#this is about both the repeated hits here as well as just. me with school ldghfksjghdkjsgl when will we know peace

[dodgebolts]

this is what the last year has been like a little bit

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[loserboysandlithium]

Fantasy: Eddie x reader x Billy

Part one, part two, part three, part four

Four part mini series. Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content

Summary: Your boyfriend, Eddie Munson, asks you what your biggest fantasy is and you're hesitant to tell him. Will he allow it to come true?

You were laying on the floor of your apartment in a big t-shirt and panties, staring up at the ceiling.

"This shit is strong, Eds." you sigh, exhaling the smoke into the air.

He leans over and kisses your cheek before stealing the joint for himself.

Eddie Munson. Your boyfriend of four years now. You had met in High School. Started with flirty glances here and there and ended up with the two of you in his van every lunch period.

"Biggest fantasy. Go!" Eddie blurts as he grins over at you.

"Sexual?"

"Duh."

"I don't know." you lie, hoping he can't see your face turning red with the dim lighting.

"There's gotta be something." he scoots closer as he takes another hit.

"I don't know." you repeat, shrugging lightly, the topic making you slightly uncomfortable.

"Anything. Some secret fantasy. You always take care of me, baby." he drawls as he leans over and plants a soft kiss on your lips.

The two of you loved to experiment. He was right.. you've done basically anything he could want at this point.

You've watched him while he had sex with someone else. You've brought other girls home. Threesomes, foursomes. Toys, movies, role play, rough sex, extremely rough sex.

And you enjoyed every minute of it. It was fun for both of you. But now he was asking what you wanted. And it made you a little nervous.

My desire. My fantasy.

I did have a fantasy.. but he won't like it.

You shrug again and he rolls over on top of you. You feel the warmth of his body weight pressing against you. His curls tickling your cheek as they fall forward, framing your face. He moves to kiss your neck before his warm lips meet your ear.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it is." he whispers deeply, his breath sending tingles across your entire body.

Billy Hargrove.

Eddie was never a fan of him in school. But it was something you had thought about for a long time. You had craved him back then before you and Eddie got together. And sometimes.. sometimes you still did.

But you wanted them both. Together.

"You won't like it." you sigh as he kisses your neck again. His lips begin to suck a small mark as his fingers trail up and down your arm lightly. His touch soft and sweet. Your high making it feel even better.

"Try me." he mumbles into your neck.

"It's a threesome.." you start and a deep chuckle erupts from his chest immediately.

"Why wouldn't I like that?" he laughs as he sits up, pulling you with him. You straddle his lap and look into his deep brown eyes.

You lean down to kiss his lips softly as his hands rest heavily on your ass.

"It's not the what, it's the who." you hint as you place your hands on his shoulders. His eyes narrow a bit and you take a deep breath. Just spit it out.

"Billy." you finally manage and Eddie gives you a blank stare.

"Who?"

"Billy... you know.."

Eddie continues to stare at you, his expression unreadable. "As in Hargrove?" he deadpans.

You nod slightly and as you take a piece of his long hair, twirling it between your fingers.

"You want me to have a threesome with Billy Hargrove?" Eddie stares at you in shock, his lips parted, his already big eyes widening even more.

You roll your eyes as you go to climb off his lap but he pulls you back instantly, his large hands keeping a firm grip on your waist.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it." you groan and his eyes search your face carefully.

"Baby, I just.. I need to process for a second." he sighs deeply. You watch him as his face changes from stunned back to semi normal.

"That's your big fantasy, huh? Billy Hargrove?"

You nod again as you feel a blush creep over your cheeks.

"He is... well I guess he's alright." Eddie starts. "If you're into all those muscles and abs and bad boy stuff.. and well his eyes are nice.. very blue..."

"Eddie?" you interrupt with a giggle.

"Hmm.. sorry." He shakes his head and leans in closer.

"What makes you think he would even do it?" Eddie asks and you feel an excitement building in your stomach.

He's not saying no.

You run your finger down his jawline softly, feeling the light scruff under your fingertips. "I don't know if he will. But you asked for my biggest fantasy.. and now you know." Your hand makes its way to the back of his neck, pulling him close and kissing him hard.

His tongue slips in your mouth and you wrap your legs around his waist as he leans back down, laying you flat on the ground. He pulls away, resting his lips against yours.

"You would have a better chance of fucking him alone." Eddie murmurs, his lips tickling yours as he speaks.

"But I want you both." you whisper back and his plump lips meet yours again before moving to your neck once more. Your head falls back against the soft carpet as he nips and sucks on your soft skin.

"You want us both?" he burns against your neck as his hand creeps up your thigh.

"Yes." you breathe, his calloused fingers traveling slowly to where you need them the most.

"You want him to fuck you while I watch? That could be fun." Eddie's voice is low in your ear. A deep tone making your thighs clench.

"Yes.." you sigh as his fingers finally reach their destination, swiftly moving your panties to the side. He slips one finger into your warmth, feeling your excitement immediately.

"Oh fuck. You do want him don't you? You want to know what he feels like inside of you?" Eddie teases as he adds another finger, slipping them both in knuckle deep.

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he begins to move his fingers, sliding them in and out of your already soaked pussy.

"Yes, baby." you admit, a needy moan slipping from your lips.

