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uglypastels · 4 years ago

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Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent.

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course).

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall.

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots?

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake.

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms.

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way.

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them.

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet.

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again?

T- something starting with a T.

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside.

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving.

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water.

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast.

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy.

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.”

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was.

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement.

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures.

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party.

So he was a frat boy.

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better.

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop.

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger.

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile.

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression.

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned.

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case.

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges.

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class.

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls.

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least.

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night.

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover.

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time.

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame.

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning.

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name.

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it.

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed.

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it.

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there.

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side.

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued.

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear.

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger.

Crumbling…

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned.

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her.

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her. She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture.

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack.

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture.

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider.

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door.

Tom sank back down into his seat.

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up.

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.”

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.”

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room.

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it.

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class.

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then.

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over.

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said.

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n.

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group.

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison.

“So, Holland, you’re in?”

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time.

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself.

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone.

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger.

“Angela Pikowski.”

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit?

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone.

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread.

It did not matter.

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was.

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway.

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light.

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her.

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater.

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets.

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right?

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough.

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it.

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness.

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing.

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much.

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game.

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life.

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway.

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place.

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year.

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa.

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa.

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else.

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party.

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind.

Property of: y/f/n

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts.

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account.

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos.

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else.

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows.

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second.

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it.

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you.

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom!

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep.

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures.

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed.

He scrolled down.

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played.

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people.

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies.

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking.

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed.

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink.

He accidentally liked her oldest picture.

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable.

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep.

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours.

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram?

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it.

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony.

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that?

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account.

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course.

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious.

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies.

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past.

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite.

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good.

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture.

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period.

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on.

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground.

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak.

What’s done was done.

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired.

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet?

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation!

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet.

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in. For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day.

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments. He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji.

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple-

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him?

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply.

(y/n)

Hey :)

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing.

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction.

(y/n)

No not really

Quickly change the subject.

So what are you up to?

Good enough subject?

(tomholland2013)

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night.

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class.

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n)

Tess?

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup? It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again.

Wanna see?

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee.

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that.

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on.

Of course, it was a dog.

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything.

(y/n)

Omg 💀

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered What? Did you think I meant something else?

Embarrassment kicked in anyway.

(y/n)

No... lol

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n)

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013)

Cause she gets to be here with me?

(y/n)

No I meant it like She’s so cute I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax I was just messing with you But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n)

Maybe another time

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013)

What’s on the menu?

(y/n)

Probably spicy ramen?

(tomholland2013)

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself?

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway.

(y/n)

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw

(tomholland2013)

You make it sound like i am personally responsible

(y/n)

Well your the only guy from DK i know so you’re** 💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree

(tomholland2013)

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

_________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop?

He started to type again.

(tomholland2013)

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over.

(y/n)

I’m good thanks.

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes.

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment.

(y/n)

Maybe another time ttyl?

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer.

(tomholland2013)

Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day.

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-”

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door.

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either.

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away.

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?”

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order.

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball.

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed.

_________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in.

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen.

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking.

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.”

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.”

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do.

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement.

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up.

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself.

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer.

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.”

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder.

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.”

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.”

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it.

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes.

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no.

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.”

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly.

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he?

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone.

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again.

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder.

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks.

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave.

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you.

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse.

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she?

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid.

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her.

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant.

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow?

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once.

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend?

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out.

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily.

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture.

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :)

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut.

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later?

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages.

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it.

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished.

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class.

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her.

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face.

“Hey,” you replied.

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft.

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.”

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head.

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully.

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?”

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to.

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips.

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-”

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.”

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course.

_________________________________

“Who was that?”

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had.

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend.

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.”

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter.

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.”

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in.

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-”

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed.

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.”

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?”

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked.

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said.

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well.

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.”

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way.

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors.

_________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself.

(your account)

Hey Sorry I ran away like that And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that. Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account)

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then

_________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple,

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it.

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to.

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him.

Was y/n scared? Of what?

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass?

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it.

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered.

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line.

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it.

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body.

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed.

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter.

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination.

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite.

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54.

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.”

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room.

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her.

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?”

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.”

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?”

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly.

_________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?”

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked.

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder.

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed.

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for!

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu.

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly.

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language).

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand.

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that.

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you.

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said.

“With cinnamon!” you added.

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off.

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged.

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale.

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.”

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed.

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?”

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you.

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-”

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom.

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks.

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick.

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable?

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied.

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.”

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed.

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.”

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.”

You both laughed.

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay.

How you hoped it was.

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open.

“Wait, really?”

_________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head.

No, it wasn’t possible.

“How has no one- nooo,”

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them.

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate.

“So, you’d want to kiss me?”

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them.

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly.

“In your dreams, Holland.”

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour.

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well.

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for.

“You already did.”

_________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing.

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.”

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second.

“At least… top ten.”

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.”

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion.

“That just moved you down to number six.”

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times.

Finally, you sat up again.

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now.

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed.

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile.

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?”

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather.

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.”

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle.

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge.

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted.

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand.

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.”

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you.

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again.

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything.

“If you wanted to kiss me.”

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real.

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right.

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze.

Tom chuckled.

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss.

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer.

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @spiderrrling @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog @musicalkeys @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #frat!au #fratboy tom #college!tom #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #stranger to lovers #college!au

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bagadew · 3 years ago

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The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Case of the Unbreakable Speckled Band (Part 2b)

Last Time: It turned out that my man Hosonaga hadn’t been kidding when he said he’d lay his life on the line for us, and was beaten up by the killer captain for letting us have a look around first class. As if that wasn’t enough, he then stood before us looking like the Knights of Ni, and gave us Kazuma’s autopsy report, revealing that Kazuma died of a broken neck. Now I (Ryunosuke) get ready to inveterate, and I (Eleanor) get ready to take the captain out!

OVER MY DEAD BODY YOU WILL!

So it shall be.

Susato’s pointing out that it might be a while before we’re all back in Japan, to which I say: It will happen, I can wait

Now on with the actual investigation.

Out in the corridor Biff Strogenov the 1 ton sailor has finally left his post, meaning that we’re free to look for cute animals investigate my beloved Kazuma’s death in cabin number 2!

Wait, that voice? Could it be? Has he returned to us?

Yeah boy!

Oh... he’s not in our immediate vicinity and we actually do have to go in cabin number 2, so I guess we’ll see him again later!

THE CASE OPEN!!! THE PET!!! GONE!!!

Ok game, I get it! I have to remember why we’re really here and not get immediately sidetracked by the faintest wiff of an animal.

Wait...... does she finally believe in us?

WHOO LETS GO TEAM!!!

Right we’ve got a saucer on the floor, meaning that whatever Nikolina keeps as a pet eats off of it. This seems to make my snake theory less likely, but it does back up the idea that the ‘speckled band’ Kazuma saw could have been the tail of something like a tabby cat.

The books in the bookshelf have toppled over, just like they had in Kazuma’s cabin. I wonder if the ship made an emergency stop to let Nikolina onboard and that’s why they were all thrown to the left?

Again Susato, I’m pretty sure Strogenov realised Nikolina had a pet with her the second he helped her on the ship and saw her suitcase wiggling.

Everybody comes for Ryunosuke...

Hang about... the bolt pulls to the left, the same direction the books fell in!

If someone new Nikolina was coming on board (*cough*The Captain*cough*) they could have killed Kazuma and left the door unbolted, safe in the knowledge that when the ship stopped the bolt would slide into place!

(This is how I felt when Kazuma bought up Curare in the last trial.)

Ok, due to my being a bad influence on Susato, she gave the cabin bell pull a good tug, but fortunately it seems that none of them work (which is very odd).

Finaly both the teapot and bin are empty, which could mean anything or nothing at all, you never can tell with Ace Attorney.

Other than that, I think that’s it for the cabin. I was expecting to be interrupted or something, but I’m pretty sure I’ve looked at everything. Now let’s go into the corridor and see if there are any Himbo Detectives knocking about out there!

Hell yeah!

I agree Ryunosuke, the man’s a glorious Jack in the Box!

Go an tap his back Ryousuke, I want to see if he jumps!

Come on everybody, clap along!

TAP HIM RYUNOSUKE!!!

HE FELL OVER!!!

(Editor’s Note: AND I MISSED SCREENSHOTTING IT!)

So tell me Susato, hows that image of the Great Detective holding up?

Because mine’s doing great!

Looks like Herlock’s been looking at the Ships log, and he’s picked up on the fact that it’s practically blank from 2am onwards, which interestingly is just after the time Kazuma’s diary says he was killed. I’d also imagine this is when Nikolina arrived onboard.

Also Ryunosuk actually payed Herlock a complement!

Something’s happening? What’s happening???

HE WAS DRUGGED TO!!!

(Though I don’t know why I’m surprised. I already guessed the rest of the ship was drugged so they wouldn’t see Nikolina while she was being smuggled onboard)

Has Susato realised too?

And off he goes! Singing all the way!

What a wonderous man you are Herlock

I think she’s worked it out!

As expected of the daughter of the Professor of Pathology!

You know I don’t know if I’ve ever really taken the time to appreciate the level of detail Ace Attorney has sometimes. Like this is exactly how I’d describe the sort of headache you get after being knocked out by drugs.

Susato’s left it for now, and I can’t work out if she’s already worked it out, or if she’s still puzzling it out. Either way, I think she’s got this.

(Ok, I’ve clearly missed something here...)

Or no, I haven’t!

The alarm’s going off!!!

ANOTHER SHIP!?!

DAMN NIKOLINA THE BALET COMPANY ARE SERIOUS HUH!??!

(Clinging to each other Susato and I (Ryunosuke) managed to not die when the ship crashed to a halt.)

Now’s the time to see if the bolts slide closed though!

YES YES!!! LOOK IT’S SHUT!!!

LOCKED ROOM MYSTERY SOLVED BABY!!!

HERLOCK SHOLMES EAT YOUR HEART OUT!!! THERE’S A NEW GREATEST DETECTIVE IN TOWN!!!

(I’m talking about me, not Batman)

Shit! We’ve been rumbled!

HOSONAGA!!!

Hosonaga cares for us so much

I care for you to Hosonaga!

(Honestly I’m surprised the sound of me lowering a crown onto my own head didn’t somehow reach the game world.)

Yeah Naruhodo-san, let Hosonaga in so I can show him my unbearably smug face!

That’s not a very nice way to talk about Hosonaga Ryousuke!

(Sorry I couldn’t resist that joke)

So we have indeed been rumbled lads, and with at least one more part of this case to go it’s not going to be plain sailing

(I’ll see myself out...)

#tgaa #tgaa spoilers #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the unbreakable speckled band #ryunosuke naruhodo #susato mikotoba #satoru hosonaga #kazuma asougi #(I am still trying to avenge your death Kazuma)

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mindninjax · 4 years ago

Text

As Long as You’re Mine

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: language(as always for blasty boi), angst, a bit of suggestive content if you squint.

a/n: This is the second part to a fic I wrote last week I think it was anywhooo you can read that one here! My first song fic whoo hoo! I hope y’all enjoy it and please jam out with reader- chan to this bomb ass cover because DAMN it’s so good. *EDIT*: Some have told me that the video wasn’t working SO click the title below to listen to the song associated! Thanks babes! BOLD is a Flashback

Bad Romance by Halestorm

“Because I needed to see you, (y/n).”

Katsuki is staring intently at you as if he’s trying to read your mind or at least figure out how you will react to his statement.

“Why? And don’t say to sing in your stupid band.” you say not breaking eye contact.

“I.. I just.. “ he fumbles his words and he looks as if he’s trying to solve a really hard math problem. You give him a few minutes and wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you sigh and turn towards the door again.

“Look Katsuki, I need to get home before Pumpkin possibly burns down the house.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

You turn and look at him incredulously. Did he really just say that? And what the hell does he mean, again? “ W-what are you talking about Kacchan?’ you say in disbelief.

Katsuki lets out an annoyed huff of air “All you ever cared about was Deku! You always took his side, shielded him, smiled at him! But you never looked at me like that and you said we were friends! YOU were the one that was supposed to get into UA with me! Not that shitty Deku! How could he? He was useless and he didn’t even have a quirk! How could someone like him have gotten into UA? You were so much stronger than him! Not to mention, you ALWAYS protected him.It pissed me off. He hid behind you for so long and you were so strong and you worked so hard. And no matter what I did or said to make you see how weak he was, you never stopped protecting him!” he finished in a rush.

“So you were upset that I was protecting him? That I was sticking up for my friend because you couldn’t stop being an asshole to him?” You say, anger slowly rising in you again.

“No, dammit! It’s just…” he sighs deeply. “When I heard that you weren’t going to be participating in the entrance exam and Deku was, I kind of lost it.”

“Clearly.” You say remembering that day.

________________________________________________________________

“If you thought I wasn’t going to notice that cheap shot you threw towards the end, then you’ll need to keep practicing way late into the night, idiot!” Katsuki said, walking next to you.

“Oh shut your dumb face Kacchan. I caught you off guard and you know it. You were just a tiny bit faster than I was, that’s all!” You said punching his shoulder playfully.

You and Katsuki had been spending a lot of time together since Deku had been off training for the entrance exam. You two were training together frequently and he had been pleasant, even friendly, towards you. You two were able to train, share your interests, and spend evenings talking about the type of heroes you wanted to be, your costume designs, and what your future agencies would look like when you became pros. You were able to witness how dedicated he was to getting into UA and he was able to help you train as well. Katsuki wouldn’t dare mention it out loud, but he enjoyed the time he spent with you and he hoped if there were to be anyone from his middle school to get into UA with him, it would be you.

On your way home from your last training session before the entrance exam, you ran into your family doctor who was leaving your house. “Ahh Y/n, there’s something I would like to discuss with you… in private “ he said, giving Katsuki a nervous glance. He had walked you home after being forced by his mom to do so.

“Umm sure thing. Thanks for walking with me, Kacchan. I’ll see you tomorrow!” you said waving him off as you approached the doctor.

“Tch, not like I wanted to but whatever. Don’t be late to the exam tomorrow, Pinky.” he said, turning to walk back home. You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname and focused on the doctor.

A few blocks down the street he checked to see if you had gone in yet. Instead, he saw you with your face in your hands as the doctor put a hand on your shoulder to console you. Katsuki wanted to go to you but he continued home, head down, avoiding the scene.

The next day, you met Katsuki at your usual spot but you weren’t dressed in your training clothes. You looked exhausted.

“Damn, you look like shit Pinky. Did you actually stay up all night perfecting your cheap shot?” He said in a playfully harsh tone.

“I’m not going Kacchan.” you said seriously.

“What the hell are you talking about, (y/n)?”

“I have different responsibilities now. Things have changed and I can’t… I can’t afford to sit and dream with you anymore. What if I don't get in? It’s too risky. I’m just going to go to the local high school and work in my family’s shop. They.. they need me.” you said in a rush holding back tears and refusing to look at him.

Katsuki grabbed both of your shoulders and dug his fingers into your skin. “You can’t be serious. After all that training you did, you’re just going to GIVE UP?!? What, because you think you may not get in?? Well shit (y/n), I didn’t take you to be such a fucking WEAKLING! I thought you were different from all the others but I guess I was wrong! You know you’re even worse than that useless Deku! At least he thought he had a chance! But you?!?! You’re just pathetic!”

He pushed you away from him, looking disgusted and walked toward the school. He heard you sobbing on the ground behind him. He hesitated for just a moment before continuing on towards the school and leaving you with his harsh words.

________________________________________________________________

“I didn’t know about what happened to your mom until the middle of the semester when I overheard Deku talking to Uraraka about how he was going to visit you.” he continued.

The doctor had come to tell you that day that your mother had suffered from a stroke and she wouldn’t be able to move on her own anymore. The medical expenses were going to increase immensely and with your father no longer in the picture, you had no idea how you were going to afford everything. So you stepped up, took over the family business, took care of your mother at home and raised Pumpkin, your 6 year old sister, yourself. The first few months had been hard, but once you got into the groove of everything, it had become a bit easier. It was true that you had given up your dream of being a hero to take care of your family but you never regretted it. However, Katsuki’s words had always been in the back of your mind and sometimes the shame would creep back in.

You look him in the eyes now, something you wouldn’t do back then, and he sees all your sadness and strength. He momentarily gets lost in your eyes and curses himself for ever making you cry like that.

“(Y/n) look, I was a dumb ass alright? I was a stupid dumb ass and I should’ve never called you weak. What you did was the farthest thing from weak. Not even All Might gave up his dream of being a hero to help his family. I just… didn’t want to… I don’t know… become a hero without you.” He mumbles the last sentence and you have to strain to make sure you heard him correctly.

“I’m sorry it took me three and half years to tell you that. “ he says crossing his arms and turning away from you. You see him blush before he hides his face completely and you smile to yourself. Pft, only he would be embarrassed for apologizing. You think to yourself.

“Kacchan-”

You’re cut off by a sudden knock at the door. Katsuki rushes to tell off whoever has the nerve to interrupt you two.

“Hey! Are you guys going on or not?!?! There are two more bands that need to play before you! Either you get a singer or you pay me the money you owe me for the gig!” the club owner yells from the other side.

“They’ve got a singer!” you yell back and Katsuki looks at you stunned.

“Oh don’t give me that look. You didn’t honestly think I wasn’t going to help you out, right? You should know me better than that, Kacchan.” you say, opening the door and winking at him.

Soon you and the rest of his band mates are discussing the plan. You find out, to your secret amusement, that Katsuki is in charge of the set-list and he chose all the songs on the set-list that you two practiced when you took music lessons together.

“Still can’t believe you took music lessons dude AND you got to take them with this cutie? I’m totally jealous.” Kaminari says as Momo hands you some clothes to change into.

Apparently, your bright pink sweatshirt and jeans weren’t “cool enough” for the crowd. Momo helps you with your make up and then you change into the clothes she gave you. You’re wearing a black vest that buttons over your cleavage and stops right above your belly button, fishnet tights, and low rise tight black skinny jeans littered with huge holes.

When you come out of the dressing room everyone is speechless. You watch Katsuki study you as his eyes linger on your exposed cleavage and fishnetted thighs. You blush as his red eyes snake up your body to your face. His gaze slides over your plump lips and finally ends on your eyes. You don’t miss the way he licks his lips and turns away quickly.

“Damn, your body is bangin’ to-OUCH” Kaminari says as both Momo and Katsuki slap the back of his head.

“I-uhh don’t usually wear stuff like this.” You say nervously.

“Ok so I think we should figure out what song you’re going to play tonight. (Y/n) you should choose. Whichever one you’re most comfortable with is what they’ll play.” Kirishima says, handing you the set list and trying to change the subject.

You review it quickly. You know all of the songs obviously but there’s one that sticks out. You think about the lyrics and how you used to love singing this one with Katsuki during the lessons. “Let’s do this one.” You say finally. Everyone agrees and leaves to prep their instruments. You’re up next.

The band on stage finishes their last note and the crowd goes wild. You don’t realize how nervous you are until you’re about to walk on stage. Katsuki’s eyes never leave you and you feel him staring into your back. You didn’t usually have stage fright but tonight your feelings are all over. Was it because of the song you chose or your talk with Katsuki earlier? You swallow the lump in your throat as you hear the club owner announce the band and you all walk out on stage.

