palpitations. This was the reason she wasn’t good for you) “You look busy.”

You laughed (it was sort of forced, but that isn’t the point), “Yeah. School tends to keep you busy,” you paused, adding shakily, “I’m used to it, though. Don’t worry about me!”

The blonde girl frowned as she watched you panic, your eyes darting everywhere but her. It was hard not to worry when you watch someone you consider a friend fall apart in the back corner of a coffee shop. She tried her best to ignore it though, and as soon as you managed to look back at her she continued the conversation.

“I don’t think we have each other’s numbers yet, y/n. Do you mind exchanging? Maybe we could go out together sometime, since i have to get home and look after Lev,” she sighed, and her eyes closed momentarily, “He’s a bit of a handful. For a fifteen-year-old.”

You didn’t have the energy to feel sorry for her but you let her enter her number into your phone, and she listened attentively when you told her yours to make sure she didn’t get it wrong and end up texting a random stranger to make plans. After you watched her leave, take-out cup of coffee in hand, you lay your head on the darkening pages of your book, ear pressed to the paper. You closed your eyes for a moment and then sat up, breathing deeply as you drank the rest of your tea. You closed your book, tucking it into the bottom of your bag and standing up, patting your coat pocket to check that your phone was still in there.

It was pitch-black when you stepped outside, and the streetlamps made you squint and cover your eyes with one hand; your apartment wasn’t too far away but it was cold and taxis were easy. You flagged one down and climbed into the back, sitting directly behind the driver (it made you feel safer anyway), and you put in your headphones.

The drive passed quickly, and as soon as you paid for the journey and exited the car you began to walk briskly up the stairs to your place. Your keys were in the same pocket as your phone, and you pulled them out wearily, pushing the silver one into the lock and turning it till you heard the familiar click.

The door felt extra heavy tonight, and your bag dropped to the floor just as quickly as you dropped onto your bed. The lights were too bright to turn on but the fairy lights lining the walls were fine; you opted for them as you dropped your thick coat next to your bag and shoes. Closing the window from the freezing cold and switching on the little heater, you crawled into bed and let the warmth envelop you. You fell asleep in mere seconds, ignoring the loud vibrations from your phone carry across the room.

Most of the time, when you don’t want to reply to someone’s message or call them back, you just pretend to have not read it or noticed in the first place. It was weird, leaving the notification there, just to remind yourself that she texted you first. When you’d exchanged numbers the previous week, you just assumed that you’d be the first one to reach out. That’s how it had been with every other friend you’d made. You weren’t disappointed; in fact, you were grateful. You hated having to initiate conversations, however you still felt bad for not replying.

It had been five days since Alisa first messaged you, three since the second time, and fifteen minutes since the last. The latest one read ‘I’m coming over. Be about 20 minutes!’.

You sighed, reading it once more and then turning your brightness down. Just because you hadn’t replied to any of her texts didn’t mean you weren’t ok. The music barely reached your ears since you were buried so deep under your covers, but that was fine. You weren’t really listening to it anyways.

There was a knock at the door. You didn’t think that the person on the other side realised how thin it was, but you definitely heard them sigh and let out a string of curses after you didn’t reply. It was Alisa, but you knew that. Nobody else would want to check in on you. The doorknob rattled and you winced; too loud. It opened, a little quieter this time, and slowly, the covers were peeled off of your figure. Alisa sighed (again. How sick of you could she possibly be? You only got back in touch less that six days ago) and looked down at you with disdain.

“You need to get up. Have you missed any classes?” you shook you head in response to her questions. You couldn’t miss classes. It’s not as if you found them particularly difficult. Just a little boring, that’s all.

You closed your eyes, tapping your fingers against the mattress. The blinds had been opened and now the evening light was pouring into your room unfiltered. Alisa grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you up painfully slowly. You groaned, rubbing your eyes and patting her hand to let her know you can sit up on your own.

You opened your eyes somewhat begrudgingly, squinting from the still too-bright light. Alisa was stood at your small fridge, rifling through whatever food was left in there. She pulled out a half-full bottle of milk and a packet of ham. “Do you not uhh,” she paused, “have any… other kinds of food? Or is your diet limited to milk and ham sandwiches?”