"Mmm.. you're a bad girl, sweetheart. If you're this turned on already... I might have to let him fuck you." Eddie growls as his fingers slowly pump in and out.

"Eddiee.." you whine, grinding your hips against his hand. It never takes long for you to cum on his hand. His fingers are fucking magic.

"Tell me what else you want." Eddie says nibbling on your ear. He speeds up even more bringing you closer and closer as he fucks you with his hand.

You feel your body tense up.. you're already so close. His fingers curl perfectly, stroking your g spot every time. "I want... fuck, Eddie.."

You struggle to speak as his fingers begin to move faster. Rougher. The sound of your slick coating his hand only makes him increase his speed.

"Say it." he orders.

"I want.. oh fuck.. I want you both." you whimper, listening to the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out. The sound of his palm slapping against your pussy.

"You want both of us inside of you? Is that it?" Eddie hisses as his hand continues pushing you closer and closer.

"Yes!" you cry.

"You wanna be a little slut? It might hurt baby, you sure you want that?" his fingers are moving at an insane pace now. Your body jerks with every thrust of his hand.

"Yes!" you cry out again and he moans deeply.

"We're gonna fuck you so hard.. you want us to destroy you, don't you? You want us to destroy that pussy?" Eddie chuckles as you squirm beneath him.

"Yes!”

“And that tight little ass, hm?” Eddie groans as his other hand comes to your clit, swiping rapidly.

“Baby, yes! Fuck please!" you squeal as you feel your muscles spasm around his fingers. The thought of them both inside of you sending you completely over the edge. Your back arches off the floor as you cum hard, your juices coating his hand entirely.

Eddie works you through your orgasm slowly. A filthy moan escapes his lips as he watches your body shudder under him. You struggle to calm your breathing as your back falls to the floor.

He hooks his arm under you and lifts you up to meet his eyes.

"Find him. Set it up." he says simply before kissing you once and walking away.

Holy shit.

Tag list: @gri959 @flory-alexandra @livinnadaydream @anakinsbbgirl @watermeezer @theyellowhaunt @nailbatanddungeon @mugloversonly @bunnyhargrove @ali-r3n @eddiestans-blog @alesiaaa

Part two coming soon. 🤭

Divider by @strangergraphics 🖤

[xo-cori]

it’s all a game to me anyway

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: pining after athletes is never a good idea. that is, unless you’re good at getting your way.

warnings: smut (MDNI), hockey!abby, reader is lowkey a womanizer, choking, the knee thing™, thigh riding, power dynamic switcharoo, no aftercare but in a hot way

a/n: inspired by “music to watch boys to” by mother lana 🙏 if you’re a buff girl named abby anderson who plays hockey pls hit my line immediately. also read pt 2 here!!

“How’d you get in here?”

In any other scenario, her tone would’ve offended you. At least, you would’ve pretended it did. But this is a very special case; you’ve got Abby exactly where you want her, only because you know she feels the same.

It all started a few months ago during your first week of college. You’d developed a reputation around the school pretty quickly– you tend to pick girls up for a night just to leave them in the dust. It’s fulfilling, until it isn’t. Until you move onto the next, getting better and better at pretending you’d fallen head over heels just to take someone to bed. Now, just starting your second semester, you’d climbed up the social hierarchy pretty quickly, and you’ve been eyeing somebody in specific. After playing your tricks with half of her teammates, of course.

You stand in the empty locker room with her as she packs her bag. You can tell she’s fresh out of the shower and had just finished getting changed. You wonder if you could’ve sped this up by walking in a bit earlier.

“I snuck in,” you shrug. “Just noticed you never came out with your team– I wanted to say how sorry I am that you guys lost. You’re the captain, right? You could spread the message.”

Her eyes meet yours and she’s obviously unimpressed. “I could, but I won’t.” She quips.

You tilt your head. “How come?”

“Well, you’re… acquainted with most of them. Tell them yourself.” She says, setting her bag down on one of the benches so that she can face you. Her dirty blonde hair is still damp and, now that you think about it, this is the first time you’ve seen it out of that signature braid she always wears– and you’ve seen a lot of her.

It’s become a habit to show up to every game, every practice, intently watching her command her team and skate around on that ice like her life depends on it. You don’t know how hockey works. You honestly couldn’t care less, but you have more than enough reason to watch it, and you have your music to keep you company.

“Someone’s jealous.” You observe, taking a long step towards her.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t make any attempt to create some distance. She just raises her eyebrows at you. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You think I’m jealous?”

“Sounds like it.” You wrestle with a smile, not wanting to blow your one chance at this by pissing her off too much.

“Oh, really? And what’s there to be jealous of?” Abby questions, even if she has a pretty good idea what the answer will be.

“The winning team,” you take another step, “and… y’know, the fact that half of your team has had a turn with me. Not you, though. Not yet.”

The way her jaw tenses up makes your chest swell with pride. “Not yet?” She repeats. “You think I want a turn?”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t look at me the way you do. You like it when I watch you all practice, because you know I’m just watching you.” You tell her.

Abby knows there’s no way to argue with that, no matter how much she’d like to. She looks for you in the bleachers and, when she finds you, subconsciously makes a point of holding that eye contact. You always have both of your headphones in. You’re always looking her up and down, licking your lips like she’s nothing but a freshly prepared meal to you. Honestly, it makes her confidence skyrocket. She’s secure in her capabilities, but a little boost never hurt.