You look into the crowd, most of the faces are confused. You hear a girl yell “WHO’S THAT? WHERE’S KYOKA?!” and a guy yell “ AT LEAST SHE’S HOT!” You stand in front of the mic and take a deep breath. Kaminari starts the song and you glance back at Katsuki. He’s looking right at you and gives you a small nod. You know exactly what he’s saying without him having to say it. You’ve fucking got this.

You close your eyes and start to sing softly:

I want your ugly

I want your disease

I want your everything

As long as it's free

I want your love

love love love

I want your love...

You open your eyes to look at the crowd. They look… unimpressed, but some are bobbing their heads at the recognition of the familiar tune. Others are looking down at their phones or talking to their friends in the crowd. You stir nervously and glance over to Kaminari who’s staring at you intensely. He looks at the crowd and then back to you with a look of determination and you understand. Show them what you’ve got.

I want your love and

I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

I want your love and

All your lovers' revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

You take a deep breath in, thinking of all the hard work you’ve done for your family, what Katsuki said to you 3 years ago, your determination and drive to train to be a hero and then exhale. All you hear in your head now is Katsuki’s voice. “I just.. didn’t want to become a hero without you.”

Oh oh oh oh ooh oh oh oh ooh oh oh oh!

Caught in a bad romance

Oh oh oh oh ooh oh oh oh ooh oh oh oh!

Caught in a bad romance

You belt out the lyrics in your high soprano voice and you see the crowd and your band mates’ shocked looks. Your voice is clear and strong and beautiful as it echoes through the entire club. No longer is anyone looking at their phone or their friends. All eyes are on you now. You take advantage of the slight music break to glance back at Katsuki and you see him smiling the cockiest smile you’ve ever seen. Your heart is pumping from the adrenaline of performing and you decide to give everyone a show.

You continue the song strutting across the stage, demanding the attention of the crowd and even playfully flirting with Kaminari and Momo. You wink and blow cheeky kisses at the guys in the front row and you bend down to sing and hold hands with the girls. Even the girl who previously asked about Kyoka is reaching her hand up to touch yours. The crowd is going wild singing along and chanting “Pinky”. You roll your eyes as you remember that you had always hated that dumb nickname that Katsuki gave you.

I want your love and

I want your revenge

I want your love

I don't wanna be friends

You’re looking at Katsuki now. He’s focused on his part trying to keep up with Kaminari and your voice, but all you focus on is him. He feels you staring and looks up at you. You want him to know that you’re singing straight to him. You want him to listen to the lyrics and know.

Je veux ton amour

Et je veux ta revanche

Je veux ton amour

I don’t wanna be friends

You sing the lyrics in French in a sultry voice as if you were a siren trying to trap him with your song.

I don't wanna be friends

No, I don't wanna be friends!

Want your bad romance!

You no longer care about if he reciprocates your feelings or not. Right now, you just want him to know. You don’t want to be friends. You want to be MORE.

I want your love and

I want your revenge

You and me could write a bad romance (Oh oh oh oh ooh)

I want your love and

All your lovers' revenge

You and me could write a bad romance

Oh oh oh oh ooh oh oh oh ooh oh oh!

Caught in a bad romance!

You finish up the song on a strong note and the crowd goes manic. Everyone is screaming your nickname and Kaminari is hyping them up screaming “WASN’T SHE GREAT?!?”

Katsuki, Momo and Tokoyami come up to the front of the stage to take a bow and exit. In your rush of adrenaline you run over to Katsuki, jump into his arms and plant a kiss onto his surprised lips. He widens his eyes for a second and then deepens the kiss. You wrap your legs around him and scratch your fingers through his undercut. He scoops his arms under your butt to pull you closer and his hands grope your butt desperately. He kisses you like a homeless man who hasn’t had a meal in years. You open your mouth and welcome his warm tongue.

For a second the club is silent and you forget about everyone in the room. All you’re focused on is Katsuki's warm touch, his strong arms wrapped around you, his sweet but clean scent, and the fact that you’ve finally done what you’ve been craving to do since you became friends.

He breaks the kiss and sets you down. The crowd goes wilder than they ever have. You look at him sheepishly but he looks at you with the biggest shit eating grin he can muster.

“I may need Jirou to get sick more often.” He says as he intertwines his fingers with yours and exits the stage.

*******************************************************************************************

taglist: @lookslikeleese @rat-suki @red-riot-girl642 @maximit3 @enjifuckersupreme @yukiimanic @bakatenshii @sanguinekeigo @pomsuki @theygottheircages @catsonthebeachfics @blahkugo @saratour @official-jadejewels @lil-yass @unknown-jpg @zahrashallucinations @baku-no-alt @androgynouscollectionpenguin

means I couldn’t tag. Sorry! 😞

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha black writer #bnha songfic #WOOOOWWWWW #I'VE DONE IT #IT'S OUT #THIS TOOK A LOT OUT OF ME #WOOOOWWWW #I HOPE YALL ENJOY!!#ALSO I WAS NOT KIDDING THIS COVER IS SO SO SO SO GOOD!#ugh I can't take it!#anywho #Thanks for everyone who looked forward to it!#here ya go!#also i'm sooooo sorry if i missed a tag #Marquie writes #Bad Romance #halestorm

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

52 Project #38: All We Wanna Do Is Eat Your Brains

Like “No Lullaby” at number 19 and “The Lake” at number 20, this is a songfic. Unlike those, the song itself -- Jonathan Coulton’s “Re: Your Brains” -- is comedic, so this is a comedy wrapped up in the skin of a horror story. Trigger warning for zombies, but no speaking characters get killed by zombies in this story.

-----

The fifth floor of the six-story Peaceful Pines Towne Centre shopping mall was entirely occupied by the business offices of the real estate company that owned and managed it, and many other similar shopping malls.

It was divided into two halves, the west side and the east side, with elevators in the center, and locked, heavy wooden doors between the two sides. At one point both of those doors had been unlocked. On the west side, there had been attractive, frosted glass doors leading to the reception area; those had been smashed. On the east side, there were security doors painted the same color as the wall. Those were locked, but could normally be opened with company badges. The system that allowed the badge locks to work had been unplugged, and the badge lock itself had been disconnected from the inside.

Once upon a time, the salespeople and the financial analysts and the C suite had all had offices or cubicles on the west side, and the IT people, engineers, and facilities management had all had offices or cubicles on the east side. HR had been on the west side, but right near the doors; all the people from that department were all on the east side now.

The bathrooms were in the hallway; the break room was on the west side, with the coffee machine, refrigerator and water cooler. On the east side there was nothing to support human life except air, the water cooler replacement jugs, and several packages of granola bars that one of the engineers had stashed in her desk.

The security cameras still worked, so it was quite possible to see, if you were looking at the monitor screens, a disheveled, pudgy man with short, straight dirty-blond hair, wearing a suit, with skin that was normally the pinkish-beige of a white guy but was now kind of grayish and also yellowish, standing in front of the security doors. “That you, Tom?” he said cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah?” The man on the east side of the security doors was tall and skinny, with black hair in a ponytail. He was also white, but had the kind of skin color which could maybe mean Greek, Southern Italian, Northern Middle East, or something like that, except that it hadn’t seen much sun in months, maybe years. It also had a bit of a sallow cast to it, but nowhere near as strong as the man on the other side of the doors.

“Hey there! It’s Bob, from down the hall. Good to see you, buddy! How’ve you been?”

“Uh… okay, I guess? Overall? Today hasn’t been great though…”

“Oh, I feel ya, buddy, I feel ya. Things were going okay for me, too, but now I’m a zombie!” Bob chuckled. “Isn’t it funny, the curveballs life throws you?”

“Uh, yeah. Funny. Hey, if you’re a zombie how come you can talk?”

On the monitors, they could see Zombie Bob shrug. “I’m no egghead. I’ll let the scientists figure that one out. But we’re not all dumb just because we’re zombies, you know. I’ve been the head of Strategic Marketing for two years now… oh, but I guess you know that!” Bob laughed. “I know, I know, we’re coworkers! I don’t have to explain my position to you.”

“Sounds like maybe a touch of memory loss, there, Bob,” Tom said.

“Nah, nah, I’ve just been meeting with so many new people today! This zombie thing, it’s really underrated. I know I was practically pissing my pants when I realized I’d been bitten, but now that I’m a zombie? Oh, I know I look kind of unhealthy, but actually I feel great! No pain, and I’m never gonna have to worry about dieting again! Yeah, I’m gonna miss French fries, but to be honest I was considering doing keto, and this is kind of like extreme keto, right?”

“But zombies eat people. Right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course we do. Mostly brains, those are the best part. Hey, listen, Tom? Could you do me a solid here?”

“Uh… what do you want?”

“Ah, it’s not a big deal. I just need you to open up these doors so me and my new colleagues can come inside and eat your brains.”

Tom took several seconds to process this request. Finally he said, “Why, exactly, do you think we’d be willing to do that?”

“Hey, I know. It’s a big step, right? You just get a little bite, then you turn into a zombie and you live forever, long as you can keep eating, but we’re gonna be eating your brains, so you’re not gonna be turning into zombies. I can see why you’d be reluctant to do that.”

“Okay, so why did you ask?”

“Well, here’s the deal, Tom. You’re all gonna die screaming. It’s gonna happen. Maybe not this minute, but by the end of the day, it’s happening. So why put it off? Why put yourselves through the agony of anticipation? Just, you know, rip the bandaid off and get it over with.”

“Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”

“Come on, I don’t think it’s unreasonable. All we wanna do is eat your brains. It’s not like anyone’s talking about eating your eyes here!” Bob laughed again. On the monitor, the elevator opened, and two more zombies came out. They began to scratch mindlessly at the security doors. “Hey, hey there, folks, we’re not getting through these bad boys unless they let us in. Save your fingernails and teeth for a softer target, okay?”

The zombies actually seemed to listen to him. They stepped back and stood quietly.

“I’m not sure you’ve fully thought this through, buddy,” Bob said in a genially condescending tone. “Don’t mean to nitpick here, but this isn’t much of a plan. I know you’ve got a few guns in there, and maybe you’ve got the extra water cooler jugs and the refills for the vending machine? But really, how long’s that gonna last? You haven’t even got a bathroom in there. Bet it’s getting pretty stinky.”

“We’ve got some supply closets over here , and some buckets. We’re getting by.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you can open a window and let some air in, or dump your buckets! Those windows in there, they don’t open. I know! I kept sending memos to facilities, asking if I could get a window that opened, and it was always, no, none of the windows open, they’re not designed that way! Guess they didn’t want any of C-suite to be able to jump if commercial real estate tanked again.” Bob laughed.

Tom stepped away from the door for a moment, speaking quietly and urgently to Nishant, who was waiting for an update. “They don’t know about the windows,” he whispered to Nishant, who grinned briefly, and then ran back toward the IT manager’s office. It was Tom’s office, but it was on this side, with his department, rather than on the other side where all the other managers’ offices were.

He returned to the door to talk to Bob. “We’ll get by,” he said.

“Whoo-ee. Only thing I can smell anymore is tasty meat, but I tell you, I don’t envy you. Hey, why don’t we compromise? You open up the doors so you can dump your buckets, and then we all come inside and eat your brains.”

“That isn’t much of a compromise, Bob.”

“Sure, Tom, but have you thought through your alternatives? I mean, what’re you gonna do, spend the rest of your lives locked up in half the fifth floor of the shopping mall? Good enough for now, I suppose, and maybe you’ll get used to the stink, but sooner or later you’re gonna run out of food and ammo. Guess you’re gonna have to make a tough call then, huh?”

“I guess so,” Tom said.

“No, I don’t envy you at all. The way I see it, your options are, die of starvation, wait for us to break down the doors and eat your brains, or let us in, and at least the third option’s pretty quick.” He laughed again. “Though I’m gonna be honest here, Tom, I’m gonna eat you nice and slow.”

Tom sighed. “I have to say, Bob, I’m a tolerant guy but I��m really leery of this lifestyle choice of yours. I mean, eating brains? Have you ever considered not eating brains?”

“Well, I’ve considered it, but frankly they’re so goddamn tasty, who wouldn’t? I mean, if you guys manage to hold us off long enough, maybe it’ll come to the point where you have to eat each other, and then you’ll be eating your own brains. It’d be better to just get it out of the way quick, don’t you think?”

“I think we’ll manage.”

“I don’t think you’ve really thought things through, though. But that doesn’t really surprise me. You were always a detail-focused guy, never had much of a head for the big picture. Always trying to solve the problem of today, even if it causes problems tomorrow. But me, the big picture is what I do.”

Tom had heard this particular spiel before. “So what’s the big picture, then?” he asked, as behind him Ekaterina tapped him on the shoulder.

“The big picture here is that you’re gonna be dead one way or another. The whole human race is gonna go, Tom. And by the way, I don’t appreciate your comment about my ‘lifestyle.’ I’d be reporting you to HR, but I’m pretty sure all of HR is on your side of the doors.”

“Who’s on your side?”

Bob laughed. “Oh, wait, I got it! You’re mad at the comment I made about gay lifestyles a month ago! That was supposed to be a zinger, right?” He chuckled again. “Well, you’ll be pleased to hear I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore. You remember Kevin, right? The graphic designer?”

Kevin had been 23 and engaged to a boyfriend who was a guitarist in a band. “I remember him.”

“Well, now he’s one of us, and that’s all any of us care about. Gay, straight, white, black, it doesn’t matter once you’re a zombie. We’re all united together.”

“When you say ‘us’. Who’ve you got?”

“Well, right off the bat we got Horace. You would never imagine how delicious he was. You’d think all that fat on his gut would be a problem, but I’m here to tell you, he was exquisitely marbled.”

Horace had been the CEO. Tom shuddered, as he removed his pants and shirt, stripping down to his underwear. “I meant, who’s a zombie?”

“Well, honestly, most of the folks over here, we ate them. I got bit on my lunch hour, and after I turned, I led a bunch of folks from the mall up here. They’re good people, though, Tom. Really focused and dedicated. Hard workers.”

“Working hard at eating people.” Tom handed his clothes to Ekaterina, and she ran them back tto his office.

“Hey, it’s hard work to catch you guys. It’d be a lot easier if you’d just let us in.”

“Okay, break it down for me, Bob. What’s our ROI on letting you in? Where’s the win-win?”

“Sure thing! Now you’re speaking my language, Tom. I think it’s really great that you’re willing to work with me on this.” In the monitor, Bob smirked. “So here’s the deal. We’re all really hungry and we really want to eat your brains. You’re stuck in half a corporate office with nothing to eat and nowhere to go the bathroom. And no toilet paper! Man, that's gotta be rough. So what I’m suggesting is, you let us in, we eat your brains, you don’t have to live through any more of this bullcrap, and you don’t have to watch your families and loved ones get eaten. What do you say?”

Tom swallowed. The laser printed message in 48 pt font, on the paper Nishant was holding up, said “15 FT SHORT.”

“I can see you’ve got some good points there, Bob. But we actually don’t want to get eaten, so I think we’re gonna stick it out for now.”

“I sympathize with that, Tom. And I appreciate how you’re listening and considering my proposal. I’d really like to help you out, any way I can. What if I offer fast mercy killing? We don’t start eating you until you’re already dead, and we bludgeon you to death fast, no biting and tearing. How’s that?”

“Give me a minute to run that past some of my people,” Tom said, and walked over to Nishant. In an urgent whisper, he said, “You can’t find any more cloth?”

Nishant, who was naked except for Western-style underpants, shook his head. “The bras and underpants for everyone here wouldn’t get us the rest of the way, either,” he said. “It’d be different if we didn’t have to support Jason’s weight=”

“No one gets left behind, Nish.”

“I know, but that’s why we’ve had to make what amounts to five ropes in parallel instead of just one, because Jason’s arms are not strong enough to support 400 pounds.”

“Okay, and is anyone proposing a solution?”

“Xi said we should toss down cardboard boxes, but they won’t take his weight either.”

Tom sighed. “I can probably stall Bob for another five, ten minutes tops. You’re engineers. Figure it out or we’re dead.” A 15 foot drop wouldn’t kill most adult humans, but it might well render a lot of them unable to run afterwards, and in a zombie apocalypse, that’d essentially mean death. “Have we got confirmation on the helicopter?”

“They say it’s on its way,” Nishant whispered, shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll tie him up as long as I can.” Tom returned to the door. “Sorry, that’s a non starter. I’ve got a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Bob said approvingly. “Hit me.”

“What if, and I’m spitballing here, you let half of us go, and you just eat the brains of half of us?”

On the monitor, Bob shook his head. “That’s not going to work for us, I’m afraid.”

“What about a quarter?”

“It’s logistics, Tom. There’s no way you get out of here except the stairs and the elevator, and they’re both overrun with zombies. I can’t control all the zombies in this mall, just my own people. You’re not getting to the bottom uneaten, and frankly, if someone’s going to eat you anyway, it should be me and my fellows. You can see my position on that, can’t you, Tom?”

“You could turn half of us into zombies, and eat the brains of the other half,” Tom suggested.

“No, afraid that’s not doable either,” Bob said.

“Mind filling me in on the decision process there?”

“No problem,” Bob said cheerfully. “We’re really hungry.”

“Huh. Well, I guess I can respect that, but that doesn’t get us past the hurdle that we don’t want to get eaten. You have any suggestions?”

“Sure, I can compromise a bit. I want to work this out with you, Tom. I’m not a monster.” He paused. “Wait. Technically, I guess I am. Huh. A horror movie monster.” On the monitor, he shrugged. “It doesn’t feel too different from normal!”

“I doubt most monsters think of themselves as monsters,” Tom pointed out.

“Hey, good point, good point.” Bob looked at his wrist, which did not have a watch on it. “Look, it seems like we’re at an impasse for the moment. I’ve got another meeting, so maybe we could wrap this up?”

“Well, we haven’t worked out a deal yet…”

Nishant came back. This time the 48 pt font on the paper he was holding up said “ROOF. JASON’S UP. REST OF US GOING.”

Tom nodded to acknowledge the message. He didn’t really want to know how his mostly nerdy and unathletic coworkers could have climbed to the roof in the first place, but it was only one story overhead, unlike the ground five stories below, so it was a good plan. He turned back to the door. “But if you have a meeting, I guess there’s no help for it.”

“Yeah, we’d better table this for now, sorry. We’ll come back to this. I know we can get to common ground, somehow. Just gotta work it out,” Bob said. “I need to report in to my colleagues who’re chewing on the doors. Real dedicated folks.”

“Sure, and I need to report to the engineers with the guns that that’s what they’re doing.”

“Hey, I appreciate you taking the time to hear me out! I know we’re all busy as hell, and time is the one thing we can’t get more of, right? Especially for you guys.”

“Not a problem, and I'm grateful for all the advice.”

“I’m glad you take constructive criticism well, “ Bob said, the genial condescension back. “Not everyone does. We’ll swing around to give another go at working things out later, and we’ll put this thing to bed when I bash your head open, all right?”

“Sure, if you don’t get a skull full of lead first.”

Bob laughed. “Man, Tom, you’re a funny guy! You should’ve done stand-up. See you later!”

As soon as he was gone, Tom ran for his office.

Bob seemed to have normal human intelligence despite being a zombie. As soon as Tom had realized that, he’d known he’d have to keep Bob distracted so the zombie couldn’t hear any of the sounds within, especially the sound of breaking glass. He was right that the windows weren’t designed to open… but that wasn’t much of a barrier for a dozen desperate engineers.(Well. Technically nine desperate engineers and IT personnel, and three desperate people from HR.)

It was a good thing Bob himself wasn’t an engineer, or he might have figured out what Tom had known, in a cold pit in his stomach, the whole time.