“I usually get takeout. Or ham sandwiches. Sort of depends how lazy i’m feeling on that day.” She turned and smiled at you, nodded her head back towards the door. “We can go to mine. I have ‘good’ food there. Lev needs feeding anyways.”. You grinned, “I thought Lev was fifteen?”

“Yeah, but he’s still incompetent. I’ll teach him to cook later, when i’m not taking care of you.”

You looked down at your lap, and then at the pair of shoes on the floor next to your bed. Sliding them on, you stood, looking at Alisa for approval. “You look fine. When was the last time you changed?”

You hesitated, thinking for a moment, “A few hours ago, when i got back from class.” You grabbed the brush on the bedside table and combed through your hair a few times, evening it out from the mess it was a minute ago. “C’mon,” Alisa opened the door, “Don’t forget your keys! I doubt you wanna get locked out, right?”

Alisa’s house was big. She was lucky not to have to live in student accommodation, in all honesty. When you sat down on her large sofa, you heard the voices of two adults nearing. You weren’t sure what to think at this point. You and Alisa barely knew each other, and she’d come to your apartment, dragged you out of bed, invited you into her home where her whole family was.

“Alisa, darling? Have you brought a friend over?”

You saw her nod out of the corner of your eye as she made your meal, humming quietly to the tune of the music. There were loud, fast footsteps in the corridor that her parents had exited and looking up, you saw a lanky grey-haired boy with the same stark green eyes as her. He was almost as tall as the ceiling, and when he entered the room he had to duck to get through the threshold. You assumed this was Lev, Alisa’s high school age brother. Volleyball boy. Whatever. He was unimportant, and you were hungry.

“Ah! Lyovochka! Are your teammates here? Do they want food?” she didn’t look up from the kitchen counter as she spoke but Lev nodded, running back to ask his friends if they wanted food. (He never came back to give any sort of answer, though)

“So!” the sudden appearance of Alisa’s mother was unexpected. She was just as pretty as her daughter, but very obviously older. “What’s your name?”

You stuttered, panicking slightly, avoiding any possible eye contact. You looked to Alisa for help, and caught her gaze as she hurried over, sitting next to you. “This is y/n, mom. We met a while ago but i invited her over for lunch today,” she looked at you and patted your thigh, trying to calm you down slightly, “We might go out to the city later, if that’s okay with them.”

Alisa’s mother raised her eyebrows at your unwillingness to speak; maybe she thought you were being rude, but you didn’t have the capacity to worry about that right now. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” You nodded, slightly dizzy from being so overwhelmed but trying to be as polite as possible nonetheless. Alisa’s dad was stood behind the sofa, a large cup of what you assumed to be tea inbetween his hands.

Alisa stood and ushered her parents away, towards the door. “Were you going out?” they nodded, grabbing bags and phones on the way out, “We’ll see you later, then!” Her father tried protesting, but Alisa reassured them that Lev was completely fine while you and her were here.

Once the door was closed, Alisa looked back at you apologetically. “Sorry about them! They can be a little overbearing sometimes.” she gave you a small smile and pulled out two plates. “I think that’s an understatement.” you replied quietly.

She laughed loudly, earning a smile from you. “I’m glad you’re okay now though.” she looked at you, smile instantly gone from her face. “You are okay, right?” You nodded, and she relaxed, serving your food onto the plates and bringing them round to the coffee table you were sat facing. “It might be a little hot. Wait a bit before you try it.”

You picked up your plate and put it onto your lap, the warmth of it heating your legs, as if the heat of the room wasn’t already enough. Your face felt warm and your hands shook slightly as you reached to pick up the food; you were either hungry or nervous. It was probably best to not think about it too much.

Alisa was staring at the TV that was sat on a polished wooden desk by the wall, her eyes mirroring the images from the screen. From the looks of it, she was watching a documentary on animals in the arctic, probably one you’d seen before. You weren’t looking at it, but the narrator’s voice sounded familiar and when you were little you’d watch stuff like that constantly, sometimes the same one over and over again until you got bored of it then moved on to the next one (which you’d also - metaphorically - beat half to death and then abandon)

After your meal, the two of you were still, to your displeasure, sat it silence. Alisa had turned the show off and was now sat reading a book and you were fiddling with your hands, waiting for her to notice you and let you go home (really, you could leave any moment, but you didn’t want to say anything first).