“Athletes like being watched. That’s kinda the whole point,” she replies, “doesn’t make you special.”

“But I am special.” Another step forward. At this point, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. “I’ve gotta be. You know what I want, but you’ve never told your coach to make me fuck off.”

That’s true, too, Abby thinks. She’d never admit it, though. “Maybe I should.” She says.

“You won’t.” You grin. “Not until you get your turn, at least.”

She’s the one to take the next step forward. You can feel her breath fan across your face. She doesn’t trust her voice to speak; her hard exterior slowly crumbling under the heat of your gaze.

So, she grabs you by the throat and leans down to catch your lips between hers.

You gasp, shocked that she’d be the one to take the initiative. You weren’t even sure if she liked girls, and here she was, already shoving her tongue past your lips, which you happily accepted. Her chest presses to yours as she backs you up against one of the lockers. You opt to ignore how hard your head hit the metal, given how preoccupied you are by the way she grabs both of your wrists in her other hand and holds them above your head.

Then, she pulls back to look at you. You aren’t the one in control and you know it. Oddly enough, you kind of like it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Abby rasps, shoving her knee between your thighs and pressing up right where you needed her, causing you to let out a pleased sigh.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just didn’t think you’d be so easy.”

She finds it ironic that you of all people would call her easy, but she decides not to linger on it. Instead, she slightly tightens her grip around your throat, reveling in the way she only needs one hand to make your breath stutter. The lack of air gives you a head-rush and you find yourself grinding down onto her thigh. Normally, you wouldn’t let yourself be reduced to a submissive mess, but you’d been pining after her for months. You’d do whatever it takes to get her head between your legs.

Abby kisses you once more, totally ignoring the way your hands struggle against her grip only because you kiss her back with a fervor she’s never felt.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, “fucking yourself on my leg like a dog.”

You whine at the lack of her lips on yours. “I want you so bad, Abby– been waiting for this forever.” You admit, which is just another ego boost for her.

She lets go of your wrists and pulls your arms to wrap around her shoulders. “Go ahead, then. Make yourself cum like this.”

You’re taken aback by the demand. Is that even possible? Hell, just to impress her, you’ll make it possible.

You slowly get yourself into a rhythm, rolling your hips into hers, thighs trembling as you hold yourself up simply by her shoulders. Her muscles flex beneath your hands and it only makes you moan louder. Your head falls back against the locker once more, giving Abby an opening to dive into your neck. She kisses, licks, bites any skin available to her, leaving little marks and bruises in her path. Something for her to gawk at later when you show up to practice (because she knows you will). Her hands hold you by your waist, fingertips digging into your flesh so hard that it hurts.

It only takes another two minutes until you feel your climax boiling somewhere deep inside of you. Your legs are just barely working anymore and your hips move with an untamed rhythm, shamelessly seeking any pleasure you can get. “I’m close,” you whimper, “please, please let me–”

Before you can finish your plea, she’s grabbing onto your hips and holding you still. You groan in frustration, balling your hands into fists and whacking them against her chest. “You fucking bitch!” You whine, only made angrier by the shit-eating grin on her face (plus the way she isn’t phased at all by your punches).

“Sorry,” Abby says, moving in so close to your face that your noses are nearly touching, “just needed to vent all this frustration. You know, since I lost the big game and all.”

She presses another kiss to your lips, and you reach up to grab hold of her hair, trying to deepen it as much as possible. She doesn’t struggle at all to pull away, though. You’ve never loved and hated someone’s muscles so much.

“Let me make it better.” You breathe, trying to move one of your hands down between her legs but she quickly grabs it to restrain you. “Please, I’ll– I promise, I’ll make you forget about that stupid game.”

“That’s not a very tempting offer,” Abby sighs dramatically just to get a rise out of you, “don’t wanna be sore for practice tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose in thought. Is that an invitation? It has to be. She knows you’ll be there regardless. You stare deep into her eyes with a fury, but this only seems to amuse her.

She lets go of your hips and steps away from you. “See you then.”

You remain pressed up against the locker, lips kiss-bitten and legs shaky. You don’t even want to think about what your neck looks like. Abby grabs her bag from the bench and doesn’t even spare you another glance before walking out of the same door you came in through.

Fuck this, you think. Two can play at that game.

[wordsarelife]

—hits different

pairing: isaac lahey x fem!reader

summary: isaac and you both like each other, it just takes some time for you to realize that the other does as well..

warnings: underage drinking

notes: this should've been posted yesterday.. i'm so sorry

"have any of you seen y/n?" isaacs voice beamed off the walls of the large room and both derek and scott turned their heads so sudden, he wondered if he had just interrupted something.

"y/n?" scott wondered "haven't seen her since school"

"well, obviously she's not here" derek exclaimed with a roll of his eyes and isaac sighed.

"i know" he stretched "i just wondered if any of you knew where exactly she is" he widened his eyes to make a point, which was answered with another eye roll from derek and a shrug from scott. "well, thank you for all the help. i'll go find her myself then"

"she might be hanging out with stiles" scott said as isaac was already walking out of the door.

despite scott being not sure, isaac decided that it did not hurt to drive to stiles' house and have a look for himself. he often found you in the company of the boy, which sometimes made him wonder if there was going more than friendship between the both of you.

he stopped the car before stiles house and got out, walking up the front porch and knocking on the door.