The security doors were nearly impenetrable. But the walls they were attached to were just standard drywall. And they didn’t even go all the way to the real ceiling – just to the drop ceiling where the wires were. So any zombie who knew that could climb up into the ceiling and then jump down. If zombies could keep their human intelligence, then it was just luck that only one of the engineers had been down at the food court earlier today when the zombies attacked, and he’d moved fast enough to escape.

The window in his office was shattered. There had been a heavy hammer in the facilities closet, and Alexey had managed to grab two guns and ammo from the Bass Pro store in the mall before coming up the freight elevator and getting in through the delivery door – which was, thankfully, on the east side. The glass on the fifth floor was thick, but between the hammer and a well-placed bullet, it had broken enough that they’d been able to smash the rest of it out.

Dangling just outside the window, where he could easily grab it and pull it inside, there was a cradle made of four ropes, where the ropes had been made by tying together scissored strips of everyone’s clothes. Tom stepped into the cradle, using the loops that had been tied onto the ropes to secure his wrists, and the straps on the bottom of the cradle to secure his legs. “Okay! I’m ready!” he yelled upward, and tugged on the cords.

His team pulled him up to the roof, with Nishant, Alexey, Xi and Timothy pulling on the ropes, and Jason sitting on the roof with the ends of the ropes tied behind him. Jason’s heart condition wouldn’t allow him to pull the ropes, but he could use his body as ballast to make sure none of the team fell. His face was pasty white, like there was no blood in his body, and he was breathing hard and sweating, but since Jason usually looked like that after any kind of minor exertion -- his heart was barely managing to do its job -- Tom wasn’t afraid he had turned.

Pete was holding one of Alexey’s two rifles. Ekaterina was unraveling the fifth rope and tying pieces of it around people’s waists and women’s chests, so they could have a tiny bit of modesty back.

“How did you guys manage to get to the roof?” Tom asked as he untied his straps and stepped out of the rope cradle.

“It was Ashley, actually,” Nishant said.

Ashley from HR was a petite woman, but in nothing but her bra and underpants, she was more muscular than Tom would have guessed. “ I do parkour and mountain climbing,” she said. “I’m not saying getting up here was fun, but you know, when the alternative is getting your brains eaten…”

In the distance he could see helicopters. “I know we contacted them already,” he said, “but let’s wave them down. Just to make sure.”

“We’ve got plenty of cloth to make flags,” Ekaterina said.

Tom wondered what Bob would think, when he and his zombies got the door open and found that they’d all gone through the window. The ropes had been pulled up, so he doubted that Bob’s first guess would be the roof… but Pete and Alexey were on guard with the guns, just in case.

Indrani, one of the programmers, leaned over the edge to see where they had come from. “Uh-oh,” she said. “They’ve found the window… looks like one of them is climbing out on the ledge.”

Alexey walked to the edge, cocked the rifle, and pointed downward. He fired. “Not anymore.”

They could all see the zombie fall. The shot hadn’t killed it – it was a chest shot, and they could see it flailing – but when it landed, a puddle of red appeared beneath it, including under its head, and it no longer moved.

“How much ammo have we got?” Tom asked.

“Enough to kill about 300 zombies, if every shot is perfect,” Alexey said.

“Which it’s not gonna be,” Pete added, somewhat unnecessarily. His brown hands were clenched so tightly on his rifle, the knuckles had turned white. “I’m… not the world’s best shot. I go to the range sometimes, get in a little bit of practice, but mostly I suck.”

“You’re probably better than most of us, though,” Tom said.

“I knew I should have gotten a shotgun,” Alexey complained. “At close range the rifle is almost useless.”

“You were under time pressure,” Ekaterina said. “If I’d been in the food court when a zombie turned and started biting people, I don’t think I would have been able to think clearly enough to go to the end of the mall and get a gun from the Bass Pro. Let alone two, and ammunition.”

“I think I see Bob down there,” Indrani said. “He’s… what is he doing?”

“Don’t fall off the side!” Timothy went to his knees rapidly, ready to grab Indrani’s ankles.

“I won’t. What are they doing?”

Rachel from HR peered off the side from a different vantage point on the left of the broken window. “They’re forming a human chain. Well, a zombie chain. One’s climbing on top of another and they’re holding onto each other.”

“That’s not good,” Pete said. “Alexey, you need help there?”

“No, stay covering the door to the roof.” It was chained and padlocked shut and the door was a metal security door, but who knew what would happen if enough zombies banged into it. Alexey took aim, and shot the bottom zombie of what was now a three-zombie human ladder, and all three fell. One managed to grab a ledge; the other two fell to the ground. One stopped moving; the other crawled feebly, her arms and legs obviously broken.

Tom looked up at the helicopter coming toward them. It had a rescue basket, large enough to fit all twelve of them. Twelve. The company had been thirty-three people this morning. He thought maybe one of the sales guys had been out in the field on a call, and the regular receptionist had been out sick, so… thirty-one people in the office had turned into twelve survivors. Plus some that had become zombies, like Bob.

A phone rang. Everyone looked at Donatella, the third of the refugees from HR. She was as underdressed as the rest of them, but she had a purse on her, made of a crunchy plasticky recycled material that no one had thought would hold up to the stress of being part of their escape ropes. The phone was ringing from inside it.

Donatella withdrew the phone, her hand shaking, and answered it. “Rose and Weldon Company, this is Donatella Antonucci, can I help you?” She listened for a moment. “Why don’t I put you on speaker?” And looked up at Tom. “It’s for you, do you want it on speaker?”

“Is it Bob?”

Donatella nodded. Tom rolled his eyes. “Fine. Put him on.”

“Hey there, Tommy boy! You there? It’s me, Bob, again.”

“Yes, Bob, I’m here,” Tom sighed. “No, we’re not going to let you in to eat our brains.”

“Yeah, I can see that you’re on the roof,” Bob said. “Who’s that with the gun? That Russian dude? Ilya or something?”

“His name’s Alexey, and yes.”

“He’s good,” Bob said approvingly. “But listen, Tom, it’s not too late to open up the door on the roof and let us in. We’re in the stairwell.”

“Then who’s trying to form human chains down there?”

“The correct word is ‘zombie,’ Tom, not ‘human’. Please don’t misattribute our species.”

“Okay, fine, who—”

“That’s Barry from Sales. You remember Barry, right? Always bragging about his workouts and his gym routines and the times on his runs? Well, turns out he wasn’t all hot air. I thought he got away from us – he sprinted off when we almost had him, and he was too fast for any of us to follow. But then an hour later he came back and joined us, because one of us had landed a bite and turned him. Isn’t that cool?”

“It’s really not as cool as—”

“I sure think it’s cool.”

“Bob, I’m a busy man, please get to the point.”

“Sure, Tom. I know your time is valuable, I don’t want to waste it. It’s just that you should know, Barry’s a talker, like me, so he has our colleagues doing the zombie ladder thing there, and I’ve taken us up to the roof, and I’m pretty sure we’re gonna manage to knock this door down sooner or later.” There was a “thump” from the chained, padlocked roof door. “So I’m just offering it up as an option here, you might want to consider just letting us come outside and eat your brains.”

The helicopter was getting larger, but the closer it got, it seemed the slower it was coming. “I imagine you could do that,” Tom said. “How many zombies you got in there?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“No real reason,” Tom said. “Just, we’ve got a pretty defensible position here and a lot of ammo.”

“That’s good to hear. Makes it challenging. A good workout before dinner always makes the meal tastier, isn’t that what they say?”

“Actually they say you shouldn’t eat until half an hour after working out…”

“Pretty sure that’s a myth, Tom. But you could Google it on Donnie’s phone. I know you don’t have one of your own, I found it ringing in your office when I tried to call you.”

“So what’d you do, wardial numbers until you hit one that rang?”

“Pretty much, yeah. I probably should have thought of one of the HR ladies first, since I know they got over to your side before you closed the doors. By the way, Bart? In sales? You know, the guy who didn’t make it to the door before you shut and locked it? Dee-lish. Appreciate you leaving him for us.”

“Bob, have I ever told you what an asshole you are?”

“That’s really not professional language, Tom.”

“I know, but I’m standing here in my underpants and you want to eat my brains, so I’m not feeling very professional. I have a counter-proposal for you, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I think you guys should strongly consider the merits of eating shit and then dying. Especially you. After fucking off so long and so far there’s no longer any off to fuck. And also going to hell, straight to hell, without passing Go or collecting 200 dollars.”

Bob laughed. “Man, you’re funny, Tom! I’m gonna miss these little chats after I crack that skull of yours like a steamed mussel shell and scoop out the brainy goodness inside.”

Another “thump” from the stairwell. Alexey shot another zombie chain, sending three more of them falling. “This is fun,” Alexey said. “Tell Bob I’m looking forward to blowing his head off. I want to see if he still has red blood or if it’s turned green like some of these guys.”

“I heard that fine,” Bob said. “Is that Alexey? I’ve always liked Russian food.”

“Were you this big of a clueless narcissist when you were alive, or is this just a zombie thing?” Tom asked.

“Oh, come on, Tom, I thought we had a rapport. I thought we were making some progress, working on this thing together.”

“Bob, when you and I worked together on identifying cities whose legislature might be open to letting us build a new Towne Centre shopping mall in their town, we had a rapport and we made progress. You really wanting to eat our brains is just not our problem and I don’t feel obligated to help you with that.”

“Yeah, what do you guys even do for the company?” Bob snarked. “We’re not an IT company, we don’t write programs. We develop and sell commercial real estate. All we ever needed was one dude to hook up our PCs to the Internet. We didn’t even need servers, we could have kept it all in the cloud.”

“We did keep it all in the cloud, Bob. We haven’t had servers in about five years.”

“So what did your department even do? How did you justify your salaries?”

“Among other things, your database marketing plans wouldn’t have gone very far if we hadn’t been maintaining the database… but that isn’t even the point.” The thumps and the sounds of the shots had grown more frequent, and the chain, somewhat rusty, was actually rattling hard. It was entirely possible that if Bob and his zombies just kept throwing themselves at the door, it would break open.

Again, not the engineers’ solution. But Bob, and Barry for that matter, seemed to have retained their normal human intelligence… not gained any intelligence. Bob hadn’t thought of makeshift explosives yet. Or shoving a long heavy-duty file into the crack and filing away at the chain. Or anything else that might work.

“I can’t hear you very well, Tom, what’s going on out there? Sounds like you’re standing right next to the air conditioner, or a generator?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bob, maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom lied as the helicopter, finally above them, lowered its rescue basket. It was hard to hear Bob through the “whup-whup-whup” of the helicopter blades, but Tom made the effort to talk normally, rather than shout into the phone as instinct told him to do.

“What?”

“I said maybe it’s the line on your end,” Tom said, as rescuers directed Jason to sit in the exact center of the basket, and then had the rest of them spread out by estimated weight, to balance the load.

“What? I can’t hear you at all, Tom, what’s going on?”

Very loudly, because now he was in the basket and standing right under the helicopter and its whups, Tom yelled, “What’s going on, Bob, is fuck you!”

He hung up on the zombie and handed Donatella back her phone as the helicopter climbed, pulling the rescue basket into the air. “Block him.”

There was another human chain of zombies forming, now that Alexey was no longer in a good position to shoot them down. Tom, on the edge of the basket facing the building, stuck his middle finger up and leaned out as far over the edge of the basket as he dared, making the gesture at Barry and his zombie ladder as broadly and visibly as he could.

#52 Project #zombies #songfic #comedy

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se0kie · 4 years ago

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chapter 4: the boundless ocean

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, eventual smut, ANGST (whoo boy)

tags/warnings: some talks of mortality, otherwise nothing much

greek gods au, poseidon!taehyung, marinebiologist!reader

summary: it’s difficult being a god. what with all the immortality, the decades bleeding into each other and losing every human being you come to care about. and taehyung’s lived, or whatever it is gods do, for a very, very long time. he thinks he needs help but the fates are being the mysterious, useless hags they’ve always been. how can a conservatory and it’s passionate, fiery owner possibly help him. turns out Y/N is the only mortal he’s met who’s ready to challenge him head on. of course it’s not like she knows her new intern is the king of the sea, maker of horses, the earthshaker, poseidon himself after all.

previous <> next ; series masterlist

It’s next to chaos at Hamdeok beach.

The day after the male turtles returned to the shallow waters you made sure to have every worker and volunteer of the Blue Side Marine Conservation on your property and spread around the shore keeping an eye out for the slightest activity. Taehyung had successfully survived two whole weeks with you and your gang of flaky friends.

His job for now had mainly been running around passing on information about the temperatures of the water and the sand, sodium levels in the seawater and clearing any boats away from coming close to the shallow end of the ocean.

Although he didn’t really need to remember the results you passed onto him.

He knew the exact temperatures of the sea, he could feel the number as soon as he reached the thought, he could taste the brine on his tongue as he conjured the digits for sodium levels and the boats... well let’s just say all he had to do to take care of the boats was swish the waves in the opposite direction.

Hoseok, you and Jungkook were keeping lookout at the rocks far out into the water, close enough to shore but distant enough to keep track of the dozen or so male turtles floating lazily in anticipation of their mates.

Taehyung would never admit this to his fellow Olympians but he was having fun here. He got to spend time with the sea as a regular mortal instead of solving disputes between whales and sharks. He would occasionally accompany Hoseok out to the deep waters to observe the coral reefs, even diving in sometimes if Hobi deemed it appropriate.

He had grown to like your two friends, Hoseok was a breath of fresh air from the dripping Nereids and his annoying brothers. Although he did remind Taehyung of his nephew, Apollo. Both of them positively radiated the sun’s energy. He would have to ask the god of archery about his mortal consorts, Hobi could very well be a demigod born of the fickle Olympian.

Jungkook was what he would’ve imagined all young adults were on earth, were he not an incredibly innocent and loving person. He had never met anyone as nice and helpful as Jungkook. He seemed like the paler photocopy of his sister, Hestia. They were both just so sickeningly likeable.

And then there was you.

Taehyung can clearly see you sitting on the largest rock, your knees pulled close to your chest as you stared diligently out at the horizon, then turned your head back again to catch sight of the green turtles poking their heads out of the surface of the water to breathe; and then diving back in with a small splash. Jungkook is writing in the journal that contains notes, statistics and other data regarding the nesting project.

Hoseok has his arms spread out behind him, soaking in the gentle sunrays as he hums a little tune. Taehyung settles down on the soft sand, tucking his legs crossed as he observes the trio on the rock.

He can almost feel your anxiety radiating off of you in waves, you seem to be especially sensitive about this nesting period. Subconsciously, he starts humming along to the tune Hobi is singing far away from him. The sweet melody filling his ears as he concentrates on the area you’re in. He can see the rush of the wind coming towards you, dangerously close to toppling your research material and snack basket into the water.

But quick as a sailfish, Taehyung flicks his wrist and the gust of air flows over the group’s heads.

He sits there in the sand patiently waiting for the female turtles to arrive along with you, he can see the enthusiasm slowly drain from your expression as a faint frown brushes over your brows. You’re disappointed, he can see it clear as day.

The office had received a call from the small group of professors sailing in the waters surrounding Jeju, they were the ones who had notified your team about the male turtles closing into the coast, how the females would follow close behind. But it seemed that the others were late, or even worse, lost or attacked by predators.

Professor Kim Namjoon and his husband had been so sure that the turtles would reach the nesting site in the mere matter of a day or two that you had made it your mission to overlook the mating process. You were beginning to look a little crazy to Taehyung, but he could stomach it.

He had seen far worse.

And you were now looking close to tears as the sun was setting gently into the waters and the seagulls were picking at the fish they had caught, Taehyung closed his eyes and looked for the group of distressed reptiles in the ocean surrounding the island.

He could see them clearly in his mind, the turtles were swimming hard but unfortunately the current was flowing in the direction opposite their destination. He breathed in slowly and coaxed the water to let the tired group make their way back to the coast where they had been born. He could tell these turtles were returning to the beach they had hatched in. Perks of being the literal god of the sea, huh?

He helped the animals swim back, letting the current slightly carry their bodies. When he opened his eyes again it felt like Zeus had knocked the air out of his lungs.

Because there you were, absolutely beaming at the sea. Hair caressing your face with the breeze as the orange sun glowed behind your head, making it look like you wore a halo. Your face was lit up by the rays of the sunset but not as much as by the dazzling smile you wore. You were softly laughing as you watched familiar green shells bobbing away in the clear, blue water.

A triangular head poked out, nose pointing straight at you as if trying to say hello. And if anyone was paying attention to the small, overwhelmed woman on the rock instead of the turtles, they would’ve caught how your cheeks glistened with silently shed tears.

Taehyung was paying attention.

You and your newly befriended intern were walking along the shore, both on your lunch break, four weeks after the mating season had gotten over. The pregnant turtles would arrive any time soon to lay their eggs at the beach.

You were constantly on edge, anxious about the delicate situation but excited for the opportunities your little conservation would come across if the nesting season passed successfully.

“So how did you and Hobi manage to open up Blue Side? You’re both far too young to have done it all by yourself,” Taehyung voices from beside you. He wasn’t very chatty, not usually. But he had his moments when he would ask questions you had never been asked before, or take interest in the mundane routine of your life.

You release a puff of air, flashes of your past running through your mind as you lazily pick at one to answer, “Well, you know we’re a nonprofit organisation. But we had financial backing from Hobi’s parents, and my dad. Mr. and Mrs. Jung are both professors at the Stanford University. My dad used to be a research biologist, he’s a visiting lecturer now.”

You look up at your companion, softly kicking sand with your toe. You catch him looking at you with a peculiar smile painting his face, you reach out and brush the sun bleached strands of hair out of his eyes as you catch yourself squinting at the scene just behind him.

It’s a man you recognise from somewhere, his hand emptying a plastic bag full of trash into the foamy waves of the ocean. It clicks in your head and you know why he seems familiar. You shriek with sudden irritation, “YOU!”

You stomp the few meters towards the man, who now resembles a deer caught in headlights. Although it looks like you’d rather just run him over.

“What is the matter with you?!” It’s more of an accusation than a question. You don’t give the offender any time to retort when you’re flying off on one of your passionate rants.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Green sea turtles, almost extinct by the way, just mated here in these exact waters a month ago, they’re gonna be back to lay their eggs any day now. You have any semblance of coherent thought to know how delicate they are and how trash in the ocean can literally suffocate them?!” you take a breath as you really look at the man’s red face.

You continue mercilessly, “Eighty percent of marine debris is plastic, the mass of plastic in the oceans are as high as one hundred million tonnes. You hear that? One hundred million. The Great Pacific Garbage Patch is twenty times the size of Texas. You’re killing the planet, the animals and yourself. Have some empathy for your home,” you finish off with disgust lacing your tone.

The severely embarrassed man was quietly leaving with his bag of rubbish as you stared holes into his back, crossing your arms across your chest as you blew the strands of hair hanging in your eyes. You can feel Taehyung’s gaze on you, but you can’t find it in yourself to turn to him. The god is looking at you with fascination, never has he met a woman quite like you. A violent blush is staining your cheeks as you feel your face heat up under his intense scrutiny.

“Why do you always do that?” you hear his deep baritone ask.

You still refuse to look at him but respond anyway, “What do you mean ‘always do that’? Do what?”

“I don’t know? Why are you always so passionate about the sea? It’s not just the sea either, the fish and the plants and everything underwater,” he’s still looking at you as he says, “You want to protect it all so badly. Why?”