You stood up upon hearing Lev shouting from what you assumed was his room, and Alisa’s head immediately snapped up. She checked the time on the clock above the kitchen counter, and gasped, looking at you apologetically.

“Gosh! Y/n, you should have told me it was so late! I’ll walk you home.”

You shook your head, and the blonde girl in front of you sighed. “Are you sure? It’s getting dark. At least let me call you a taxi, ok?”. You hummed out a noise of approval and she picked up her phone that had been resting precariously on the arm of the sofa.

As she was speaking to the person on the other end of the line, (a series of yeses followed by her address and then your street. You smiled, tapping your chest and then sliding your arms into the sleeves of your jacket. She opened the door for you and the taxi pulled into her drive as you stepped out of the threshold; you waved at her, thanking her for your stay, and then wandered over to the taxi, sitting in your usual seat (behind the driver) and she only closed the door of her home when the car drove off. Your phone buzzed; ‘text me when you get home safe, ok! -Alisa <3’.

The next month was January.

The holiday season had passed without you seeing Alisa once, except for in a corner shop once, where you pretended not to see her but ended up being approached anyways. That time there was a pink coating her porcelain skin (you weren’t sure whether it was makeup, the cold or an actual blush, but you opted for the last one to satisfy yourself somewhat).

You sort of wished that you’d been able to spend the holidays with her, though. Sometimes, you found yourself thinking about her unconsciously. It was weird, but you ignored it. Stuff like that seemed like a lot of effort to you, and you were not notorious for being invested in relationships, platonic or romantic.

You only had one class today, and after that you saw her in the hallways. She’d obviously had a class in the same building of you, and as usual, you pretended not to have seen her. You just kept walking, coffee in hand, eyes on the floor. Again, like the first time you’d really talked, you heard her footsteps approaching and accepted your fate.

“Y/n! Hey!” she kept walking after you; you buried your face into your scarf and tried to get yourself to stop but it felt like your feet were moving on their own. Why were you ignoring her? You liked her, for god’s sake! You barely knew her, you should be using moments like these to get to know her better! What the hell were you doing?

Her hand landed on your shoulder and pulled you back. By now, the pair of you were outside, and your feet were crunching over newly layed snow. It was coming down thickly, you had to squint to see her properly. She looked tired, and her face was pale in comparison to the pink of the tip of her nose and her ears. It was cold, after all, and she didn’t have a scarf of hat or anything. You wanted to lend her yours; that was what people who were close did, wasn’t it? Why did she look so bedraggled anyway?

“Y/n, seriously, stop.”

You frowned, confused. You looked sad? And why would she care anyways? You weren’t close, and you could see her friends looking on from the steps of the building. The snow was catching in her hair and it felt like time had stopped; she really did look unreal. “I didn’t know you cared about me so much, Alisa. We’re not close, and we barely ever talk.”

It looked like she was about to cry. Maybe it was the cold?

“I don’t need a reason to care about you, y/n!” she reached a hand up to rub her eyes, “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy!” she pointed to her friends on the steps, “They know it!” she was shouting now, and the wind seemed to whistle even louder in your ears, “Everyone else seems to know i’m in love with you except you! And i’m sorry if i didn’t make it obvious enough for you.”

At this point your brain was going overdrive to process what she’d just told you. You knew you probably looked stupid just standing there and staring at he but what else could you do? This wasn’t exactly how you’d pictured your evening going, and despite receiving confessions before this one felt different; you felt like your heart was on fire. It burned, and you were out of breath despite standing completely still. Alisa reached out and took your freezing cold hand into her own. She was surprisingly warm, and there were tears dripping off of her chin onto her coat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, you probably never felt the same way. Like you said, right? We barely even know each other.”

You stepped forward (again, it felt like you weren’t in control of your own feet) and with the hand Alisa wasn’t holding, cupped her cold cheek. She looked back at you and you could see her friends out of the corner of your eyes chewing the inside of their cheeks. It was embarrassing to say the least, but necessary. Alisa sniffed, and you looked back down at the ground, shaking your head. “No that’s not what i..” you tried to make your voice louder, “I just didn’t expect you to also feel like that.”

She laughed (it was probably the most beautiful noise you’d ever had the pleasure of hearing) and leaned in so that your foreheads were touching, her pretty smile still adorning her lips. “I’m glad,” she whispered, and the burning of your cheeks felt like a blazing fire across your face.