"hey" stiles exclaimed when he swung open the door.

"hey" isaac greeted "i'm looking for y/n" he explained, before he tried to take a look inside "is she here?"

stile shook his head "no, she mentioned something about a club, and some other friend that was going with her"

"huh" isaac nodded, with a tight-lipped smile. "thats kind of weird of her, isn't it?"

stiles just shrugged his shoulders and isaac nodded finally.

"okay, ehm, thanks man"

"sure" stiles nodded with a tightlipped smile, at the lack of movement from isaac, he raised his brows "is there still something i can help you with?"

"uh, yeah" isaac smiled uncomfortably "what's the name of the club?"

"the sinema, i guess" stiles replied shrugging "it's the only club around here"

"yeah, right" isaac raised his arm, lazily waving goodbye, before he walked back to his car.

"is there one story that does not involve isaac lahey?" your friend, amy, loudly asked your, trying to be heard over the music.

"sorry" you replied "we're just very close"

"yeah, yeah" amy nodded her head, having heard enough of the boy in the last hour "that's exactly why you're gonna get drunk out of your mind and forget all about him"

"i'm not sure that's how it works" you noted.

"well it does in my books" amy furrowed her brows, holding the tequila shot in your direction.

you took the glass, admitting that you couldn't think of a better solution yourself, so it couldn't hurt to try hers. anything to get your mind of the blonde boy was greatly appreciated.

the night passed by quickly, you were a drunken mess, slurring about everything and anything.

"you know what i find weird?" you asked amy, both of you laying in the sitting booth of the club.

"no, what?" amy replied, a giggle breaking out between her lips. you joined into her laughter, unable to contain yourself, before you quickly shook your head, focusing back on the matter you were trying to discuss.

"well, scott said that isaac doesn't fancy kylie" you began, rolling your eyes at the name of the girl. at the same time you felt kind of bad, she hadn't done anything to you and yet here you were, saying her name like she had ran over your dog. "but if that's true, why is he always sending her these fuck me eyes?"

"fuck me eyes?" amy repeated, giggling once again "i'm not sure that's a thing, honey"

"i'm sure it is, i've seen it first-hand from stiles to lydia"

amy laughed even louder amidst the fact that you had spied on other people to prove your point.

"i think that's just stiles personally" she shrugged.

the thing about being drunk was that there was no way to direct any feelings, when you were drunk, your mood shifted like you were sitting on a roller coaster.

"can you please take this seriously?" you asked, your tone etched in annoyance and frustration.

"but you're being ridiculous" amy shook her head and you sat up, crossing your arms.

"i'm not trying to be" you muttered, the first tears escaping your eyes.

"y/n, sweetheart" amy cooed, sitting up as well and dropping an arm around your shoulder. "don't cry about him again please" you felt bad that it was your fault that the mood had shifted so drastically. both of you had so much fun all night and now you had gone and spoiled the mood.

"sorry" you cried. "i just miss isaac so much and i wish that he would miss me too whenever we're not together"

unbeknownst to you, isaac did miss you just as much as you were missing him.

"excuse me?" the bouncer turned around, raising his brows at the boy that was absolutely not dressed like he was going clubbing.

"what?" the man asked, watching the blonde boy expectingly.

"i was searching for my friend" isaac explained "she's about this tall" he held a hand up, before he continued to describe the color and length of your hair, what you were probably wearing and how your voice sounded "she's really pretty, really nice, most of the time at least" he ended his description.

the bouncer, who was ready to turn the boy away with an annoyed 'do you think i know everyone inside?', paused, when he noticed two girls stumbling out of the entrance. "that her?" he asked, pointing a finger in their direction.

"wow" isaac muttered impressed, before he nodded "yeah, thanks man" he patted the bouncer's shoulder, before he walked up to amy and you.

"isaac" you slurred as you recognized the boy behind amy.

"yeah, yeah" amy nodded "we already discussed him, honey"

"no" you shook your head, pointing again "isaac!"

amy almost sighed in relief when she noticed the boy approaching. even though she had the same amount of tequila shots as you, she had calmed down a bit and was way less drunk than you. she could handle alcohol much better than you anyway.

"hey" isaac smiled with a lopsided grin.

"isaac!" you slurred once again and the blonde boy laughed at your excitement.

"do you think you could take her home?" amy asked "my boyfriend just came and we want to stay a bit longer. i'd invite the both of you along, but i think y/n's had enough"

"of course" isaac nodded "no problem"

"thank you" amy smiled gratefully, before she hugged you goodbye and pointed her boyfriend out to isaac, so he was sure she was not alone waiting for him.

"bye!" you slurred in her direction as she took off.

isaac watched you in silent amusement. "let's go home, yeah?" he smiled and you nodded, your eyes already halfway closed.

he helped you to the car, all while you put on a tremendous rendition of taylor swifts 'love story'. you missed half the lyrics and weren't singing the right notes, but isaac didn't mind.

"pretty good" he complimented laughing once your singing had been finished.