You sigh as you finally turn your head to look at him, the pink glow of the sunset makes him look even more ethereal than he does on the regular. You sweep your eyes over his face several times, taking in his features as you carefully sort the words building in your throat.

Your gaze drops to the ground where the littlest of waves are kissing your toes, the smell of the ocean thick as you feel the wet sand under your feet.

“Because,” you begin.

“Because what?” he retorts.

You look back at him intensely, your eyes burn with the light of the dipping sun but Taehyung doesn’t think it’s on purpose. Your eyes just look like that whenever you talk of things you’re passionate about. He’s noticed that since he’s met you.

“Because!” you huff. “It’s my job. It’s my job to protect the sea.”

Taehyung scoffs at your reply, it’s lame and you know it but being vulnerable has always been difficult for you. “Yes, it may be your job but nobody expects you to do it 24/7. You’re always scolding people who litter, always picking up trash you catch in the waves. Hell, you’re always hanging out with the fisherman to make sure they’re using the right methods while out at sea and not overfishing.”

He presses on, “Tell me, Y/N, what’s it all about?” Only this time his voice is softer and infinitely more intimate.

“I want to do all of that. I love the sea, that’s the short answer. But the sea is all we know,” you reply with a breath. “Air, water, earth. It will all remain even if we die out. And if I could help save even a few inches of the ocean, just a handful of fish in my measly lifetime I will live on as the sea.” You say sincerely as you turn your eyes up to catch a glimpse of Taehyung’s reaction.

He’s looking at you with emotion you don’t recognise, a peculiar tilt of his lips and eyebrows slightly furrowed as if he’s doing a tricky math problem. You speak softly, your voice dropping to a low whisper now that you’re both standing closer than before, “My work, my achievements, my life. It’ll all be immortalised in the waves.”

Internally, the sea god thinks of what a wonderful woman you are. He has never met a mortal as selfless or as loving as you. You have so much love to give that it bursts out of the seams of your heart and splashes everything around you in golden hues.

“You, me, Jungkook. We’re all just mere human beings, Taehyung. The ocean and the sky? They’re what truly matters in this universe. I live my life for the ocean and its creatures so that years and years after I’m dead I’ll still be floating in the waves,” you tell him honestly, wondering how did you let a man you’ve only known for a month or a half hear your most personal truth.

But you know that if anyone deserves to know something like this about you, it has to be Kim Taehyung.

More minutes of comfortable silence follow, the hypnotic slosh of the waves pulling the stress and anxiety out of your mind. You and Taehyung face each other in front of the now barely visible sun, and the glittering horizon.

He says after a long minute of gentle breathing, “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I like you,” he confesses, not a hint of hesitation or embarrassment laces his voice. Just sheer declaration.

Your cheeks flare up once again, something that seems to be happening increasingly ever since the new intern arrived. You somehow manage to keep your cool as you say, “It’s only been a few weeks, Taehyung. How can you know if you like someone if you’ve barely even met them?”

“Weeks, months, 400 years. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same to me. Time doesn’t determine emotions, Y/N.” Taehyung says wisely, the young and carefree looking boy doesn’t talk like the many kids his age.

You smile sweetly... at him? For him? You don’t know, but you smile instead of affirming his confession.

“Sure Kim, but you still gotta clean the aquariums.”

taglist: @a-kookie-with-my-tae @btsxdoll @taffyteffy @aesthetewriter @happyhrsme @yoongifiess

#bts smut #taehyung smut #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung #bts fic #bts v #poseidon #greek gods au #se0kie

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maybankiara · 4 years ago

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NO GRAVE CAN HOLD MY BODY DOWN (I’LL CRAWL HOME TO HIM)

pairing: JJ Maybank x Pope Heyward

summary: JJ realises he’s immortal when he wakes up buried in a coffin. He’s got to make his way back to his friends - more than anyone else, back to Pope, whom he hasn’t admitted his feelings to. (Not like he admitted them to himself either, anyway).

w/c: 4.3k

a/n: gay angst with some immortality!! also, there’ll be no mention of claustrophobia, just jj trying to figure out how to get out. i have another mayward fic planned with immortal!jj but basically everything else is different.

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JJ wakes up in a coffin. He comes to the realisation when he makes an attempt to turn around, thinking he’s in the bed of the spare room at the Chateau he’d long ago claimed his own, only for his shoulder to bump into something hard.

‘Ow!’

The sound of him hitting the wood and it feeling oddly…contained, for the lack of a better word, summons a series of flashing images.

A gun in his hands. Topper Thornton dangling by his ankle from a tree, screaming bloody murder. John B shouting JJ’s name. Pope crying it out in pain, Kelce’s hands on his neck.

A gun in Rafe’s hands. White thunder.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers. And then— ‘Holy shit, I’m immortal!’

Laughter that falls from his lips is maniacal. He thinks of all the pranks he could do now – if there’s no death to fear, there is nothing to fear. Even if he doesn’t know the limits, JJ can only think of the endless possibilities of what he could do – what do you do when you aren’t afraid of anything?

JJ’s hand slams against the top of the coffin and he does it again, on the verge of crying from excitement. His breathing is rapid and so is his heartbeat.

‘Take that, Rafe! Whoo!’

He wants to tell the pogues. He wants to see the look on their faces—all the questions they’ll have—and he wants to see who’s missed him out of others, if anyone has. He has to ask Pope about the implications of his immortality and how it works – if his memory hadn’t suffered up when Rafe blew his head up and it still serves him right, Rafe did blow his head up. It was probably a closed casket.

Huh.

JJ’s fingers hesitate for a long second before touching his chin, half-expecting to find nothing but a mesh of whatever his body was made of. But they’re met with a firm, hard jawline, skin connecting it to his neck, and his lips, and keeping his blood and whatever—Pope would know better—where it’s supposed to be, inside.

The blond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It comes out in the form of a chuckle, airy and free.

Pope would find this the most interesting. Does JJ have scars? He’d know how his body managed to heal, how his brain preserved.

He begins to wonder about what effect this has on the rest of his life—afterlife?—when he hears a small voice, just like Pope’s.

‘Being buried alive is one of the worst ways to die,’ he told the pogues months ago, solving a past paper that someone who wants to be a coronary would take. ‘You’ve got five and a half hours’ worth of air, tops. You’ll suffocate before someone finds you, if they ever do, anyway. It’s not all bad, because the carbon dioxide you produce breathing eventually overtakes most of the air inside the coffin, and you fall into a coma. You die and you feel lightheaded, like you’re falling asleep.’

You die like you’re falling asleep.

JJ wonders if he’d wake up again. Probably. Does he have nine lives or an infinite number?

He’d like to test that.

But for now, if Pope’s right—and JJ is kind of hoping he isn’t—then he’s got about five hours to get to the surface. Even if he wakes up again, there’ll be no air for him to breathe, which essentially keeps him dead, until possibly thousands of years pass and someone accidentally opens his grave and he storms out like a zombie from another time like in that movie with—

Focus.

‘Focus. Yeah, I gotta focus.’

JJ nods to himself. He calms his breathing and starts to think about every possible way to get out of his situation. He’s not claustrophobic, which is surprising, but that might be because the fact that he vividly (kind of) remembers being shot in the head is kind of more dramatic than waking up in a casket six feet under.

Four feet, he remembers – the earth on the Cut where they made the graveyard isn’t good for digging, or anything, really, so the graves are usually shallower than the standard six feet.

He should be able to push through it – right?

Right?

JJ’s died and come back to life. If he can do that, then he can make his way out of here.

For the next however long, JJ tries to remember every piece of information that would help. He knows from John B and when they worked at a construction site for some quick cash that when he opens the casket, all the dirt will fall into the hole he just made and fill it out.

He knows from surfing that aerodynamic works best the flatter the object is, so if it applies to water, it probably applies to earth, too. When he opens the casket, he needs to shoot upright as straight as possible—doing something straight will be the biggest challenge, really—and let the dirt fall over him.

It’s a game of seconds. He’s really got one shot at this.

‘If there’s a massive fuckin’ hole in the middle of a graveyard, someone will notice, right,’ he mutters to himself.

It’s fine. It’s something.

JJ presses his palms flat against the massive wood over him. The material is hard and stiff, but when he bangs against it, it moves a little. Enough for a few bits of the earth to fall in, on his chest.

(Or so he thinks. It’s not like he can see.)

He figures that his best bet is pushing it open like a door, then squeezing immediately as he keeps pushing it. The gravity of the earth falling should hurt him—he knows this isn’t going to be easy, or nice, or pleasant—but he should push through if he does the Superman pose, with his hand in the air.

The thought makes him chuckle, and as his lips stretch, he tastes sweat in the corners. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and it leaves a wet mark, so he wipes that on his shorts.

JJ sighs. ‘They buried me with the fuckin’ cargo shorts.’

He hadn’t given much thought to how he’d be buried, but now he reckons his hair is a mess, his shirt is a basketball-style, holes big enough so that the sweat from his armpits soaks into whatever carpet they put at the bottom of the coffin.

JJ stinks – like, badly. He remembers Pope said that corpses shit and pee themselves and fart and whatnot, but has no clue if he acted like a real corpse. Was he dead dead, or just kind-of comatose without a heartbeat?

Shit, what if he’s been dead for a while? If his dead had been blown off then it must’ve taken ages to reconstruct.

What if he comes back and the pogues have moved on, they have families and kids, and Pope’s gone off to university and—

‘Shut up,’ JJ whispers to himself. This pitch-black darkness is making him see things, and feel things he doesn’t want to.

He’ll deal with that later. The only thing that matters right now is getting the fuck out of here.

JJ doesn’t let his hand shake when he applies pressure to the wooden board above him. He does it slowly, and when it doesn’t budge, he knows slowly isn’t the way to do it.

So JJ just thinks of Pope, John B, and Kie, and their faces on the HMS Pogue, and slams through the coffin. He slithers through the whole immediately, eyes and mouth closed and the same hand that opened the coffin is outstretched, high above his head, and he’s pushing with his legs instead of his back.

He was right – the earth is heavy. He feels it crumbling around his chest, around his feet, around every inch of space he’s just created, but he keeps pushing.

If he doesn’t push, he’ll stay like this—half buried—forever.

The tip of his finger touches the air – then another, then all five. The fact that he’s so close gives him a surge of adrenaline, coursing through his veins, and he pushes through the weight of the earth even further, until his entire hand is above the ground.

fuck yeah.

Then an elbow. Then he slides his other hand across his torso, feeling the weight tug at the bones until the pain is so intense he thinks he might’ve broken it. His chest tightens—it’s been almost a minute—but he manages to get the other hand out, too.

Just a little more.

One more push.

that’s what she said, he thinks.

And pushes.

Being out of the coffin after spending it in about an hour or so is like jumping from a tall cliff – thrilling, chill-inducing, and very much like breaking the water tension with your back instead of the head.

He gasps like a fish out of water, still trapped from shoulders and below, but he breathes.

JJ laughs, and then realises he’s also being soaked because it’s raining harder then he can remember, and figures it’s okay to open his eyes. It hurts, at first glance – the sky is shrouded in dark grey clouds and rain is absolutely pouring, but he sees that it’s day, not night, and he sees that the trees still look like late summer.

‘FUCK YEAH!’

Thrilled to be alive, JJ lets himself have a moment to breathe. He sees he’s buried in one of the cheapest parts of the graveyard—which says much considering his dad must’ve been the one who paid for the funeral—and most of the other graves look terrible. He turns his head to the side, just enough to look at his own.

J. MAYBANK. 2003 – 2020. BELOVED SON AND FRIEND.

‘Sons of bitches,’ he mutters. ‘It’s like it would’ve killed them to be fuckin’ creative for once.’

His arms ache and his legs feel like they’re about to give in, but he’s got to get out. With a deep breath, he buries—ha!—his fingers as firmly into the ground as far as he can, and then tugs.

He’s out a minute later, but he’s damn glad no one was around to hear him grunting like a little pussy.

JJ shakes his limbs, getting some blood through them. He looks disgusting – dirt mixed with sweat means that it’s all sticking to him, and he doesn’t even want to know what his face must look like – even if it isn’t absolutely mangled. His hair is terrible probably, too, because the strands that aren’t sticking to his face seem mucky when he tries running his finger through it.

i thought they made dead men look pretty.

Then he tells himself not even dying and crawling out of a grave could make him look any less pretty, so he’s okay.

‘Ha,’ he muses to himself, ‘my pretty goes beyond the grave.’

About ten minutes later, when his muscles feel as alive as he does, he begins his twenty-minute trek to the Chateau. He figures it’s his best bet – it’s next to the marsh, which isn’t too far from the graveyard, and JJ’s not going to get anywhere near the road if he’s taking the fastest route.

So, looking like a dead man walking, he sets off for the Chateau.

By the time he’s arrived, some of the dirt has washed off—he conveniently stood under a tree that was basically leaking water—and he guessed he didn’t look a lot different than anyone walking around under this kind of weather. There were no puddles for him to look at himself at, which was quite a shame, but he figured he’d just check himself out at a mirror in the Chateau.

Now, JJ is just… He’s just standing in front of the backdoor to the place. The marsh is behind him and the house in the front, and this should be simple, except he’s got no clue what’s about to happen. Lights are on in the living room, that much he could see from the outside, but there was no guarantee it would be his friends.

Panic started to eat him inside out – what if he walks in, unannounced, and it turns out he’s been dead for years and some completely random people live here, instead?

Before he manages to chicken out, he opens the door. The door creaks—that’s a good sing, thinks JJ, John B was going to have it fixed by the end of the year—and promptly closes behind him. Old reggae coming from the living room is the only sound aside from water dripping off of JJ.

fuck it.

JJ makes his way to the living room. A lightning strikes somewhere nearby and, just as he rounds the corner, thunder follows.

His friends are sitting on the floor, in the middle of the room.

JJ grins. ‘Tell me, do I make Freddy Krueger look pretty?’

In that very moment, three things happen. John B screams. Kiara knocks over the speaker. Pope faints.

And as for thing four, that happens a moment later, JJ just sighs. ‘That bad, huh?’

—

‘…and that’s how I ended up here.’

About two hours later, JJ’s finally finished his story. It took them quarter of an hour just to stop freaking out—Pope had been convinced he’d seen a ghost until Kiara and John B managed to explain to him he hadn’t—and even then, they weren’t ready to hear the story.

They made him take a shower, first. Fair enough.

John B went with him to get some towels and clean clothes, and Kiara stayed in the living room, getting Pope some water. Nobody spoke for a very, very long time.

When JJ looked at himself in the mirror, he was both distraught and amazed. There was a scar running from cheek to cheek, over his nose, and well underneath his jaw, with skin inside this circle looking like it had been slightly burned years ago, with colour different to the rest of his face. JJ ran a finger over it – the texture was rough in some places, smoother in others.

Somehow, he was convinced the scars would persist, but his skin would heal. He felt it in his bones – it rang as true as the fact that his heart was about to burst through his ribcage the moment he’d locked eyes with Pope.

JJ took a shower, cleaned himself up. The clothes John B had brought him were his own, and he smelt them for a second – it felt like coming home.

The Chateau had always been his home.

When he returned to the living room, Pope looked a little better – they all did. JJ reassured them that he had, in fact, died and been buried. Pope went on to state in graphic detail how mangled his body—head more so than other parts—had been when they’d last seen him.

JJ forgot Rafe had killed him in front of them.

‘Y’all must be scarred for life,’ he said as he took a seat on the floor of John B’s living room, and then grinned. ‘But not on the outside, like me.’

They didn’t find it as funny as he did.

So, with the aid of some water and pizza they had leftover from earlier, JJ told his story. There were a lot of interruptions—not as many from Pope as he would’ve thought, considering dead people are his expertise—but he managed to get it done.

And now, he grins at them, arms spread over the couch behind him. ‘So, y’all impressed already?’

The silence is pregnant. Kiara’s hands are folded in her lap as she leans her back against the couch, and John B mirrors her position, only on the wall. Pope, unlike the other three, is standing with his side against the doorway, biting his nails. (JJ is pretty convinced that’s a habit he picked up from him.)

Kiara clears her throat. ‘JJ, you were gone for two months.’

‘What? No way, that’s— That’s impossible, Kie. It was just yesterday—’

‘We buried you,’ says John B, voice hoarse. ‘Mourned you. Had to learn how to live without you.’

‘But I’m back now! That’s great news, right?’

‘JJ, we’re fuckin’ happy you’re back.’ John B leans forward and pats him on the back, squeezing his shoulder. His smile is grim, but it’s there. ‘It’s just a little unbelievable. We watched you die. It’ll— It’ll take us some… time.’

At the doorway, Pope is still staring at JJ as if he’ll disappear at any given moment.

JJ’s neck stiffens, and he’s sure John B feels it, because his hand falls limp to the side. The blond mumbles something, incoherently enough that not even he knows what he said, then shakes his head. ‘I should probably get some rest.’ His eyes fall to his lap. ‘Apparently two months wasn’t enough.’

His words seem to cut through the atmosphere in a way that alienates him from the rest of them – the uninterruptedly living.

Nobody says anything, but JJ still rises to his feet. His hands pat his shirt and his shorts, as if they could do anything to smooth the creases. He glances at John B, whose eyes are fixed on him. ‘My room still empty?’

‘Nobody’s touched it since you…’ The brunet shakes his head, as if a thought needed to get out. ‘Might be a little dusty.’

‘You want me to fetch you anything?’ asks Kiara, voice wavering. ‘I can go to the Wreck—’

‘I’m good. Thanks.’

JJ doesn’t linger around to see their reactions – if there are any, anyway. Last thing he sees is Pope, still leaning against that door frame, unmoving and stoic as ever.

Like John B said, the bed needed to be dusted. JJ was done with that in a couple of minutes, and then he stripped into his underwear (what a waste of fresh clothing) and slipped under the covers.

The weight of these past few hours crushed on him like a raging storm. It doesn’t matter that he crawled out of his grave to join them – they had two months to figure out a way to live without him. Two months is more than enough to move on, to accept the new reality.

He knows because he’s been through it.

Outside, the storm rages on, too. JJ thinks of John B, a little calmer and quieter now; Kiara, distant like she seemed at the beginning of her kook year; and Pope.

Pope, who wouldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a second. Pope, who always had a smartass comment to chime in with, now pushing himself to the side and not participating.

JJ sighs. His chest is heavy and his face is stinging a little, but the realisation is heavier than any physical pain – his friends managed to move on from him. Couple of hours for JJ meant a couple of months for the pogues. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe he gets to leave, now, when everybody thinks he’s dead.

Some time later, JJ lies awake, still. The storm has dwindled to mere tapping on the window, but his mood hasn’t changed.

Another kind of tapping him reaches him – full, against the wooden door separating him from the rest of his life.

JJ gets out of his bed with a tired sway to his hips, legs dragging along the floor. He rubs his eyes before he opens the door and when he does, he leans against the door frame, blinking against the sudden light.

‘Hey,’ greets Pope.

‘Hey.’

There’s hesitation reeking off the boy in front of him. His shoulders are slumped and JJ feels like he’s his height, even though Pope has always been taller.

The blond scratched the itch underneath the left side of his jaw. ‘You want to come in?’

Pope nods. JJ moves to the side and closes the door once they’re both in.

Out of habit, JJ plops down onto the bed, face-first. He doesn’t even notice Pope hasn’t done the same until he shifts a little and realises there’s a silhouette positioned against the window, blocking the moonlight from entering the room.

JJ drags himself to the edge of the bed, feet bare on the floor. His elbows are draped over his knees and he sees Pope a little better now – hands in his pockets and a frown on his face, lower lip with a quiver to it.

‘What’s up?’