“Call me later, ok?” you nodded as she moved her face away, hand leaving yours reluctantly. “We can go out sometime. If it’s uhh.. okay with you, of course.” You giggled, and Alisa waved, her friends running after her (also giggling and patting Alisa’s head in what looked like celebration). It had stopped snowing, and the sun was shining through the clouds in a golden evening glow, lighting up the city marvellously. You decided to walk home today.

tags; @chqrryvelvet @wissbby

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alitaimagines · 4 years ago

Text

“the stars shining right above you. the night breezes seem to you whisper I love you. birds singing in the sycamore, dream a little dream of me.”

PORCO GALLIARD ☆ ATTACK ON TITAN

☆ previous imagine: ♡ ☆ masterlists: ♡ ♡

☆ note: when season four drops, remember who fed yall bc I know you bitches finna be SIMPIN over my mans.

“marry me,” Porco whispered in your ear, “marry me right here, right now. what’s stopping us?” he asked you as he stared into your eyes intensely.

your eyes widened at the sudden question, “Porco, baby, what are you on about? what brought this on?” you responded trying to get him as clear headed as possible.

Porco stood up from bed as you covered up your body with his blanket. he had that crazy look in his eye and you knew whenever Porco got this way, he wouldn’t drop it, at least not for a while.

“because we can!” he exclaimed making you look at the blond with even more excitedly, “Porco, you’re not making any sense,” you tried to rationalize, “we need to think this through. we can’t just get married. that would be very stupid of us,” you told him.

the two of you stared at each other not knowing what to say to each other. Porco grabbed your hand softly and held it up to where his heart was. Porco was never this soft with you unless he had done something he wasn’t supposed to do and knew you were going to get mad at him.

“hear me out. I have a promise ring in my cabinet as we speak. I know it isn’t an engagement ring but we’re fucking college students so cut me a break. I love you and you love me so why not just do it?”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his wild proposition. the two of you had been dating each other since your junior year of high school and although you both were college juniors now, the idea of marriage, especially so suddenly, caught you off guard.

“I mean, what about your parents? and mine! if they find out we up and got married so quickly, they’re going to physically kill us. we won’t even make it to our honeymoon!”

Porco was caught with his tail between his legs for a moment. he had never thought of that before and he knew that if his mom was not present for his sons marriage, she probably would actually kill him. that is if Marcel didn’t kill him first.

“they’ll get over it. you’ve never doubted me before and you shouldn’t stop now.”

you grasped Porco’s hand and gave him a faint smile, “okay, lets do it. we need a witness and there’s not many people just willing to do that for us,” you reminded him as the two of you got dressed quickly.

Porco waved that thought off immediately. he knew the one person who he had complete trust in and wouldn’t question him about it either.

you both ran out of the dorm room as he told you to follow him up to the girls level of the residential building. you were sporting one of Porco’s band t-shirts and biker shorts which you knew you would get berated for later.

the two of you landed at Pieck’s door. you knew that was Porco’s best friend and once you got together with Porco, you both eventually grew close with each other.

“Pieck, don’t ask questions, we just need you to come with us,” Porco exclaimed making Pieck become frazzled, “wait, what? I’m not leaving until I at least get a vague answer to wherever it is you’re dragging me too,” she replied remaining at the door.

“we’re going to court house to get married. our appointment is like in twenty minutes! are you coming or not?” Porco screamed as Pieck stared even more frazzled than before, “well, are you coming or not? we gotta go and you’re our witness!” you exclaimed as she grabbed her shoes off the shoe rack and quickly slipped them on.

“you both are a bunch of fucking idiots.”

you were sitting with Marcel at lunch. both of you were swapping Organic Chem notes and trying to study. you were a year younger than Marcel but you had taken up advanced classes and befriended him. you knew that he had a brother in your grade but you had yet to meet him.

“if our teacher doesn’t kill us, do it for me?” you asked making him laugh, “i can’t do that. I want to graduate this year and you need to make it to your senor year,” he replied making you playfully roll your eyes.

you stayed looking down at your notes, not bothering to pay attention to your surroundings until you heard Marcel talking to someone. you took off your headphones to see who he was talking too and to your surprise, he was very attractive.