"thank you, isaac" you smiled at him, dragging out his name. "your name is so beautiful" you smiled before you repeated pronouncing it slower every time.

the sunlight streamed through the window, hitting your face and waking you up with an unpleasant grogginess. your head throbbed, and your mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. slowly, you opened your eyes and glanced around, realizing you were in your own bed. relief washed over you briefly before flashes of the previous night trickled back.

you remembered the club, the tequila shots, and then… isaac. you groaned, hiding your face in the pillow, trying to bury the embarrassing memories. what had you said to him? something about his name being beautiful. you cringed inwardly. you could not remember his answer, nor anything that happened after.

a sudden noise from the front door made you sit up abruptly, the room spinning a little from the movement. you steadied yourself, listening. someone was trying to come into the house. your heart raced as you quickly as you oustretched your hand, reaching for the phone on the bedside table.

"amy?" you whispered as soon as you friend had picked up.

"y/n?" amy wondered. you could tell that she had just woken up herself, her voice almost breaking. "who's that?" another voice asked and you could imagine henry, amy's boyfriend laying next to her, confusion evident on his face.

"it's y/n" amy whispered harshly, before her mouth was closer to the phone again. "what is it, honey? it's the middle of the night"

"it's past eleven" you whispered harshly "and someones trying to break into the house"

"what?" you couldn't see what she was doing, but imagined she was sitting up in bed, due to all the noise she was making.

"someone's breaking in" you repeated.

"shit" amy said worriedly "okay, it's alright, henry can come and-"

before she could finish, the front door flew open. you quickly slipped onto the ground so you could hide behind the bed. "too late" your voice was a pitch higher as you basically screamed in a whisper "they're inside"

"shit, shit, shit" you could hear rushed movements on the other side of the phone "get up, idiot" amy screamed at henry (you assumed) "our friend is getting murdered"

"amy" even after all the years at the side of scott and stiles and every bad situation they had gotten themselves in, you had never been so scared before.

"it's alright, babe" amy tried to sound calming, but failed miserably "we're coming to help you"

"y/n?" a voice called and steps neared your bedroom. you couldn't help the sigh of relief escaping your lips.

"are you dead?" amy screamed and you held the phone away, your ears ringing from the loudness of her voice. "did they find you?"

"well if they didn't before, they would have now" you muttered "i'm alright, it's just isaac"

isaac opened the door, just as you had finished speaking. you raised your hand, waving at him and he walked around the bed, eyebrows furrowed.

"i'll call you back later" you said into the phone, ending the call before amy was able to say anything else.

"so, what are you doing, exactly?" isaac asked, amusement sounding through his voice.

"i thought someone was trying to break in" you shrugged, you saw no sense in lying.

"oh sorry" isaac scratched the back of his neck "i didn't mean to scare, you asked me to stay yesterday, so i slept on the couch and went to grab some breakfast for us"

"oh god" you held your hand in your hands, not being able to look at him "i can't even remember half the car ride yesterday, let alone anything that followed after" you looked down and only noticed now that you were wearing a pyjama.

"you changed yourself" isaac quickly said as he noticed the worry on your face "you asked me to give you a pyjama and changed while i waited in the hallway"

"sorry" you shook your head "i shouldn't have assumed—“

"no, no" isaac quickly interrupted "it's fine, please don't apologize"

you stood up and both of you were now standing in front of each other. "did i say something embarrassing yesterday?" you asked. you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to that, but you had to know.

isaac smiled. "well, you told me that my name was beautiful, which no one has done before, so it's greatly appreciated"

"that's it?" you wondered.

"eh, no" isaac looked a bit uncomfortable now and your smile died down.

"did i say something inappropriate?" your eyes widened "did i say something that made you uncomfortable?"

"no, but" isaac looked out of the window behind you, his cheeks reddening more and more "you said that you really really liked me"

your eyes widened even more and you looked down in embarrassment. "oh my god, i'm so—" you paused, remembering a very important detail from the night before "wait, why were you at the club yesterday?"

isaac laughed. "i was searching for you, actually" he admitted.

"oh really?" you smiled up at him.

"yeah" isaac shrugged "that's also why i stayed even though i live three minutes away, because i really really like you too"

a wave of relief and something warmer washed over you. isaac's words took a moment to sink in, and when they did, your heart fluttered.

"you... you like me?" you repeated, hardly believing what you were hearing.

isaac nodded, his cheeks still tinged with a light blush. "yeah, i do. i have for a while now, but i didn't know how to tell you. when stiles said you were at the club last night, i thought it was the perfect chance to see you."

you couldn't help but smile, the nervousness in your stomach slowly turning into excitement. "you asked stiles where i was?"

"yeah" isaac shrugged, laughing "i thought you were with him, because i always thought there was something going on between the two of you"

"oh, isaac" you shook your head "that couldn't be more wrong. as i said last night: i like you and only you. stiles is like a brother to me, i couldn't never even, no—ew"

isaac giggled, before he stepped closer, his expression softening. "i'm glad we finally got that out in the open."

you nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation building. "so, what now?"

isaac's lopsided grin returned. "how about we start with breakfast? i got your favorite from the bakery down the street."

your stomach growled at the mention of food, and you laughed. "that sounds perfect."

[haowrld]

TO WISH — XU MINGHAO

SYNOPSIS : minghao finds himself back at his hometown, dreaming to meet you again.