‘You’re really here, right?’ Pope doesn’t miss a beat. ‘Alive?’

JJ chuckles, but there isn’t much humour to it. ‘As far as I can tell.’

‘But we watched you die.’

‘I know. I can remember all of that.’

‘You shouldn’t be here. Alive.’

‘I know,’ JJ says. ‘But I am. What are you going to do about it?’

The hesitation that comes off of Pope is different this time. It’s fleeting—ephemeral—and JJ only gets a moment’s worth of looking into his eyes when there’s hands on his cheeks, and warm lips smashing against his own.

All he hears is the rain tapping on the window, or the beating of his own heart. The warmth of Pope’s lips on his, or the cold of the storm.

The touch disappears, and JJ thinks he’s about to wake up in hell, and this was just a way to torture him – to give him something he’s yearned for and take it away like it was nothing.

open your eyes, boy. we ain’t finished.

His dad’s voice is like electricity and JJ opens his eyes, terrified.

Except it’s just Pope staring at him, looking just as distraught as he feels. JJ isn’t in hell. He’s in John B’s room, and while it might stink like hell, it isn’t it.

The storm is still quiet and gentle, but JJ doesn’t even notice it so much. Not after—

‘I thought I’d missed my chance,’ Pope says, weakly. ‘I just needed— I couldn’t—’

JJ shifts the weight to his feet and his hands find Pope’s neck like they belong there (because they do). He holds him—gentle, cautious, fragile—and shakes his head, at loss for words.

He wants to say ‘me too, Pope,’ except it’s not good enough. Except it doesn’t encapsulate what it feels like to die thinking the man you love never loves you back, or at least you’ll never find out, only to wake up, alive, and find out that your feelings have been reciprocated all along.

To crawl out of a grave for him.

JJ kisses him with the very same ferocity, with more hunger to it. JJ’s felt death—he’s felt the unknowable—and he won’t let another moment pass without doing the things he’d been afraid to do.

By the time they part, both boys are catching their breath, not even an inch apart. JJ’s hands are firm on Pope’s neck, thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw, while Pope’s hands grip the blond’s shirt at his sides.

JJ wants to say something, anything.

Pope is faster. ‘I thought I’d never get to do this.’

All JJ can do is nod; no words could ever be enough.

The shaky breath that falls from Pope’s lips only moments later is different from the boy who was leaning against the door frame earlier – more like the Pope JJ knew.

fell in love with.

It’s a little bit cynical, and a little bit guarded, but nevertheless free and innocent like JJ always knew him to be. But he takes creates some distance between the two, and JJ’s hands drop to his sides.

Pope’s smile isn’t what JJ thought it would be. It doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘You’re leaving.’

He should’ve known Pope would realise it. He just wondered what gave him away. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Don’t lie to me, JJ. Not after we just—’ Pope cuts himself off. He clears his throat, resting the back of his head against the window.

Breathless, JJ sits down on the bed, same position as earlier – as if his entire life hadn’t just been rocked from one side to the other. ‘I’m dead, Pope. You buried me. That’s what John B said. I get to— I get to do whatever I want. Go whatever I want. I’m… I’m free, Pope.’

The moon peeks through the clouds, bright enough to bask Pope’s silhouette in silver. JJ thinks of how much the boy resembles an angel – how he felt like one when he’d kissed him, granting him a wish he’d never dared to voice.

‘You could stay,’ suggests a small voice. ‘Be our own little ghost.’

JJ lets out a full laugh. ‘Is that what I am now?’

Pope’s smile becomes a little clearer as the moon gets back behind the clouds, and JJ wishes he could see his eyes clearly, too. ‘I can’t lose you again.’

He knows he should leave. They both know, Pope more so than anyone. JJ’s dead—legally—meaning that he can’t be seen around town without raising more than a couple of eyebrows. He can’t live on his own. He can’t—

He’s free from his dad, from obligations, but if he stays, he becomes enslaved to his own death.

But if he stays…

i lost you once already, pope. i can’t do it again, either.

He sighs and, unaware JJ’s already made his choice, Pope drops on the bed next to him, hand holding the blond’s. ‘Just for a year. Not even that long. Then I’ll be off to university, where no one knows any of us, and— And we can get a fresh start. Together.’

Careful, JJ cups the boy’s cheek. He can see his eyes now, as the moon shines on them like no other person has been worthy of its light – they’re not sad, or hopeful, but they are fretting.

JJ kisses his cheek, before turning his head slightly to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

He could never think of giving up on this. Not when he’d died to get it.

So he echoes, ‘Together.’

★

tagging. @the-pogues @ronnieweasley @outerbankslut @drewstarkey @jjmaybanky @sacredto @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @teamnick @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @nicolewithasoul @starlightstarkey @stargazingstarkey @anonymous0writer @outerbongs @jjandreidsgirl @kaitieskidmore1 @maybanksbaby @obx-direction-sos @stfukie @abbiesthings @tempestuousjj @solllaris @ijustgotnothingbetter2do @rafej-cambanks

#mayward #jjpope #jj maybank #pope heyward #outer banks #obx #mayward fanfiction #jjpope fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #s: mayward #f: obx

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fencesandfrogs · 4 years ago

Text

cloudtail’s daughter: cinderheart

alright well third character: cinderheart.

i'm going to be honest, i don't care enough about cinderheart to have a lot to say about this. i'm finishing it in the morning, and i'm starting it in night, so watch this be longer than dovewing's (fat chance i wrote like 4k words about dovewing because, and i can't say this enough, i lovewing dovewing), but i'm not feeling particularly inspired at the moment.

ohhh wait i changed my mind this is the one where i get to talk about cinderpelt again, isn't it? yeessss i take it all back i've been waiting to write this since i first wrote cinder back in dovewing's character

anyway as per usual, this is part of an au where dovekit and ivykit are born to brightheart and cloudtail. go ahead and click the cloudtail's daughter tag if you want to see more about this. this is probably pretty dependent on knowing what happens to dovewing in the au, but i'd say compared to lionblaze, its still more self standing because it's significantly more verbose, so it's not reliant on filling in the gaps as much, because this is filling in the gaps.

[3k words, 10 minute read. section headers. a little bit jumpy.]

section one: cinderpelt and cinderkit --- an exposé on reincarnation

you don't need me to tell you warriors reincarnation is weird. to make my life easy, here is how it works:

true reincarnations -- jay's wing/jayfeather, dove's wing/dovewing, lion's roar/lionblaze. only one soul exists. half moon will reunite with jayfeather. or ig he can decide to go by jay's wing. dovewing and lionblaze may or may not regain their memories on death; it's not important to this story so i'm not decided

starclan induced reincarnations -- cinderpelt's soul gets shoved into cinderkit. they now share. this was, ah, very dangerous, because cinderkit and/or cinderkit's soul could have died. but she didn't. as cinderkit grows into her own person, she and cinderpelt will grow either increasingly intertwined (i.e., cinderpelt weaves into cinderheart, and is never fully awakened.) when they die, idk what happens. it's not very nice.

luckily, that didn't happen. instead, cinderheart grows apart and cinderpelt basically is a voice in her head. eventually, at some point, idk, cinderpelt frees herself. i'm sure i'll figure that out in this post, but i don't know yet.

so that's their deal.

section two: cinderheart and lionblaze

alright, cinderheart and lionblaze are not going to be a conflict thing, because of destiny. i'm just, that's. well it's a step up from the standard romance drama, but i still hated it. so anyway, cinderheart knows lionblaze is in L-O-V-E with her, but she's kind of holding out until he's more mature/responsible.

she's also not ready for kits, and that's the only way a warriors romance can be officially codified.

jk, but in seriousness, they're already close, similar to sandstorm and fireheart in books 2-4 or so of TPB. she's just not ready to take him as a mate yet, and he's kind of funny as a bumbling fool. that said, she does care a lot about him and if he pushed her, or circumstances pushed her, she'd be willing to be upfront about it.

cinderpelt is happy cinderheart is finding love, but she does kind of wish it wasn't with lionblaze. not because he's an idiot, after all, cinderpelt had a crush on fireheart before he finished growing a brain, but because she is worried about the prophecy. and lionblaze dying and leaving cinderheart alone. so cinderheart has some internal conflict about this, but she has internal conflict over whether she wants thrush or mouse some days. side effect of having two souls in one body. she keeps it wrapped up because she's pretty sure she's into lionblaze and cinderpelt is unsure, and she doesn't need to confuse the situation anymore.

yeah, by the time this series begins, cinderheart and cinderpelt are really two separate entities, and cinderpelt is getting ready to leave. she's just sort of waiting. it's until cinderheart and lionblaze confirm they're mates. why? because that's when it happens in the original and i can't think of a better time. also, it kind of completes cinderpelt's small crush on fireheart.

(it really wasn't that big. sandstorm just made a big deal out of it because she was jealous.)

section three: dovepaw

right, so cinderheart is hype for dovepaw. the dovepaw is real sweet and quiet and cinderheart feels good about that. so they're excited.

cinderheart and dovepaw go out for territory and cinderheart is like "she's on top of shit this dovepaw" and dovepaw catches a mouse or two and cinderheart is super proud and supportive and everyone is happy.

and then cinderheart starts to feel like she's failing dovepaw, because dovepaw just can't get anything else down. lionblaze and ivypaw, on the other hand, are having basically no issues. so she feels like she's failing dovepaw, and she's a little insecure about that, so cinderheart and dovepaw tag along with lionblaze and ivypaw a lot.

as you can guess, this makes everything worse.

cinderheart realizes dovepaw is sneaking out at night and is like "well this is a problem i'm not equipped to deal with" and frets over it for a while, unsure of who to talk to without geting dovepaw in trouble. (lionblaze also snuck out as an apprentice, he's an unreliable source.)

so she doesn't tell anyone at first, just makes sure dovepaw is still getting sufficient rest for a young cat. (she isn't.) eventually, she lets it slip to hollyleaf who talks about it with lionblaze who ivypaw overhears, but ivypaw is the last character i'm covering in this set of essays.

dovepaw gets trapped in the tunnels for three days, and cinderheart feels like she's failed her charge. also, brightheart is kind of mad at cinderheart because she feels that cinderheart didn't really do anything to stop dovepaw from feeling like she needed to prove herself and like, brightheart's not wrong, but it's also unfair to cinderheart. so cinderheart blames herself a whole lot because dovepaw is dead now and it's her fault.

when dovepaw gets back cinderheart only barely punishes her, and dovepaw has had enough exploration, so being confined to camp is only barely a punishment anyway. cinderheart vows that she's going to do better, do right, by dovepaw (although she's really been doing pretty okay no one is really blaming cinderheart, even brightheart has gotten over it now that dovepaw is back and safe and alive.)

section four: can you hear what i hear?

so when dovepaw gets back, cinderheart takes her out once she's recovered, and dovepaw is like "so where are the creatures with the clicky-clackies?" and cinderheart has no idea what's going on.

but cinderheart, despite being lumped in the "two braincells" category that the first three pov characters have (seriously if you haven't read my breakdown of this au as a whole you may want to because i've written so much for it that i'm definitely skipping details. now that my pace has slowed from "about 10k words in one weekend" to "2k words a day" it's better but still), is not an idiot. she's seen the lake get smaller. times are getting hard. there was a gathering while dovepaw was in the tunnels that cinderheart went to and it was real rough. so she's like. hm. maybe. dovepaw is starclan chosen or something? it would explain why she's spacy all the time.

cinderheart gets all the info she can from dovepaw and then has to figure out whether she's taking this to firestar or jayfeather.

i'm not 100% how this resolves, but eventually, cinderheart and dovepaw go to firestar to discuss the beavers. cinderheart does most of the talking, dovepaw is just kind of there nodding along.

so the standard canon thing happens and they all get ready for the trip. i feel like i've done a pretty in-depth breakdown of this for dovewing, and hollyleaf will get one too, so i'm just going to say, other than hollyleaf also coming, it's pretty much canon.

section five: the tribe

oh man it's the cinderheart book and whoo boy am i excited for this one.

alright alright alright so dovepaw is doing the Late Nights again, but its to see tigerheart. so cinderheart is uh, not very aware of it this time?

dovepaw is older and smarter (barely) and more importantly knows she can’t get caught again.

so dovepaw real tired, real close to tigerheart at gatherings, and cinderheart is like “hm maybe something is up” and cinderpelt is like “yeah keep an eye on that”

(an aside: so cinderpelt’s presence is kind of a nagging one in cinderheart’s life. it’s not that she’s not the same cinderpelt we know and love, but she’s a kind of omnipresent authority figure, so she reads a bit differently. but she’s still our wonderful cinderpelt. no fear.)

and ivypaw tells lionblaze that dovepaw is sneaking out (see here for lionblaze, literally 0 awareness) and he tells cinderheart and cinderheart is like “well that checks” and cinderpelt is like “hm remember fernpaw and dustpelt”

“ferncloud is like a second mother to me no i don’t know the details of her romance”

“yea well...”

you know, cinderheart's almost worried dovepaw is going to have kits real soon after becoming a warrior and there are approximately 0 thunderclan toms she's close enough with for that to be applicable.

(for the record, they are not that close. cinderpelt is concerned not just because forbidden romance, but also because of how young leafpool was. not impossibly young by any means, but still fairly young.)

so then through uhhh who knows memory? convenient stormfur is convenient? haven't decided yet, but anyway, cinderheart decides the tribe can help them. (the real reason is because i want the tribe to solve a clan problem for once. the stated reason is probably something like "dovepaw feels too much pressure after the beavers" or "long journeys are good for apprentices" i mean look brambestar dgaf about where warriors are going so why should i?)

lionblaze and ivypaw come along and cinderheart is like "great i just told this guy that i don't want to change anything between us until i'm done mentoring dovepaw and now he's tagging along with this? where's a hollyleaf when you need her?"

(hollyleaf is living with her ghost boyfriend, cinderheart, she is no longer a reliable source of buffering between you and lionblaze. also, cinderheart, this isn't coming up in this au because again ending in step with canon but please consider: lesbians.)

anyway, the four of them set out and dovepaw and ivypaw still aren't talking which is getting really old, really fast.

eventually, after a day or two of travelling in basically silence, ivypaw and dovepaw do start to talk again. one goal down. (my conviction that travelling books are good, actually, remains untested, but i'm determined to prove it.)

okay, so i've been reading all my notes in detail as i start actually drafting this, which means my essay content is morphing further into writing notes. you can tell because i'm skipping bigger sections, or adding notes about purpose in story, etc. this is just a warning that since i last worked on this, i've actually begun writing the book this stuff takes place in (the first book only matters if you're dovekit or ivykit, so the fact that i'm writing it doesn't really have an effect. i just wanted to start with something low-stakes.) so like, on one hand, i should have more figured out, but on the other hand, my comments are going to be a lot looser and i wouldn't be surprised if i just straight up contradict something i already said (i do edit my posts but not heavily and only if i think they're something i'm going to point people back towards. i'd rather point people to my archive once i start posting, so.) anyway, this is just a warning for this and anything else in the CTD essay series (hollyleaf, jayfeather, ivypool, as well as the books, growing shadows, fading echoes, distant whispers, and whatever the canon names are but switch book 4 and 5), that it's going to be less "here's a summary of what i'm going to do" and more "here are my thoughts about what i'm doing"

right that note aside, the travelling party makes it to the mountains. there's drama, probably? none of them have been to the mountains IIRC? i know jayfeather has but i don't think the others went with him (bramble did? hm i'll have to research) but okay so the point is, they make it to the tribe as the mountain is getting colder and this is where i have to deviate from my trend of realism the most because they're going to stay on the tribe for much longer than they should. my timeline has ivy/dove born in leafbare at the beginning of the season (easier math), so this is early-mid leaf fall, and the mountain would be unpassable really soon. but i don't want that, so we're going to pretend they have 2-3 moons before it's truly impassable, or the story flows a lot worse because i really want the drought to be in green leaf because it just sets up a hard hitting winter which is a good tension/drama fodder machine.

unfortunately, i'm limited in who i can kill off, but what can you do?

right so anyway, they're in the tribe and cinderheart present dovepaw and stoneteller is like "huh ig this could work sure why not" and dovepaw is enlisted to be a tribe to-be. she's not given an offiical whatever the tribe word for mentor is, (does the tribe have individual mentors? i can't remember off the top of my head), but she's more or less the same as any othet tribe to-be. the fact that she's so fluffy is a bonus. keeps her warm.

cinderheart is less at-home in the tribe, but she works with the prey hunters and generally gets along. i'm not sure. maybe she makes friends? (this is literally her book she definitely does interesting things i just don't know who lives in the tribe off the top of my head. her life does not revolve around dovepaw like 100%. she has to sort out some cinderpelt stuff in this book it's just very internal and i'm not entirely sure how it goes yet.)

so cinderheart and dovepaw are doing their thing for a bit. they get a good chance to explore tribe culture. it's good. everything is good. cinderheart is still definitely mentoring dovepaw, but what that means right now is a lot of modeling how to be a good learner, rather than explicitly teaching. cinderheart herself is preparing and thinking about how to transfer these skills to thunderclan.

uh yeah so anyway it's getting close to winter so they gotta head out, and the tribe is like "off u go food is tight in leafbare/whatever-they-call-winter" and the four of them set out.

okay so i'm going to skip to cinderheart's second book, because honestly, arc one narrators all get thrown in BGCH until they're needed in arc 2. (i mean, tbf, jayfeather has done literally nothing in all of arc one. nothing. he's just there, occasionally being like "no firestar, don't make dovepaw my apprentice!" and that's pretty much it.)

and basically so while jayfeather and hollyleaf are off having ghost romances (that's the entire plot of their book it's ghost romance), cinderheart and lionblaze are just having a relationship. dovewing and ivypool are warriors now, so cinderheart does have background drama of being worried because dovewing is still seeing tigerheart ("we took her on a whole mountain vacation and she's still obsessed with him?"), but like, it's very chill for a while.

and then sol comes back.

oh man, sol comes back and it's gonna be a big deal. yeah. it's a big deal for cinderheart, and hopefully this will be an interesting section, because cinderheart is a very different character from the OG oots crew, and she's going to handle problems in a different way, and this is the first chance we get to see that. the beavers don't count she was j chilling with whatever dovepaw said and the tribe is certainly a good example of her character (caring, resourceful, outside the box), but that's the set up. sol is the pay off.

so cinderheart is pleased by sol, but also generally wary. you gotta remember, cinderheart has been on a lot of extra curricular field trips. she's met a lot of cats. (note to self: include more loners.) she's a quick judge of character. and sol, you know, he's a lot.

so she keeps an eye on him, and she expresses her concern to hollyleaf, and hollyleaf is like, yeah, sure, i'll help.

so hollyleaf is like "so by the way, sol is in the tunnels." and cinderheart is like "this is going to be a problem" and cinderpelt who is now in starclan is like "oh she's finally learning."

so i'm not entirely sure on the details here because i haven't plotted out the ending three books in nearly as much detail (i mean on the blog i have but in my head where i keep all the plot lines i haven't) but cinderheart is going to solve the problem and she'll do it in a different way.

thunderclan definitely still learns to fight in the tunnels because they need to for battle purposes. (oh, to be a windclan tunnler, looking down in sadness from starclan about what my clan has lost.)

and yeah leaving cinderheart here because she retreats to BGCH after completing her duty of being a meanful character.

cinderheart? done.

#lionblaze #dovewing #ivypool #hollyleaf #cinderheart #cloudtail's daughter #mine #q #txt #27th #February #2021 #February 27th 2021 #essay #long #lovewing dovewing #not really but also yes #28th #February 28th 2021

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sevenchan-translation · 4 years ago

Text

Narration:And now, back to Earthworm Jim!