“oh, ( your name ), this is my brother Porco,” he introduced, “Porco, this is ( your name ), the other pain in my ass,” you gave him a pout as Porco bent over the table to shake your hand.

now that you put the name to face, you had saw Porco around school a few times. he was the quarterback of the school and saw him on multiple occasions fighting with the blond kicker of his team. his anger was one rumor that surrounded him.

“well, if you want to be with your brother, I’ll see you tomorrow?” you asked Marcel, “I have to stop at my locker and I wouldn’t want to intrude any longer,” you said packing up your laptop and shoving it inside of your book bag.

Marcel shook his head, “you’re not intruding. he just needed to get our car keys but if you need to leave, I’ll just see you tomorrow in chem,” you nodded waving the brothers off.

what Marcel and you had failed to see was that you dropped one of you keychains on the ground. it was a small anime keychain but if you were anything like his brother, you probably wanted it back.

not only that but Porco didn’t know his brother was friends with someone so cute. he had seen you a few times around school. mostly with the clubs you were involved in and other times talking with your friends by your locker. nevertheless, giving back your keychain was another reason to talk to you again. this time without his brother.

the following morning, you were sitting in cafeteria. you had opening in your schedule that gave you time to finish up homework or eat a quick breakfast before your next period.

Porco watched you type away on your computer and check your phone every so often. he watched you laugh at whatever it was you were viewing and to be honest, your smile was beyond cute. Porco also wanted to be another reason why you smiled the way you just were.

finally, after feeling like he was coming off as extremely creepy, he walked up to you and stood in front of you. you looked up from your laptop and perked up when you saw who was.

“oh, good morning Porco!” you exclaimed taking off your headphones, “are you looking for Marcel?” for what felt like the first time in his years of living, he was struck silent.

you stared at him in confusion. he still hadn’t said anything to you and it took until you clapped your hands in front of his face to get him pulled back into reality.

“oh sorry,” he murmured as you gave him a smile to dismiss his odd behavior, “you dropped this yesterday when you left. figured you’d probably want it back or something,” he said.

you couldn’t help but laugh, “oh yeah, I saw that it went missing when I got home but I thought that someone probably threw it away and took out the second spare I had,” you explained before showing him the same keychain you had attached to your bad.

Porco wondered why you even got a spare keychain, “anyway, you could throw it out or keep it, up to you! but I don’t take you as the kind of person to watch anime so if you want, you could give it to Marcel,” you offered.

you watched Porco once again lose his composure but this time, he regained it before you could clap in his face again. he chucked his bag over his shoulder and attached it next the pin with his football number on it.

you had been seeing Porco on and off since he started taking an interest in you. he would ask you to get a smoothie or join him and Marcel for a Saturday day out. little things here and there made you realize that he was starting to like you and you could say the same.

Porco was playing a game that literally depended on his future. this game was the make it or break it scenario. if he managed to win it, he was getting a contract from his dream school and if he didn’t, community college it was.

Porco partially wanted to win the game for two reasons.

one: he wanted a good college on his resume and two: his dream school was also the school you were attending. you had gotten accepted earlier in the year along with the other juniors who were at the top of the graduating class and if he managed to get the contract with the school, it would be the cherry on top of it all.

you were talking with Pieck about a few things concerning the student council when Porco approached the both of you. he was wearing his football jersey as it was mandatory that all players wore them day of.

“can I steal her for a second?” Porco asked Pieck as she nodded as tapped her best friends shoulder. she had known what he was going to do and whispered a good luck before finding another one of her friends to walk to class with.

Porco took you to a small secluded corner of the hallway and fished into his book bag before taking out the away jersey. you stared at the blond in confusion.

“wear this for the rest of the day,” Porco asked quietly, “Pieck said you were going to the game and I wanted you to wear it,” you saw the small blush spreading across his face before quietly accepting it.

being that it was late October, you had been wearing a black long sleeve shirt and just chucked the jersey over it. the moment Porco seen it on you, he realized he never wanted you to take it off.