NOTES : xu minghao x gn!reader, small fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, minghao’s pov, lowercase intended, a bit grim(?), dream to nightmare, not proofread

WORD COUNT : 1.8k words

WARNINGS : drowning, mentions of death, character death

A/N : this is inspired by hai cheng and this took like months to finish since it was just in the drafts LMAO. anywayy pls let me know what you think 🤧 🩵

MASTERLIST

it was the season of autumn, and the rustling leaves on the trees gently fell on the stony ground. there was a comforting silence in the afternoon and minghao thought that this would be a good moment to take a picture.

walking to his old home, he begins to appreciate the usual comfort. the cozy color of brown around the beige white as he lets himself bask in the peeking sunlight through the window and wishes to think about nothing—letting time pass by without a word.

but his mind continued to trail on as he thought about the waters. the rich color of the sea—a vibrant teal with a mix of the soft color blue. the way the waves move past sandy shores. he thinks about the sea creatures that wander aimlessly around the sea.

he also thought about his family, his home, and the frequent chilly weather that he grew up in. the familiar smell of his family's cooking, the pot of rice still hot as he took a bite. the book that was given to him resting on the floor even though he barely read any of the pages, and the small conversations he would listen to from his family.

“how was school? did you have fun with your friends?” his family wonders.

but most of all, minghao thought about you. he thought about the day he first met you. he noticed you wandering around the town, your eyes were pasted on your phone.

minghao was kind enough to try and guide you, “new around this town?” he remembered asking, each step unconsciously wanting to be close to you.

unsurprisingly, you looked back at him, letting out a sigh as you looked at him like he was your savior. minghao noticed the way you were clutching the on string of the balloon that you were holding. a bright red color, he thought.

“i can’t seem to find this place,” you walk up to minghao showing him your phone, its bright light hitting his face immediately. minghao noticed the familiar trails on the map, following their town’s local beach. no one ever visited that place as it wasn’t exactly the hotspot of his town.

but of course, minghao wasn’t about to let you down on the first day that he had met you, “sure, i could help you find it,” he said as he looked at you giving you a nod, your face practically lit up

he still remembers the walk you two both had together. you had a brown scarf that wrapped around your neck loosely, it seemed like it could’ve blown away at any second.

“so your name is minghao?” after asking for his name, you repeat it once more. you smile before introducing yourself as well.

“yep, i grew up in this neighborhood, so if you hear anyone call my name, that’s because they’re calling me. quite popular around here” he grins, as he looks at the older people from the cliffs, giving them a wave.

“then i can rely on you for a lot of things then?” you give minghao a bright look in your eyes, something made him sigh with content in his heart.

“i suppose, but what do i gain from this?”

“a new friend maybe?” you reply, nudging minghao as you give him a grin.

minghao, can’t help but smile. new friend?

“that would be nice,” he said, “someone from out of town needs to get to know this place.”

minghao remembers that fulfilling day, you two had exchanged numbers after and hit it off since. you and minghao were basically inseparable.

as he opened the curtains, minghao looked at the beach, and he noticed someone holding a red balloon and a familiar one too, he never thought you’d be here again.

or was it all just a dream?

even if it was a dream, he would want it to last forever. minghao immediately leaves his home to go to his sanctuary where you would be waiting for him.

were you here just to see him again? minghao didn’t know why you were suddenly at the beach, it logically didn’t make sense at all, since the last time he met you was years ago.

maybe you wanted to surprise him or maybe you don’t even remember him, but he doesn’t mind at all as he pulls the scarf you gave him close to his face, the same love and longing that he had when he first met you.

he dreams to see you again, look for the red balloon you hold for him to look for you, follow you around as you try finding hiding spots to try and not get caught, but as he finds you hiding a corner, he’s reaching out to you as you move away from him as a joke making him smile. he would feel his steps getting quicker as he tries to chase you.

“yn!” he didn’t care if his shoes were brand new and were going to be ruined by the sand, he quickly called out and you turned around, giving him a wave, you were so far ahead, he thought. minghao walks calmly, knowing you wouldn’t leave. he knows you wouldn’t.

he wishes for another day with you, sitting across from him on the train as he sketches you out, he thought of you as the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

he wants to have one more night with you, sitting next together, as you both let out a sigh seeing the small fog. he wants to hold you close, as night falls, and the lampposts begin to glow the same orange hue.

but as he steps to the sand, there he finds nothing but a floating red balloon and the brown scarf.

“wake up, you’ll drown.” a familiar voice said.

what?

the red balloon pops as the shores wash past him, he has to remember to wake up as fast as he can. the water quickly drags him down from within. he was falling, drowning, he couldn’t feel anything but the strong, moving waters.

it was sudden. it was too much, he couldn’t breathe or feel anything. minghao was trying to swim as fast as he could, trying to get back to shore. he wanted to see you, but you were too far.

he was so close just to be able to see you. but you were too far, and now he’s going to…

“wake up.”

wake up it says.

WAKE UP.

minghao jolts, immediately getting up to find himself in his old bedroom, he could hear someone snoring quietly. the morning was about to rise, as the sun peeked through his curtains.