そして今、アースワームジムのお話に戻りましょう！

Trapped in an unbreakable cheesy grip, Jim as at the mercy of the razor sharp claws of Evil the Cat.

ジムは壊れないチーズの罠にハメられ、イビルザキャットの鋭い爪になすがままにされてしまいます。

Cat:I shall have, THE BOOK! And with it I shall destroy the universe!

私は本を手に入れる。そしてそれをもって宇宙を破壊する！

Peter:That'll hold them for a minute, Good thing we reenforced the door after that incident with the old lady from UNICEF.

これで少しは持つかな。ユニセフのおばさんの件の後でドアを補強しておいて良かった。

Must cut the cheese!

チーズをカットしなきゃ！

Come on, COME ON!

Jim, what should I do?

ジム、何か出来ることはある？

Jim: Still... weak... from cheese...

まだチーズで弱ってるよ…

Peter, Evil is... a cat.

The evil most cat in the universe to be sure. A cat, the likes of whom we won't see again!

But still... a cat...

ピーター、あいつは猫だ。

確かに宇宙の中で最も邪悪な猫だ。あんな猫には二度とお目にかかれないくらいにな！

しかし…結局猫だ…

You must call for help from.. your canine brethren.

助けを呼んでくれ、君の犬の仲間たちに。

Peter: It's been a long time since I've spoken dog, but I'll try!

犬語を話すのは久しぶりだけど、やってみるよ。

Cat:Here, let me try!

ここは私に任せてくれ。

Rat: Ow!

Akk!

Cat:Foolish dogs! I could destroy you with a foot.

愚かな犬どもめ、この足で破壊してくれる。

AAAAAAAAAAA!!!

AAAAAAA!!

Rat:We go home fast fast now boss? Henchrat going to miss his self naturalization workshop!

ボス、もっと早く帰れない？ヘンチラットは、移住するための講習会に顔を出せなくなっちゃう！

Cat:No my mindless rodent lackey, I have a plan!

だめだ、お前は私の愚かな齧歯類の下僕だ。計画があるんだ。

Narration: Later, our heroes have an unexpected visitor!

その後、我らがヒーローたちの元に予想外の訪問者が訪れました。

Jim: Were you expecting an unexpected visitor?

君は予想外のお客さんが来るのを予想していたか？

Peter: How can they be unexpected if I expect them?

予想していたのに、どうして予想外になるのさ？

Jim: Enough of this witty banter, I'll get the door!

このウィットに富んだ会話はたくさんだ。俺がドアを取る！

Cat: Oh boohoo and woe is me, I am a small child and not a cat.

I am so bored and wish I had some amusing book which to entertain myself with.

Did I mention, I'm not a cat?

ぐすんぐすん、あぁとても悲しい。

私は小さな子供です、猫ではありません。

とっても退屈しています、何か面白い本でもあれば自分を楽しませることができるのになぁ。

私は猫ではないと言いましたよね？

Jim: Poor suffering tyke.

Wahahaha! Wahahaha!!

Your piteous tale has touched my heart!

My mind reels back to my own sad childhood, The horrible damp borrows, the constant hunger for decaying vegetation, And the crows! THE TERRIBLE, STUPID CROWS!!!

Wahhhh!!!

苦しみあえぐ哀れな子供よ、君の痛ましい話は俺の心に響いた。

俺の心も、自分の悲しい子供時代に戻っている。

恐ろしい無責任な借金、植物は腐って飢えに苦しみ、そしてあのカラス。

残酷で愚かなカラスども！！

Cat: Just give me the book, you fathead.

その本を寄越してくれれば良いんだよ、マヌケ。

Jim: Oh, right. Sorry.

あぁ、わかった。ごめんよ。

Cat: HAHAHAHAHA!!

Now, Foolish worm! I shall destroy the universe!

さーて、愚かなミミズさん、宇宙を破壊してさしあげます。

Jim: Kids are so advanced today, Not more than 3 and already he's out to destroy the universe.

最近の子供は進んでるな。3歳にも満たないのに、もう宇宙を破壊しようとするんだから。

Grrk!

By the Great Worm Spirit, who's mighty bristles strike the hammer blows of justice! AFTER HIM!!

偉大なるミミズ魂の強大な剛毛のハンマーを、正義の名の下に味合わせなければならない。奴を追うんだ！！

Narration: And so, Jim pursues Evil, through the vast inky void of space.

そしてジムは悪を追い、この広く暗い宇宙の中を進んでいきます。

Jim: Eat Dirt, detestable nemesis of virtue!

イートダート！悪事以外取り柄のない、憎き宿敵よ。

Cat: We must have more speed!

もっとスピードを出せ！

Rat: I cannot do it captain, she'll not take the strain! (Said like a Star Trek character)

(スタートレックのキャラクターのように。)

それはできません船長、機体への負担が大き過ぎます。

Cat:Why are you taking like that?

何だその喋り方は？

Rat: Hmm... Henchrat not know.

うーん。ヘンチラットもわかんない。

OW!

Cat: Forget it! Man the fur ball torpedoes!

忘れるな、毛玉魚雷砲員、配置につけ！

Jim&Peter: Aah! Aaah!!

Peter: Jim, what's that?

ジム、あれは何？

Jim: The most horrible peril in all the universe!

全宇宙の中で最も恐ろしく危険なものだ！

Peter:A gym teacher?

体育の先生は？

Jim: Ok, second most horrible peril. A BLACK HOLE!!!!

OK、その次に怖いもの、ブラックホールだ！！

Narration:Our heroes fall inexorably toward the second most horrible peril in the universe, a black hole.

我らがヒーローは、宇宙で2番目に恐ろしく危険なブラックホールへと容赦なく落ちていきます。

Peter: I need time to fix the rocket!

ロケットを修理する時間をちょうだい！

Jim: I'll solve this problem with my 4 Hyper-Intelligent brains!

俺の超博識な4つの脳で解決してやる！

Jim’s Brain: I'm Hungry. I'm Cold! I'm Itchy! Where are the girls?

お腹すいた！寒いよ！痒いよ！女の子はどこ？

Jim: Ohhh....kay, When all else fails, START BLASTING! HAHAHAHA!!

うまくいかないときは、撃ちまくるんだ！ハハハハハ！！

EAT DIRT, INSUFFERABLE SPACE ANOMALY!!

イートダート！耐え難き宇宙の特異点め。

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

Peter: Jim, we're slowing down!

Your gun's blasts have the same charge as the particles around the black hole's radius. WE'RE BEING ELECTROMAGNETICALLY REPELLED!

ジム、減速してるよ！

君の銃は、ブラックホールの周りを放射状に広がっている粒子と同じ電荷量を持っているんだ。

僕らは電磁力を利用して反発し合っているんだよ！

Jim’s Brain: Huh? Huh? Huh? Girls?

は？は？は？女の子？

Peter: Never mind, just keep blasting!

気にしないで撃ち続けて！

Jim:If you say so little buddy.

坊や、君がそう言うならば。

Ahahahahaha!!

Peter: Way to go Jim!

I'll have the rocket fixed soon!

頑張れジム！

僕もすぐに修理を終わらせるよ！

Jim: Good! we must find that treacherous cat!

よし！あの裏切り者の猫を探さないとな！

Peter: and save the universe!

そして宇宙を救うんだね！

Jim: Oh heck with the universe! I want my book back!!

I loved Fuzzy Wuzzy like a brother!

宇宙なんかどうでもいい！俺の本を返してくれ！！

俺はあの本を兄弟のように愛してきたんだ！

Cat: Just as the proper note can shatter a glass, so can the proper sound shatter the universe!

The sound of the shriek made by the reeking beast found on Malodorlin 6!

Every beast must make the sound at once in order for it to work!

The beast will make the proper sound when they see... a fondue fork.

適切な音色でガラスを粉砕できるのと同じように、適切な音で宇宙も粉砕できる。

その音は悲鳴のように甲高く、マロドリン6で発見されたリーキングビーストから発せられる。

全ての獣が一斉に音を発さなければならない。

獣はフォンデュフォークを見て適切な音を発する。

Of course, it's so obvious...

Quick, to the Malodorin system!

勿論、まぁ言うまでもないが…

急げ、マロドリンへ行く準備をしろ！

Jim: If only I could remember what was on that page after The Pudgy Wudgy Hippo!

ああ、ぷにぷにカバちゃんの次のページに何が書いてあったか思い出せれば…！

We might know where Evil has gone! Come on brains do your stuff!

イビルザキャットがどこへ消えたか分かるのに！脳みそ、何か思い出してくれ！

Peter:Wait! One thing can jog even the most stubborn memory, The hideous smell of the reeking beast.

待って、どんなに頑固な記憶でも呼び覚ませるものがあるよ。

リーキングビーストの嫌な臭いさ。

Jim: Quick, to the Malodorin system!

急いでマロドリンへ向かわねば！

Narration: On Malodorin 6, Evil sets up a hologram device to project a vast fondue fork in the sky.

マロドリン6では、イビルザキャットが空に巨大なフォンデュフォークを映し出すホログラム装置を設置しています。

Cat: Hehehe, Now I shall destroy the universe!

へへへ、今、私は宇宙を破壊する！

Rat: Hehehe!

What we do then boss?

それでその後はどうするの？ボス。

Cat: Hmm... I hadn't really thought about it actually.

Gloat I suppose, cackle wickedly amid the ashes sort of thing?

実は、一度も考えたことが無かったな。

灰の中で意地悪くほくそ笑むといったところかな？

Jim: Hwoo!! Oohh!! Smmm!!

Smell overwhelming! Hoo!

臭いが覆い尽くしている！

Peter: You think you've got it bad? You don't even have a nose!

君は臭いと思えるの？鼻すらないのに！

Jim: Whoo!

Must get closer!

Must be strong!

��っと近づかなくては！

臭いが強くなっていく！

Peter: Ooogh! The smell, I gotta get outta here!

うわー！臭いよ、ここから出たい！

Hurry Jim! I can't stand it!

急いでジム！我慢できないよ！

Jim: It's working, I'm remembering...

I REMEMBER! The reeking beast!

やってるよ、思い出しているんだ…

思い出した！リーキングビーストだ！

Peter: How could you forget them!!!

逆にどうやって忘れてたのさ！！！

Jim: That's how you destroy the universe! You get all the reeking beasts to see a fondue fork!

IT'S SO OBVIOUS! And it means, Evil must be here!

それが宇宙を破壊する方法なんだ！リーキングビーストたちにフォンデュフォークを見せるんだよ！

そしてそれは当然、悪党がここにいるということを示している！

Peter: I CAN'T STAND IT! IT SMELLS SO BAD IT HURTS! IT HURTS!!!!

我慢できないよ！臭いし、痛いよ！痛いよ！

Jim:Uhh, It doesn't hurt that bad, does it? Little buddy?

ええー、そんなに痛くはないだろう？なぁ、坊や。

I'll take that as a big yes.

それが君の大きな答えなんだね。

A hologram projector! Got to stop them!

ホログラムの映写機だ！奴らを止めないと！

Hey bucky!

Catch!

ARRRGH!!

Cat:Impudent worm! Face the wrath of my acid fur ball!

生意気なミミズめ！アシッドファーボールで報いを受けろ！

Aagh!

AAAaaa!

Fur ball:Oof!

Cat: Yes! History will remember me as the cat who destroyed the universe!

Uhh... except there won't be any historians..

よし！宇宙を破壊した猫として歴史に残るのだ！

あー、ただ、歴史家も1人残らずいなくなるのか…

Why isn't everything shattering? What went wrong?

何故全てが粉々にならない？何か間違っていたのか？

The Reeking Beast:Whats that? It looks like a cantaloupe don't it?

あれは何ですか？マスクメロンのように見えますが？

Cat: Grrr... Come on!

来い！

It's a fondue fork!

あれ��フォンデュフォークだ！

Rat: Hehe, for fondue!

へへ、フォンデュに使うんだよ。

Cat: Now, emit your shriek so I can destroy the universe!

さぁ、宇宙を破壊するために、叫んでくれ！

The Reeking Beast:Oh pull the other one mate, it looks more like a cream tart or a hydraolic pump.

あなたの言っていることは信じられません。それよりもクリームタルトか、油圧ポンプのように見えます。

Cat&Rat: Ew!Bleah!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Jim: How fitting that Evil shall remain here!

Trapped forever in his own private smell!

悪党はここに留まるのが相応しい。永遠に閉じ込められて、2人だけの臭いを楽しむのさ。

Peter: You said it, you big universe saving lug!

その通りだね！君は大きな宇宙を救ったんだ！

Hahaahhahahahahahah!

Jim: Well, we defeated Evil, we saved the universe, and we're reunited with the Pudgy Wudgy Hippo!

えーっと、悪を倒し、宇宙を救い、ぷにぷにカバちゃんとの再会を果たした！

Life is good! Only one thing could spoil my mood now!

人生は楽しい！そんな俺の気分を台無しにするものがひとつだけある！

Peter: What's that Jim?

それは何、ジム？

Oh.

#earthworm jim ep2

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hobiwonder · 5 years ago

Text

Workaholic | (m)

Genre: Smut, pwp. fluff if you squint.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Warnings: language. foreplay, descriptions of unprotected sex, dirty talk, object insertion, cum eating, creampie.

Words: 10k

Summary: Yoongi needs to relax and Hoseok has many tricks up his sleeve to make him. None of them Yoongi thought included hiring a hooker to pay him a visit one stormy night.

You were only trying to escape a crazed man chasing you down on a stormy night. Never was your intention to end up in an attractive man’s house. Definitely not one who thought you were a hooker.

a/n: i read a little novella like this a while ago but it was about vampires. I cannot remember the name but here is my twist on it kwhduebgjswbvhw. enjoy. Plz validate me with comments thank u.

(he’s adorable omg)

“You really need to take a break Yoongi,”

“I’m fine,” he may be able to fool himself in to thinking he’s fine just because there isn’t any immediate struggle, his mental state was far from it. Still, didn’t stop Hoseok from barging in his office like he owned it – he only owned part of it – and demanding that Yoongi take a rest.

“no you’re not. You’re so damn bitchy all the time. Take a damn break. This isn’t a case of working hard to make it somewhere in life. You own the fucking company.”

“I’m a Partner. Not the actual owner.” Hoseok is waving his dismissal as he crosses his ankles on Yoongi’s desk.

“Same shit. You’ll be the sole partner in a few more years if you keep going at this speed. It’ll be MinKim Inc than just Kim.”

That was the goal, yes. Currently, Kim Seokjin, Yoongi’s close friend, was the heir to the corporation.

“You’re a partner here too you little shit.” There is no point in trying to kick his Italian loafer clad feet off because he just crosses them over the desk again.

“Yes but at least I’m not slaving over at my office to acquire more of it. All good things come in time.”

“Exactly. So leave me alone, I’ll have my rest when it’s time.” He had emails to respond to and his head had already started pounding. He was so damn tired all the time despite sleeping at least 7 hours. What use was there to sleep anymore if it didn’t provide the relief he needed?

“Bro you’re really fucking things up for yourself. You need to get laid.”

This makes Yoongi snort as he continues typing. Hoping Hoseok didn’t notice how his finger halted for a quarter of a second before he kept typing.

“I did. Or tried to, I guess.” Hoseok’s eyes have widened like saucers for some reason. Always so dramatic.

“Wait, by any chance… was it with Mina?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi’s eyebrows drop in to a furrow at his question like this was some sort of mystery he was about to solve. But Hoseok just sits back with a ‘thump’ before breaking in to fits of laughter like he couldn’t believe it.

“So it’s true. Damn. I really didn’t think she was telling the truth.” Now he had Yoongi’s full attention.

“Who?” Abandoning his email, he turns to Hoseok’s still shaking frame.

“Mina. That’s who. Do you have any idea what tales that tattle tale has been telling about you lately?”

“No. And I don’t care.” Women tended to exaggerate things.

“Oh but you should, brother. Apparently you can’t get it up. And now I know she wasn’t lying about everything.”

“What?! What the fuck? Has she been mouthing off about me like that?” There is an ever present annoying, self-satisfied smirk on Hoseok’s face. But Yoongi couldn’t care less. His manhood was at stake.

“Got your attention didn’t I? Yes sir. At the lounge yesterday she seemed rather devastated. Did you really not show her a good time?”

“Well,” Yoongi tried to salvage his brain for some plausible explanation. But it was true. Mina was one of the sexiest women in his circle and yet, last week he could not stay hard for the life of him. “In my defence, I got her off three fucking times with my damn mouth. Ungrateful.”

While Yoongi is shaking his head in disappointment, Hoseok seems to be rather occupied with something going on his little scheming head. “What? Why are you spacing out like that?”

“Just thinking. Has this been going on for a while?”

Snorting, Yoongi pushes off Hoseok’s feet for the hundredth time. “You’re not my therapist Hoseok. I’m sure I just need more,” Yoongi grits his teeth and swallows once, twice, just to get the words out, “rest. I’m not about to pop Viagra because one girl isn’t satisfied with not having my dick. Though I can understand her pouting.”

Yoongi was allowed to be cocky. His dick game was pretty good. You obviously need to have a reputation to actually save it.

“Hyung, you need both. You’ve been stuck in this office for months and you barely do anything exciting. When was the last time you went out just because you wanted to let off some steam?”

The bastard knew the answer and just wanted to humiliate Yoongi. So he stays silent, watching Hoseok as he straightens up.

“At least you got your feet off my damn table.” Yoongi mumbles to himself, hoping he’ll drop it. No such luck.

“You know the reason you can’t even enjoy the simple things in life anymore is because you don’t even go have a meal at a restaurant just to have an enjoyable evening anymore. Remember when we used to have lunch at the Shaw’s every week?”

Those were good times. It was fun, that’s what Yoongi remembers.

“You want Hyung to take you out on a date? Is that it?” Yoongi’s little jab at humour doesn’t faze Hoseok as he continues to stare down the elder. Which Yoongi would smack him for any other time but this time, he was right. Hoseok only said it all because he cared about him.

“Well, it has been a while since I ate something other than takeout in my office….” Leaning back in his chair, Yoongi can’t help but let out a groan as his muscles get a break from their punishing position that Yoongi kept them in to stay alert and focused.

“Great!” Hoseok has all but switched from the utmost serious face he had been showing Yoongi and back to his chirpy self. It almost gave Yoongi whiplash. Something didn’t smell right with how quickly he was satisfied.

“Hoseok, what are you planning? I can tell you’re up to something.” Yoongi stares up at his retrieving figure, almost a dance to his step.

“Don’t be so vigilant hyung. We’ll just have dinner on Friday night and some drinks at the bar, that’s all.” His smile is too big for Yoongi to continue staring at him to sus him out. So he lets him go.

“Whatever, I’ll see you then.”

“Bye boss! I’ll see you Friday. Get ready to party baby. Whoo!” His loud scream is obnoxious and nothing out of character and Yoongi won’t lie; He’s sort of excited about Friday.

Maybe listening to Hoseok wasn’t such a bad idea. Not when Yoongi just had the best steak he’s had in years.

“Damn. This was good.” Hoseok is still dabbing at his mouth with the napkin while he just nods his agreement.

“See? I told you that you’d have fun. Plus, I know the chef here so you my brother, got a $400 steak for free,” He drops the napkin in front dramatically as if he’s won some medal.

“Yeah yeah, thanks for getting your hyung steak. Now let’s get out of here.” Yoongi is already up and brushing down his suit but Hoseok seems to be in no rush.