“make sure you wear it to the game,” he whispered in your ear before giving you a quick kiss and running off, “I’ll see you after school!” you yelled, trying your hardest to hide the warm feeling coming across your face.

the night came in as you, Pieck, and Marcel had front row seats to watch the game. you were a bundle of bubbling nerves as you watched Porco and the rest of the team run out of the tunnel.

you gave Porco a small wave which caused a few taunts from Pieck and Marcel. they were surprised to see you wearing Porco’s jersey as it wasn’t really knowledge to anyone in the school that Porco was seeing you.

if you were being honest, you hated football. it wasn’t your cup of tea and frankly, you found it boring but considering you were seeing Porco and he asked you to wear his jersey, you knew you had to put up with it. at least for the time being.

the game continued as the score was neck and neck. you were biting down on your fingernails from nervousness as you looked up to the digital board. there was only a few minutes left in the game and your school at the ball.

you had no idea what Porco or the rest of the team was planning on doing to give themselves the upper hand but before you could continue to question it, you saw Porco get the ball and try to do a hail Mary across the field.

you instantly shot up from your seat as Marcel and Pieck did the same. you felt your voice instantly get shot from how loud you screamed when Porco managed to deflect all of the players and score.

Marcel and Pieck hugged you as you tried to contain your tears. with a few seconds left in the game, Reiner made the final point before the whistle blew and the game was over.

you jumped over the fence and ran to find Porco in the sea of men. he saw you looking for him and grabbed your wrist before lifting you up and putting you on his waist before kissing you.

“I did it! I fucking did it!” he yelled as you nodded, “I know! I’m so proud of you, Porco. Pieck and Marcel are proud of you too! we knew you could do it!” you replied as he laughed to try and contain his own emotions.

“God, I’m glad you’re here to celebrate this with me.”

you nodded as you gave Porco a kiss which sealed the start of your relationship with Porco.

as soon as all of you got out of the car, you stared at Porco with a nervous smile. Pieck although she was lecturing the two of you the entire car ride to the court house, you could see the excitement written on her face.

the three of you walked up the long stairs until you reached the marriage and divorce floor. you couldn’t help but wonder why they would put the marriage and divorce offices in the same level.

the court room that they had sent the two of you to was at the end of the hallway. you could see the officiant standing in front of the wooden stand and fixing his papers.

“can you give us a few minutes?” Porco asked Pieck as she nodded. she squeezed your shoulder before walking inside of the court room.

you and Porco stared at each other as he grabbed your hand again, “are you sure you want to go through this? I know this is very sudden and I kind of pressure you into it but I want you to know that you can back out of this. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with,” he reminded you.

you got on your toes and kissed him softly, “I know I was very hesitant at first but I mean, us getting married this way is just very us, you know? the lectures that we’re about to get from our family is a given but I want to do this if you want too,” you replied as Porco nodded.

Porco gave you another give before taking your hand and walking inside of the room. Pieck gave you an excited smile as the officiant made you and Porco stand across from each other while Pieck stood on the side.

after the officiant read off the boring legal stuff, Porco reached into his worn out brown leather jacket and took out the bands. Pieck the moment she saw them felt as though she could choke Porco out for having that be your wedding ring. she knew it wasn’t the time or place to point it out but she was going to smack Porco for it later.

“now, repeat after me, Porco Galliard. do you take ( your name ) to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death does you apart?”

“I do.”

“and ( your name ), do you take Porco Galliard as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death does you apart?”

“I do.”

the officiant made you exchange rings before looking back at the two of you and smiled, “Porco and ( your name ), I now pronounce you Mr and Mrs.Galliard,” he said as you smiled.

Porco immediately kissed you. he held you with such tightness that it made it seem as though you were going to disappear. once you pulled apart, you saw Pieck signing her name on the witness line on the wedding certificate before she enveloped the both of you into a hug.

“I love you,” Porco whispered in your ear, “I love you too, you big fucking clown,” you joked before giving him a quick kiss.

“so, who do we tell first? your brother and then your parents or my parents and then your brother?” you asked making Porco sigh in a sudden wave of nervousness, “how about we leave that until tomorrow. tonight, I want to make sure I show you how much I love you,” Porco replied.

you couldn’t help but laugh, “we just got married, Porco! I don’t know how else you show me?” you questioned.

“oh, don’t worry about that doll. just now the night isn’t even remotely over.”

ALITA

#attack on titan #Attack on Titan Imagine #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #aot #aot imagine #aot x reader #snk #snk imagine #snk x reader #porco galliard #porco galliard imagine #porco galliard x reader #anime imagine #anime x reader #anime x you #anime

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