“a dream,” he mumbled to himself. as he gets off his bed, he suddenly steps on something soft, a contrast to the hardwood floors.

a brown knitted scarf was on the floor. minghao carefully picked it up, his thumb grazing around its details, its different shades of brown, and its textures.

minghao begins to tear up. he pulls the brown scarf close to his chest.

🌊﹕──﹕🧣﹕──﹕🌊

the train ride to the beach was pretty quick, there wasn’t anyone on the train like he remembered. as he steps off the light rail, he finally sees the beach.

the familiar turquoise color rushes through the sand as he looks around, the sunlight was warm as it was the coldest season of the year, he was the only person who ever visited this beach whenever he visited his family, it was quite calming as he looked down, listening to the waters.

although something told minghao to look up, and as he did, he noticed someone, someone familiar who was standing on the water still.

“minghao,” it mouths out before waving.

“take care,” minghao recalls your familiar catchphrase.

“take care…” minghao couldn’t help it anymore, he began to cry as everything else went silent. the unfinished dance, you two had choreographed together, he remembers fondly. the incomplete sketch of you, it was the only thing he could remember of you.

minghao wants to live another moment with you again, to be able to have another dance with you, to hold your hand as you move along with him, and let out a hearty laugh as you accidentally make a misstep before telling you it’s okay to make mistakes. step by step, the two would dance together like droplets of rain pattering down the ground.

but he knows it would never happen again.

“minghao!” a hand grabs his shoulder, trying to shake him, all the noise finally came to him, he heard the waves of the water hitting his shoes, the squawk of seagulls, and the person who was shaking his body

“are you…okay?” he hadn’t realized there was someone right in front of him. their shiny black shoes had been ruined by the grainy yellow sand, but it’s like the stranger didn’t seem to mind at all, they were only worried about minghao’s state and his unending tears.

“i…” he quickly notices the tears dropping into the sand. wiping away the tears, he looks at them, “w-who are you…?”

“oh you can’t be joking right now hao!” they aggressively shake his shoulders before immediately placing their hands on his face, “i just see you staring from far ahead and reaching at nothing and weeping, then you start saying that you don’t know me,” they said as they let go of his face and crouch on the grainy ground.

“you’re starting to sound like someone from an amnesia episode in a show…” continuing to ramble on, making minghao smile lightly. he laughed like this was the first joke he had ever understood. it was hearty, and it was weird, but it brought comfort.

“i’m sorry..it was just a dream…” he reassures them, holding onto the brown scarf tightly, “i just thought i needed some fresh air.

“minghao if something is bothering you, you have to let me know,” they said looking up at him, “if this place leaves a bad impression on you we can just leave and—”

“i’m going to be alright.”

“but you were crying hao..”

“it’s going to be okay, i told myself i would leave this…” minghao says, pulling the scarf away from his face, “…this scarf, it meant everything to me.”

minghao crouches on the sand next to them, “i’m sorry for going crazy,” he grinned wrapping an arm around them.

“well, i’ll be here if you need anything,” they said, “but i don’t want you to forget about yourself again,” they joke.

minghao remembers how long ago it had been since he lost you in the waters. the scarf was something that he needed to remove if he wanted to move on.

he unwraps the scarf around himself, but before he even places it on the sand, he stops himself for a moment. he didn’t know whether or not this was the right call, i mean this was the last time he was seeing this scarf.

it takes him a while to think, but minghao quickly shakes his head, wrapping the scarf around himself again before getting up taking their hand, “let’s go,” he says.

the beach that was once yours and minghao’s sanctuary. it lingers behind his mind as he leaves the beach with them, holding their hand. not knowing it, a popped red balloon slowly moves from the shallow sea.

taglist (open) send an ask or fill out the form to be part of the taglist!

©️HAOWRLD

[bs2sjh]

May 22 - Night and May 23 - Apology

Sorry for not updating yesterday. Got a big exam on Tuesday, and studying, as well as working 40+ hours a week, is kicking my ass! Anyway, here we go. Two instalments, so keep scrolling down and hit expand!

Day 22 - Night

"You're joking, right?" Night was falling as John looked up from the laptop, a confused smile on his lips.

"Nope."

"But why?"

"I'd have thought that was obvious."

"To you, yeah, maybe. To us mere mortals, it'll need some explaining. So, why?"

"It has everything. More room. Gardens. Space to expand. Grow."

"You just said you're fed up with living here 'cause it's too quiet, and you want to swap our home for this?" John's voice raised at the end.

"Home? Our home? You haven't lived here for thirteen years. No amount of asking has made you even consider moving back here." Sherlock's own anger started to rise.

"Asking? When have you asked?" John slammed the laptop shut. 

"I stopped once it became obvious that you would never accept." Sherlock took a deep breath. "Saved me the pain of repeated rejection."

"Well, now I've said we could move back."

"Yes, and I've told you it's too late."

"So you're packing up and moving to the suburbs. Running away." Sherlock scoffed. 

"Hardly. Answer this: what's stopped you from moving here with Rose? Let me tell you. Space. Schools. We have enemies, and they all know this address."

"So what's this then, a fresh address to escape your enemies?"

"Think, John! I wanted it for us both."

John stared at Sherlock. "Us both?"

Day 23 - Apology

"So, you're buying this for us to live in as a family?"

"Yes. With the money from 221b and some of," Sherlock swallowed past the lump in his throat as he thought of all the people he'd, they'd lost in the past two years.