“No. We’re going to the bar, remember?”

“Really?” Yoongi doesn’t want to sound like he’s complaining since a night out is the most fun thing he’s done in a while where he hasn’t pretended to have fun. He genuinely felt more relaxed and almost looked forward to spending the weekend home. Or… trying. He’s never not worked on a weekend before.

“Yes. Now stop your whining and lets go.” Yoongi knew better than to argue with Hoseok. At least he didn’t have anything weird planned like Yoongi had thought earlier. There was no telling with Hoseok around.

“Two whiskeys please. Neat.” The bartender shoots Hoseok a nod before he starts pouring the drinks. Yoongi sweeps his gaze across the floor of the upscale bar. He couldn’t remember the last time he visited here with Hoseok or any other office friend really. But after a whole day of outings with his best friend, an amazing dinner and now this, he was starting to remember how much spontaneous fun he used to have. He wasn’t 21 anymore and going to clubs and spending his hard earned money on lap dancers wasn’t exactly his forte. But enjoying a top quality Whiskey definitely was.

“Feels good doesn’t it? Drinking in peace and not worrying about going somewhere tomorrow so you have to stay completely sober?” Hoseok’s grin has Yoongi relenting his facial muscles as well as he just nods.

“Yup. Thanks for today. It’s been a while since we came here, huh?”

“I’ve been here plenty hyung. Just not with you in a while so I have to admit, you’re probably the best company.”

“Well shit,” Yoongi can’t help but laugh, “Even better than that Irene chick?”

“Even better than her.” Both of them chuckling in unison, clinking their glasses. “Cheers.”

“Remember when we first came here?” That was all it took for Hoseok to start laughing uncontrollably.

The rumbling thunder was making you nervous. You were supposed to finish a bunch of file analysis today and submit it to your supervisor before you left. It was already well past 9pm and you still had three more manila folders to go through. There was no room for you to mess this up. You’d just been hired in their college graduate program, earning the position through the diligent work you’d done during your internship. It was rare that Kim Inc hired staff through their internships. They were merely a gateway platform for students to try and earn a position elsewhere with their name on the resumé. Which wasn’t difficult after having spent even a few weeks at the company.

Their reputation was nothing short of ruthless. Hard work took up a whole another meaning and you had discovered that yourself when more than once your colleagues had cried in the bathroom because of the pressure. It was a cutthroat business and your supervisors in each department you’d worked at had let you know exactly that. Still, the extremely work-orientated mannerisms of your superiors around you only pushed you to do better yourself. If you were on top of everything, the rewards were plenty. Only ones who couldn’t handle the pressure really felt like everything was unfair. Because that had been you at first. Now you knew better than to complain about the company that would help you pave the way for yourself. You needed this job to create a picture perfect record of your work ethics and achievements so you could one day work for yourself. One day at a time right?

Glancing at the clock however, the minutes were escaping you quicker than what you would’ve liked. You had recently been transferred to the materials department. Where all the products your company made were designed and their prototypes developed before being transferred to other departments. You’d been told too many horror stories about the head od department, Mr. Min, to act like this was just like any other job. His department was infamous for producing almost perfect prototypes that when they were sent to be assembled and polished, the other departments rarely had to do much else. And because of that efficiency and work ethic, Mr. Min was praised countless times a day by your superiors while the common employees were scared shitless of the guy. Though you’d never actually seen him in person, you believed when your supervisor, Ilhoon had told you to not be mistaken and slack off.

So here you were, slaving away at your desk, typing your analysis in to the computer furiously while trying to glance outside the massive glass walls at the same time. It seemed like it was going to rain heavily and your time was running out. It was almost 10pm and that was the deadline you’d set for yourself. You didn’t want to cut corners but you also didn’t want to push your luck with the storm. The offices were in the middle of the city while you lived in a more modest part of town so it would take you at least 30 minutes to get home on public transport. You’d just started working at your current job so you hadn’t been able to save much for a car when you always ended up spending your money on decorating your apartment.

“Crap.” Muttering all sorts of prayers under your breath, you finally start on the last report, just shy of 20 minutes until 10pm. Thankfully, your increased fervour to have everything finished before you left must have paid off – or maybe your prayers answered? – and you were running the report through the spell check before sending it to Ilhoon and scurrying out of the floor. As if sensing that you were just about to head home – the storm has all but started raging hard, raining mercilessly and swinging the trees in all directions with the force of the wind. Even the elevator lights were flickering occasionally.

You really needed to get a move on if you were to get home. Running in heels wasn’t your strong suit but you managed the best you could. Thankfully your skirt wasn’t a flowy one today but a more pencil shape so you wouldn’t have to worry about holding it down because of the ferocious wind. The security guard at the front door bids you good bye after asking you if you needed a taxi – which you stupidly declined. Too ambitious thinking you could make it to the bus on time. But that shouldn’t have been the only problem you should’ve thought about. At 10pm, there weren’t that many people using the buses as their preferred commute. And definitely on such a stormy night. Which meant that the only other person on the bus with you was a greasy looking man that looked older than he probably was because of his blackening teeth and matted down hair. His clothes weren’t faring well either but you still clung on to the tiniest bit of hope that he wanted nothing to do with you.

Of course that was stupid to think because ever since you’d gotten on, he had been staring. Did he really not have anyone else to bother tonight? You were starting to get nervous and somewhere deep down you knew he was waiting to get off where you were. And letting him know where you lived wasn’t something you were too keen on. To make matters worse, just 10 minutes in the ride – with many stops because of the traffic in the rain – the man had gotten up from his seat at the back and started walking towards you. Your heart was thumping loudly and the nervous edge was becoming sharper and sharper. Making you feel entrapped. But not just metaphorically when the man sits right behind you, not faltering with his eye contact.

Okay you needed to do something now. Maybe pretending to text will make him lose interest? If he knew there was someone who knew where you were right now he’d maybe leave you alone. Quickly, you rummage through your bag, taking out your cell phone from the bottom of it. The relief is short lived when you punch in your passcode and see that it only has 5% of battery left in it. You try not to look panicked, still glancing out the window to just see a bunch of pouring rain and the trees dancing in it. There was no time to preserve the battery, you just needed to look like you were conversing with someone.

It works fine for a few minutes until your phone gets stuck, making your heart drop when you sense the inevitable. Just after a few seconds, it shuts off completely and right then, from the corner of your eyes, you can see the man watching your downfall. He’s been on the bus for god knows how long and now that he’s been watching you for the last 15 minutes, there is no way this is just a coincidence. He was following you. Without thinking, your panicky brain has decided that you needed to get off and maybe catch the bus after this. You could wait on the bus stop until the next one arrived which shouldn’t be too long but at least there was a chance of more people being present on the bus. Or not at all. You didn’t care as long as you were away from the foul smelling man sitting right behind you.

“Hey there pretty woman. You headed to Marsden Park too?” The beating of your heart was so loud in your ears after hearing the familiar name of your suburb that you wanted to jump out right that instant. It’s then you realise he’s seen the name of the suburb on your ticket and definitely knew where you were going.

“N-No. I’m going to see a f-friend.” Without wasting anymore time, you’ve pressed the stop button on the bus, getting off at the next stop. Surely you weren’t too far off from your suburb? You’d been in the bus for ages you must be a little far from the city. To your total and utter dismay, you haven’t even left the area that qualifies as the actual city. All this time on the bus and you were stuck a mere few miles from your office?

However, you’ve been shaken out of your meltdown when you notice the same man you’ve been trying to avoid, get off the bus too. “Oh god, no.”

You’re walking fast, not even thinking about the fact that the rain is soaking you from top to bottom. You couldn’t exactly stay at the bus stop! He would probably rape and kill you right then. There was no sign of anyone else around. Especially since this neighbourhood seemed to be filled with endless number of mansions. You could hear his footsteps on the side walk as your heels clicked, the rain not drowning out its sound completely. Maybe you could just knock at one of the doors and someone would answer? But you knew it would be not in your favour since none of the houses had even the front porch light on. Were all these people dead? Why wasn’t anyone home damnit!

You glance back and see the man not too far behind and decide to cross the road. There was an intersection coming ahead so maybe you could dodge him by walking to one of the streets. At this point, you were soaked. Your blouse and skirt completely stuck to your body, making the fabric heavier and harder for you to walk in. Walking faster, you curse yourself for wearing heels. They practically gave away where you were heading! Looking back, you see the man stopped in his tracks, seemingly trying to tie his shoelaces and you see that as an opportunity to make a run for it. Quickly, you cross the road, heels clicking and alerting the man as he tries to get up and run after you. However an oncoming car right as you’ve crossed the road to a street filled with even bigger houses, races down the road, splashing water almost violently on to him and you can hear him yell.

“Motherfucking rich bastards! Fucking racing their fucking cars!” His voice is even more threatening and scary than you remember and your fight or flight instincts finally help you make a decision for the better. Reaching down you take off your heels, chucking them on the opposite side of the road towards the other street before you make a run inwards, hoping to find a house that will let you in and call your friend or police or something!

“Where are you bitch?! You can’t run away from me just yet pretty lady.” Bitch and pretty lady in the same sentence? If you weren’t scared to death you’d laugh at how much of a ladies man he is.

You must have thrown him off at least a little because his voice sounds a bit distant now. You take this as your que to try and find someone who actually lives here. God must have listened to your prayers as you see sliver of light filtering through from a house right towards the end of the road. You run like hell towards it, hoping and praying that someone is actually home. Another obstacle you didn’t think about was the fact that before getting to the front door, you would need to get past the security cameras. But it was a matter of your life at this point so you just keep running, coming to stop before what seems to be a CCTV camera and a touchscreen pad that shows you standing in front of it. There is an option to ring inside the house and you frantically try to press it. Or you think you pressed it? It’s all touchscreen and you assume that it must be able register a touch even through water.

Finally, a light turns on after your endless smashing on top of the ring button. The light is flashing right across your face, momentarily blinding you with its brightness.

“H-Hello?! Is anyone listening?! Help me, please!” You’re almost in tears at this point, glancing around you. Your voice had been loud and there was a very possible chance that the man chasing you could have heard.

“Do you not see the sign? No sales person.” A deep, lazy drawl comes through the speakers and you’re enraged. Did you look like you were here to sell something? You needed help!

Right on cue, you can see a figure walking fast inwards to the road. It was raining so hard you couldn’t even see properly. But all you cared about was getting inside somewhere safe. So swallowing your anger, you try to plead your way in.

“Please. Help me! Someone is following me.” Your eyes try to portray your desperation and fear. There was no part of you acting at this point as a sob escapes your lips that have started to tremble from the cooling temperature of your body. There is a silence for the next few seconds and you can’t help but look down. He wasn’t going to let you in, was he?

“Seriously? You want to leave now? At,” Hoseok makes a show of glancing down at his Piguet watch, “Half past 9?”

Yoongi doesn’t have time to argue with him. He felt deliciously tipsy from the Whiskey and wanted to relax in his massage chair at home, make some beats, play piano or whatever the fuck he pleased to do. He was on this ‘rest’ high and wanted to ride it as long as he could before his brain manipulated him into going back to work.

“Yup. Hyung had fun but now I need to get home. Enjoyed wasting time with you Hoseok.” He pats his back while Hoseok only shoves him playfully, muttering a ‘shut up’.

“I got this.” Hoseok had shouted him dinner, it was the least he could do for his best friend.

“Look at you. Taking care of me for once.”

“Don’t mention it. I know you’re poor right now.” Hoseok just rolls his eyes at Yoongi’s attempt at humour. Waiting to drop the bomb on him just as they’re both leaving the bar.

“Well, I’m not too mad. I’ll send your gift home then.” And there it was. Hoseok had been up to something. Yoongi knew it!

“What did you do, Hoseok? I swear to god if it-” Hoseok only pats Yoongi’s shoulder, winking in his direction.

“Relax. It’s just a little something to get you little guy stirring.”

“Fuck you there is nothing little about my dick.” He’s immediately ashamed at how juvenile that response was. Whiskey really turned down his inhibitions.

“Then enjoy the damsel in distress I’ve sent for you.” Yoongi shrugs off Hoseok’s hand off his shoulder. That little shit. Strippers again?

“Seriously? You’re sending me a stripper as a ‘gift’?” Yoongi just waits for his response, about to clock him so Hoseok just makes a run for his car as he shouts.

“This one is something else hyung. She’ll fix everything, trust me. Now have fun and you’re welcome!”

“Hoseok you dumbass! I wanted to relax not babysit a 20 year old that needs to pay her college fees!” No luck. Hoseok has already slipped in to his car as his driver takes off while Yoongi’s waits patiently.

“Would you like me to take you to a hotel, sir?” His staff knew him too well but glancing at the impending storm, Yoongi decides it’s probably best to head home in case she’s already waiting. Didn’t want a prostitute dying at his door. That will definitely crush any hopes he had of being a sole owner of the company.

He sighs, looking at his driver. “It’s alright. Take me home so I can at least have you drive her back since it might start raining.”

“Right away.”

The car ride is long and Yoongi is home even before the thunder starts. He lived close to work, in a more quieter neighbourhood to relax in peace. He had tried living in the heart of the city but it didn’t work out with the amount noise he lived in. Still thinking about what Hoseok had said and wanting to call him just to curse him out and hang up. There was no stripper or lap dancer or a damn prostitute out there that could fix his problem. He’d tried and it hadn’t worked. No point in humiliating himself even further. Mina going around town to spread the news about his failing genitals was enough. He just wanted to spend time by himself now. Sure, he might not be that old but his soul already felt like it. He just wanted to maybe watch TV or have a nap.

Damn, he really was that old. By now, the rain was in full swing. Thundering outside like no tomorrow. Turning on the sound system to some beats he’d worked on a few months back that suited just right with the weather, Yoongi exchanges his suit for a more comfortable cotton t-shirt and his lounge pants. His body was considerably toasty after the night cap and he was too relaxed to be worried about anything. Until there is a ring. Many rings to be exact. It’s like whoever was at the main gate had the patience of a five year old. Figures, if that’s the stripper. Because they were all rarely above 21.

He gets the call directly transferred to his phone and after a few rings, he picks up. Immediately, he can hear distressed breathing before the person speaks up. “H-Hello?! Is anyone listening?! Help me, please!”

It’s unmistakably a female voice. Particularly sounding like a damsel in distress – just the way Hoseok had described. Fucking hell, role play? Really? Whatever she was doing, she was selling it quite convincingly.

“Do you not see the sign? No sales person.” Yoongi felt a smidgen of regret when he said the words out loud on instinct. It wasn’t her fault that his best friend was a dumbass and decided to hire a hooker on the worst night of all. He could hear the thunder and the rain in the background and the way her next words were shaky and pleading, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

“Please. Help me! Someone is following me.”

Someone following her? That was creative, he’ll give her that. Sighing, Yoongi has to summon all the energy from each limb of his body to get up and walk towards the intercom after contemplating whether he should let her in or just send his driver to drive her home. Quickly, Yoongi hangs up before dialling Hoseok’s number. Which of course, goes straight to voicemail.

“Hoseok you asscrack. There is a girl very ‘distressed’ and claiming someone is ‘following her’. I don’t know whether to applaud you for finding someone who is half decent at acting or ring your neck the next time I see you, freak!”

He’s quickly hanging up, when he reaches the touchscreen intercom, pulling up the CCTV camera to see the person outside his house. Which is a big mistake. His original plan had been to send her straight home, already calling his driver – which he abruptly hangs up on. The woman on the other end looks nothing short of a wet dream. Literally. You’re soaked from the rain, your clothes cling to your frame enticingly and your bambi eyes are staring up at the camera so earnestly Yoongi wonders if this is what you’ll look like on your knees when you beg for him to let you have his cock.

Said cock twitches. Hardening so rapidly in his pants that he actually looks down like it’s the strangest thing. Yoongi almost forgets to open the main gate and finally notices you looking down as if defeated.

You really were good at acting out this role. It almost seemed real. Whatever it was that you were doing; it was working. Yoongi felt hot in his pants already and that was saying something.

“Come in.” He can see the sheer relief in your eyes as you mutter ‘thank you’ over and over. A few more seconds later, there is a knock at the front door. Yoongi walks towards it, hesitating before cracking the door open and finally facing his downfall.

There you were, clinging to yourself as your clothes dripped at his front porch, nipples poking through the fabric of your blouse as the skirt showcased the curve of your supple ass. Your teeth were clattering, shaking Yoongi out of his fantasies enough to let you in. Maybe Hoseok’s idea wasn’t that bad aftercall. He’d be smug about this. Bastard.

“M-May I?” Yoongi just steps to the side, making you stare at him for a little while longer before you walk past him and inside.

His reaction to your body was instant and scorching. He felt hot all over and all he wanted to do was lick the rain drops off your skin, hating the fact that you needed a towel so his furniture wasn’t ruined. Buying new furniture was a hassle.

You’re looking around his large living room like you’ve never seen anything like it before. And perhaps you hadn’t. He couldn’t of a strip club that looked like his house. It was a shame he was having this reaction to a hooker and not someone he was actually in a relationship with. But oh well. At least he’ll get laid tonight. Retrieving some towels from the guest bathroom, he walks back to the living room where you stood in the corner like a timid mouse, still clinging to yourself protectively.

“Here.” Yoongi clears his throat when his words come out too gruff. He needed to top acting like a damn virgin. You grab the fluffy towel from him with the smallest, prettiest hands he’d ever seen. They’d look even smaller with his in them. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to have you. You needed to hurry up before he prematurely ejaculated in his pants.

“T-Thank you. I really appreciate y-your help. I won’t stay long. Just until the storm subsides.”

Wow, you were really going to play the game to completion, huh? Every expression, every nervous shuffle of your feet was so genuine he couldn’t even tell that this was all some sort of play. Hoseok probably had you dropped off outside his house. But no worries, he’ll play along with you.

Yoongi can’t help the smirk that fights its way across his mouth, body buzzing and mind more stimulated than ever. “I’ll get you some clothes, how about that?”

Your head shoots up at his voice, watching his mouth move as he tilts his head backwards, gesturing towards where his room was probably.

“Oh uh… T-Thank you.” You could use some warm clothes. It was starting to get frosty in these cold, wet clothes.

Yoongi has to adjust himself as he walks back to his room, shaking his head at the prospect of playing along to whatever script you were following. But enough games. He needed to have you soon. Taking a white shirt like the one he wore, he noticed the length of it should cover your bottom too. He walks back to the living room where you stood drying your hair with the towel.

It looked so silky and inviting. Inviting his hands to thread through it and grab a hold of it until he brought your mouth down to thrust his cock in to. Fuck he was so hard. You don’t seem to notice his state though. Or you’re amazing at playing innocent. You must be a pro then. Having done this many times. But he tried to keep the inner monologue to a minimum as he hands you the shirt, never wavering his gaze from your body.

You bow towards him in gratitude, keeping your gaze lowered unlike his. “T-Thank you.”

Your pretty hands grab the garment from his hands, noticing the obvious lack of pants but you try not to show it.

What the hell was happening? How did you stumble upon a mansion that apparently belonged to the most handsome man you’d laid your eyes on in a while? And why was this hot, sort of kind, stranger just handing you a shirt? You didn’t want to come off as ungrateful to someone who’d let a complete stranger in their house.

But the way he looked at you, with such carnal lust, had you feeling dizzy. Why did he look at you like he expected something? Your body was warming up considerably whenever you took a chance to look up and see him staring you down like he wanted to eat you. There was no way your hot mess self looked attractive to this man, right? Your hair was a mess, your clothes were sticking to you unattractively and you were shivering still. The inside of his house was definitely warm. But you needed to get warmer. So you had no choice but to at least change your shirt.

He continues to kneel against the wall, inspecting you like you were a puzzle to be solved when it should be the other way around. “Um, do you have p-pants?”

What a stupid question to ask. Of course he did! But it was too late. He was already looking away, obviously trying to hide a smile and you curse yourself inside your head. “All in the wash, sorry.”

And that’s it. He nonchalantly shrugs, pursing his lips like he’s sorry while appearing to be completely non-apologetic.

Yes you’ve walked in to a complete strangers house. You didn’t even ask his name. But somehow, you didn’t feel the creeping fear that you had in the bus. In fact, you almost felt… relaxed. Not scared, just shy. Not every day you meet men as handsome as him.

“O-Okay. I’ll just change-”

“Here. I’ll turn my back.” He takes his sweet time, turning around and ever passing second makes your body temperature climb higher. Why weren’t you running out of the door? You’ll probably die of pneumonia outside so might as well stay here.

You turn yourself around as well, not about to give him a show even if he was looking away. You make haste of your blouse and bra, rolling them in a pile before slipping on the white cotton shirt – that was the softest thing you’d felt, by the way. When the shirt falls below your butt, you decide you can take off the skirt as well and just wrap the towel around your waist. Just when you discard the skirt on to the pile of clothes, you hear him speak up.

“You’re good.” A beautiful, deep chuckle follows his remark and you can’t help but spin around to face him – and he’s leaning against the wall like previously, staring straight at you.

“E-Excuse me?” What was he talking about?

Stalking forward slowly, he doesn’t stop until he’s only a mere metres away from you. “No one has been able to get me this worked up in a while.”

His breath caresses your cheeks with each whisper and you’re so enchanted you don’t even thin to question whatever the hell he’s talking about. Though you’re standing only in a think white t-shirt in front of him, hair wet and soaking through your t-shirt – your body felt like it was on fire. A nervous excitement ran through your shivering frame and you weren’t even sure if it was from the cold or just him. Your nipples had pebbled even harder at his close proximity.

Suddenly, his hand had slid around your waist, gripping it tight while the other cupped your cheek. “I’ll thank Hoseok later for you. Right now I need you.”

“W-What? Who-” You don’t get an answer but you do get his tongue. Forcing it’s way in your mouth, hot and searing. The moan that leaves you is involuntary and you curse your body for giving in to a stranger so quick. Why were you even letting this man kiss you? Did he mistake you for someone else? That must be it. You had no idea who this Hoseok was. But not all of it is his fault when you’re not even trying hard enough to break away from his mouth. He’s pulling your mouth in deep kisses. Kissing you until you feel light-headed and breathless and only then does he break away to let you breathe.

“S-Sir I’m not-” But he only interrupts you before covering your mouth with his own again.

“Call me Yoongi baby.” Yoongi. Why did that sound familiar? You didn’t have the brain capacity to think about anything other than his mouth right now. His hand on your waist had pressed you even tighter against his frame that you could feel every ridge, every curve on him. That also meant the impossibly hard cock that protruded heavily between his legs, pressing against your lower stomach. Due to your not so large of a height difference, you could almost feel him pressed right to your center.

His hand cupping your face was roaming all over your body, down your sides, across your chest to fondle your nipples and making you arch your back further in to him. It took you ages to warm up while it only took Yoongi a few kisses. He finally breaks away, only to pick you up by the waist and walking towards the couch to sit, making you straddle his waist. Thank god you still had your panties on because if your sensitive clit felt even an ounce of friction from his sweatpants, you would cum right on the spot.

“I’m n-not who you think I might- oh.” Your mouth falls open in a silent scream when Yoongi starts to move your hips on to his erection – slowly torturing you to your end.

“And I’m not usually this hard from just a kiss baby. No need to play games anymore. I’ll be taking everything you’re here to give.”

You don’t even know what he means anymore but the way he growls out his words has you shaking from nervous excitement. And this time, your fear isn’t for your life but for your lady parts. This man looked beyond even his own control and you don’t know what he thinks you’re here to give him. But you might just be willing to give him everything when he rolls his hips up in to yours, his hard length nudging squarely on your clit making you shout.

“Yoongi!”

“That’s it, y/n. There you go baby.” You’re too far gone to even question how he knows your name. You’re only trying to hold on to your sanity or what’s left of it as he batters your clit each time he pushes you down while simultaneously pushing his cock up.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard you’ll forget all the other men.” You’d only had one boyfriend in college, so you’re not sure what men he’s referring to but you don’t care. You’d be whoever he wants at this point if he’s going to make you cum.

“Ah Y-Yoongi, I’m g-going to cum.” You’ve started to push down on him, chasing your own high as your mouth falls permanently open while tears sting your eyes at how intense the sensations are. It really is different when someone else makes you cum. This definitely wasn’t anything like your own hand.

“Then cum. Soak my lap and show me what a dirty girl you are. Want you squirting over my cock.” His filthy mouth was your downfall and you were throwing your head back in no time as you screamed out your climax. Riding the waves as Yoongi continued to grind his cock in your pussy long after the aftershocks pass, making you a twitching mess on top of him.

“O-Oh,” you’re flinching away when the sensations become too much and yet, Yoongi doesn’t let up. Slipping his hand inside your panties to lewdly rub them over your cum soaked labia, spreading it even more.

“Look at that. You’re so wet. You came so much baby.” Yoongi’s voice is low and he stares at your face that’s staring down at his hands inside your underwear. It doesn’t help that his arms are incredibly veiny, pushed in your tiny panties. When he slips his fingers between your pussy lips and runs the pad of his thumb over your entrance – you both hiss. You from the sensitivity and him for entirely different reasons. He almost seems angry. Infuriated at what he finds.

“Your pussy is so tiny. Fuck. Tell me how am I going to fit in there, hm?” You can’t do anything but cry out through your tears when he slips two fingers in from the get go. Squelching noises sound obscenely as he scissors your pussy with his index and middle finger. You’re so wet you’re making a visible mess on him, staining his sweatpants further.

“At least you’re wet enough so I can slide my cock in without worrying about tearing your little pussy up.” He’s gritting out between clenched teeth, jolting your body with each thrust of his hand. Your shaking frame is anchored to Yoongi by your hand fisted in his own shirt while the other slips down to try and get a feel of him. Beneath you, he felt so mouth-wateringly hard but you needed to cop a real feel of him. To which he swatted your hands away.

“You’ll get to feel plenty of my cock sweetheart. Be patient for now.” And you just whined at his scolding. Not being able to wait in order to feel his cock inside you. Your entrance clenched every time you even thought about having him inside and each time, Yoongi gave a loud spanking to your ass for trying to lock his fingers out.

“I-I just need you so bad.” You’re bordering at desperation with the way you whine and plead with him. Moving your hips with each thrust of his digits. “Fuck. Oh god.”

Your head is thrown back, your mouth is open as you pant without shame, nearing your orgasm again. But Yoongi jolts your body in surprise when he takes in your hardened nipple between his teeth before sucking on it worshipfully right through it. You must look like a picture out of a porno magazine as you continue to shout with your head throat back, having your pussy fingered like no tomorrow and now – Yoongi sucking on your tits through your shirt, patching it with wet spots of his saliva.

“Ah, ah, ah,” A symphony of high pitched moans – uncontrollable in your defence – fall from your lips as you stand at the edge of your peak, right there. You needed no more than a mere few seconds to reach that blissful high again. Until it’s ripped brutally from you with a loud squelch.

“Fuck… look at that.” You’re trying to gather your breath while from you peripheral vision, you can see admire his soaked hand. Your essence dripping down his wrists and your whole face warms up at the lewd image. You knew you got a little too wet. The brat in you wanted to cum and she claws at Yoongi’s shirt as you whine your protest.

“You can’t even catch your breath and you’re complaining about wanting to cum? Filthy, nasty girl.” His growling only makes you wetter, didn’t he notice?

Or maybe that’s why he does it. Who knows.

Your face is buried in his neck, trying to catch your breath as your pussy continuously clenches, so swollen and ready to cum again that you don’t notice the skinny perfume bottle he’d grabbed from your bag that was on the couch. What was he doing with that.

“Lean back, y/n.” You muster up all your energy, pulling away from the warm crevice of his neck and leaning back until you notice the predatory glaze over his eyes. Yoongi watches you shift backwards on his lap, glancing at the perfume bottle in his hand and then back to his face.

He brings your head forward to push his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you in a sloppy, hot mess before pulling back. “Open.”

Without question, you open your mouth before he shoves the cold perfume bottle inside your mouth. “Hmphf.”

Immediately, you moan and lick around it, making it wet with your saliva. Almost sensing what he was about to do. And you’re right in your suspicions when Yoongi pulls the object out of your mouth and pushes it between your labia to coat it in your sticky arousal.

“So damn wet. You’re leaking like a broken fucking tap y/n. Do I turn you on his much.” You just moan out your reply as he massages all around your sensitive pussy with the object. Right before he pushes the object the length of his hand, inside your clenching pussy.

“Yoongi, oh god. P-Please fuck me. I need you so bad oh god.” Your begging had started already and he hadn’t even pushed the bottle all the way inside you. The cool glass bottle felt so nice against your burning hot skin. And when Yoongi pulled it out just to thrust it back in, you felt the tears escape the corner of your eyes from the sheer pleasure. The bottle was thicker than his two fingers and the slight burn of the stretch had you gasping.

“And you will have me baby. I just need to stretch your pussy out. You don’t want Oppa to tear your pussy now do you, hm?” Oh you wanted that so much. But you could only look down at his vascular hand working in object is and out of your squelching pussy. His lap was almost soaked all the way through with how much you were dripping on him. Even while insanely hard beneath you, Yoongi possessed such control over his own desires that it made him that much more attractive to you. You couldn’t believe he was holding out this long.

“I-I wa-ah-ant oppa to fuck me, please.” Tears were stinging your eyes again and you had lost any semblance of shame. With shaking hands, you took off the cotton shirt, baring your breasts to his eyes as you thrusted them in his face. Hoping to entice him in to ending this torture.

And it seemed to have worked when he shoves the bottle all the way up your pussy before growling at you again. “Get on your knees.”

Your legs were jello but you weren’t about to pass up on the opportunity to taste him just like he was tasting you. Licking up your slick from his fingers and his wrist. Quickly, you slid down to your knees like shapeless matter, plopping down as he watched you.

“Take off my pants baby. Get me ready for your little pussy.”

With trembling hands, you take off his sweatpants, eyes bulging out of your head at the sheer sizeable girth of him. How did he contain that monster? Even just in the sweatpants? He looked painfully hard and you felt bad for having all the attention on you. This couldn’t be pleasant for him, waiting out this long.

“Go on, baby. Get me nice and wet like your pussy.” One thing was definite – his dirty talk had you acting more depraved than you ever had before with someone. You were never the one so readily and brazenly sinking to your knees to in turn sink your mouth down someone’s cock.

Him forgoing underwear was the best discovery because now you could go straight to stuffing your mouth full of his cock. Which you do. Licking from the bottom to the top like some icicle, you wet him thoroughly with your saliva before attempting to sink down on his length. Yoongi was started to breathe heavy, threading his fingers in your hair to slowly guide you over him all the while he cursed under his breath about how hot you looked.

“Fuck, I want to cum all over your pretty face, your tits, over your pussy, in your pussy.” He looked like he was losing control with each word that slipped his mouth, watching you moan around his length while you grasped the base that didn’t go in to your mouth. Yoongi clearly didn’t seem happy since he grabbed your hair in a tight hold, pulling you back from his cock – only to slam you down, filled to the brim until your nose rested against his pelvis.

“Fuck. Yes. Just a little bit baby. Let me fuck for mouth just a l-little.”

All you could do was hold on to his thighs for support as he thrusted his hips in to your mouth over and over. His pace pushing your body back each time he thrusted forward, making the bottle of perfume still inside your pussy, rub against your falls. You well clenching so hard on to the object, trying to move on it to get some sort of relief.

“Don’t. You better not cum unless it’s on my cock. Do you understand?” He doesn’t give you time to respond as he keeps assaulting your mouth – filling it with pre-cum each time he pulls back.

After a few more minutes and a lot of crying – Yoongi finally takes mercy on you, pulling his cock out of your mouth with an obscene ‘pop’. His cock is just as red and angry and your pussy is even more wet. You’re sitting on the floor, legs spread with the bottle of perfume shoved deep inside your pussy. Yoongi takes in your form, cursing under his breath as he looks you over, again and again.

“Come here y/n.” You pull yourself up, shakily getting on the couch where Yoongi lays you down before hovering his body over you.

“I’m going to fuck you until I cum inside your little pussy and have it flowing with my cum so good. Is that okay baby? That I fill you with so much cum your belly swells up? I don’t think there is another option.”

He says it all while looking you dead in the eyes like he’s helpless. Rubbing his cockhead on your enflamed pussy lips. He glances down once before pulling out the perfume bottle with a ‘pop.’ You’re breathing heavy and feel like you might hyperventilate. The anticipation so much for you to handle you wanted to reach down and shove him in already.

Just when you’re about to whine again, Yoongi pushes inside shallowly, fucking only his head inside your clenching entrance in short strokes.

“Yoongi,” you whine like a spoiled brat, “Fuck me already. I’ll d-die without your cock. I need it.” You’re clawing at him again, trying to take off his shirt. Which he does thankfully, chuckling at your desperate behaviour.

“I might need you around more often. Just so you can beg for my cock looking at pretty and pink. So fucked out you probably don’t even know what to do with yourself.”

He needed to shut up and screw you already!

He’s only pushing the head of his cock inside before pulling it out and shoving it back in again. And somehow even that has you so close to cumming you need to bite Yoongi’s shoulder to stop yourself from finishing before the main event. Finally, after what felt like eternity, Yoongi stops torturing you both and pushes himself rest of the way in.

“Oh fucking hell.” He’s glancing down at your enjoined bodied like he can’t believe what he’s feeling.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to go slow babe. Your pussy is too good. Fuck I want to fuck the shit out of you.” And he does exactly that.

You can’t even scream as your mouth falls open when Yoongi starts to set a pounding rhythm. Slamming his hips in to yours that his cock nestles deep inside, tickling that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck yeah. Your pussy is weeping for me baby. You ever felt this good before?” You shake your head frantically, a sob falling free from your lips as you make the first sound since Yoongi started pistoning his hips inside you.

It felt like your pussy was made for his cock. Moulding so perfectly to every ridge and every vein as his naked skin slapped against your ass. Yoongi hikes your legs over his shoulders, almost folding you in half while pinning your hands above your head, completely trapping you. Not that you were going to run away. You could barely moan, only whimpering and sobbing as his cock continued to batter your core over and over.

“Is baby crying because it feels so good? Hm? You want my cock in your cunt forever?”

You nod, hiccupping with every word and every thrust, “ F-Forever-a-and e-ever.”

Yoongi coos at your wet face and contorting face as grinds his hips to hit a different angle inside you, making you scream.

“Then be a good girl and milk Oppa’s cock for all its cum. Come on. Cum and make me cum.”

His words make your pussy clench around him involuntarily, making him curse under his breath. Suddenly, his pace gets even faster, slamming his cock inside you in quick thrusts, battering that one spot over and over as all sound leaves you.

“Right there baby? Fuck you right there?” Your body arches and responds for you. A couple of more rapid slams later, you’re consumed by such intense pressure that finally erupts – it blacks you out for a second.

“Fuck, yes. Squirt for Oppa. All over his cock.” You realise what’s happening and realise it hasn’t stopped yet. You’re still cumming on to his cock, gripping him tight that Yoongi is faltering in his pace.

“Shit. You’re going to make me c-cum light that. Oh god.” Your orgasm is finally subsiding and your vision is clearing enough that you muster all your strength and clench around his cock before pushing yourself up on to it – making the fit even tighter that Yoongi is cumming on the spot.

“Fuck!” The sensations of his orgasm kick start his ministrations again, slamming his cock in you a few more times before his body collapses on top of you. He’d cum so much inside you that you could feel it trickle out around his length.

Both of you are panting hard. Bodies shaking while you hold on for dear life by hanging on to Yoongi. He seems so exhausted as he nuzzles his head in your breasts, hands wrapped around your waist as he pushes himself to the side so he isn’t crushing you. As he pulls out of you, you can see the white ring around the base of his cock that formed after he fucked in to you as he came, making your face heat up so much you thought you would catch on fire. Yoongi had seen it too and he only dips his fingers in the mess leaking from you before bringing it up and smearing it all over your nipples. You watch him as he leans down, softly taking the cum covered tit in his mouth before sucking it slowly. When you’re thoroughly clean, he sends you a mischievous smile before laying besides you.

It’s a comfortable silence and you’re just revelling in the post coital bliss until he speaks up and asks you a bizarre question. “So, what’s your real name?”

You just turn to face him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Y/n. That is my real name.”

When he continues to stare at you, you ask him a question of your own. “Who exactly do you think… am I?”

Yoongi turns to face you completely. Looking very much intrigued. “A… woman who was sent to service me by Hoseok?”

Trying to hold in your laughter, you try to respond. You should be angry really but the way his lips are set in a pout and he’s inspecting your face like he’s so utterly confused is the most adorable thing – and a vast contrast from the man who just fucked your brains out.

“I don’t know who that is. You have me confused with someone else.”

“So…. You really were being chased last night?” A grim look has taken over his features and without thinking, you slip your hand in to his own before you answer.

“I believe so. This grotty old man followed me all the way down to this street. But thanks to you I’m okay.”

You might be playing down the incident that had you sobbing and running across the street but really, you were safe and you had met Yoongi. You couldn’t be mad even if you tried to. Yoongi on the other hand, is already on the phone with someone.

“Yong-Chol, please have the street cams pulled and find any trace of a man running after a young woman last night around 10pm.” He hangs up right after.

“I’m fine! You don’ have to do this.” Gripping his face, you peck his lips shyly – not sure if he wanted you to do that when he thought you were a Hooker not even ten minutes ago.

Thankfully he just grabs your hands in his before kissing your fingertips.

“I know. I want to. Frankly I want to wring that bastard’s neck for making you so upset.” Your heart was bleeding at how sweet he was. “Speaking of wringing, I need to make a call.”

You just law on the comfortable couch, still entangled with him as he calls Hoseok. Who picks up almost immediately.

“Hyung! Finally you picked up.”

“Hello to you too.”

“So uh… who did you exactly fuck last night? Because Leeane never made it.”

Yoongi can’t help but snort as he looks at you when he answers. “I figured. And who I’m with is none of your business. Now leave me alone. It’s my day off.”

“Damn hyung. I love it-” Yoongi just hangs up, rolling over to your side.

“So… I know I’m doing this backwards but, let’s go on a date on Monday? What do you say?”

Crap. You had to be at work extra early in the morning to be present at the analysis presentation of your entire department to the head, Mr. Min.

“I can’t,” you wrap your arms around his lithe torso as he does the same. “I have to be at this big meeting that we have where we present our work to our apparently big, meanie of a boss.” You pout for effect and Yoongi just pecks your lips.

“Where do you work baby?” The nickname has you blushing again and Yoongi just chuckles.

“Kim Inc.”

There is a silence so profound you wonder if you said the wrong thing. Until Yoongi breaks out in to the most beautiful, body consuming laugh.

“I’ll have a word with your big, mean boss. Come here.”

He just pulls you in another breathtaking kiss while you’re just wondering…. How?

Oh how naïve you were.

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #yoongi x reader #hobiwonder #hope you guys like my gift for u fore id :DDD

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