"Yeah, I know. I miss them too." 

"I thought it would answer all the reservations that prevented you from accepting my offers. It has space for us all. Cellars to convert into a lab. A study for you. Room for Rose and spares for friends."

"Sherlock,"

"I just wanted to make it easier for you to say yes. So that I could..." Sherlock blinked back the tears that threatened. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I can't." He stood and walked to the window, watching night descend on Baker Street. "I'm sorry," he whispered as the rain on the windows cast shadows like tear tracks. 

"It's me who should be apologising. I should have known that you were struggling. What sort of friend am I?" Sherlock laughed humourlessly. 

"One who never forgives or forgets. Your good opinion, once lost, is lost forever." 

"Trust you to not know anything about the planets but be able to quote from Pride and Prejudice." John's voice came from right behind Sherlock, causing him to turn. "Can I choose my bedroom?"

This is part of a multi-part fic for @calaisreno's May Prompt Challenge. All can be found here at a03!

[morganski-19]

The One with the Cafeteria

Fourteen Years Ago

Eddie sits at an empty cafeteria table. Pulling out his crumpled lunch bag, only a few snacks and half a squished sandwich inside. He takes out the pretzels, popping a few in his mouth while he draws something in his sketch book. Trying to decide what the best way to draw the creature he’s thinking of.

A group of football players pass his table. Bursting out in laugher after a jumbled whisper. Eddie tenses his shoulders, having a feeling it’s about him. With his hair that’s a mess that falls right below his ears, the way he dresses outside of the town’s boxes. He’s not exactly fit to be the popular kid.

Still, he could go without the passing remarks. He already was held back one year, he didn’t need more scrutiny.

A tray is placed gently across from him. He doesn’t think anything of it. Better to ignore the torment before it happens. But when he takes the chance to see who’s in front of him, it’s anything but the people who like to make fun of him.

This time it’s the girl that sits in front of him in math class. Nancy Wheeler.

“Hi,” she says with a soft smile. “You’re Eddie, right?”

Eddie cautiously nods. “Yeah.”

A person like Nancy Wheeler still never sits with Eddie Munson. He wonders why she’s really here.

“All my friends are in a different lunch period, and you had an empty table, so I thought I could join you.” She looks nervous, fidgeting with the sides of her lunch tray. “Would that be ok?”

Eddie shrugs. “As long as you’re good at avoiding random paper balls, then yes.”

Nancy furrows her brows. “Paper balls?”

Almost like she summoned them, a wadded-up piece of paper hits the back of Eddie’s head. He goes back to eating like nothing happened.

“They actually throw shit at you? What do they think this is? A fucking movie? Think of something original for once.”

Eddie snorts. “I don’t think their brains are big enough for original.”

Nancy laughs. “You’re funny.”

“And you’re committing social suicide just by talking to me. So, you’re either extremely brave or extremely stupid.”

She tilts her head to the side. “I could be a little bit of both.”

“Nancy Wheeler, full of surprises.”

“Why do they throw stuff at you anyway?” She asks after a short silence. “It seems so random, I’ve never seen them do that before.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Not everyone here is that accepting of the gay kid whose dad’s locked up and got held back a year. People start rumors, now the town hates me.”

Nancy makes a face, Eddie bracing himself to get hit with another piece of paper. Or an insult.

“Well, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t know enough about me to make that decision.”

“And you don’t know enough about me to assume that about me. I don’t hate you because you’re gay, or your dad’s in jail, or that you’re repeating your sophomore year. I don’t know enough about you to hate or like you, but I’d like to.”

Eddie puts down his pencil, crossing his arms. “Like to what? Hate me or like me? Gotta pick one, Wheeler.”

He’s frustrating her, finding joy in it. A different joy than the insults he slings back at the homophobes that ends up with blood running out his nose. A joy that will end up making both of them laugh like nothing else matters. The joy of a friend.

Eddie could really use one of those.

Nancy rolls her eyes. “I guess we’ll have to see about that, won’t we.”

“I guess we will.” Eddie shuts his sketchbook, sliding it back into his bag. “So, what really happened to the people you eat lunch with?”

“Ditched me for their boyfriends, or changed over the summer. I always heard starting high school would change things, just didn’t know it would happen so fast.”

“Oh fuck that, you don’t deserve people who treat you like that.”

“No, no I don’t.”

They spend the rest of lunch talking, laughing. Each day finding each other at the empty lunch table. Talking through the halls if their heading the right way. Pairing up for the math project. Even though Nancy is ten times smarter than Eddie is about this, but she still picks him anyway.

Slowly, they start picking each other more. Spending time outside of school as well. Getting sick of the cafeteria and finding a quiet spot in the library. Becoming the friends both of them deserved.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low,

@thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady,

@apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic,

@fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging,

@potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1, @ilovecupcakesandtea, @gregre369

@my2amgaythoughts, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @emmabubbles

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic Prompt 2 - Thriller

Words: 860

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

“I know what you are, Remus.” Remus spun around as the door to his office closed behind him, revealing Sirius Black lurking behind it.

“What am I?” He schooled his features and turned around to face Sirius. “Other than fucking exhausted?”

“Do you need me to say it?” Sirius kept his distance, noticeably so. Remus frowned. “You could have told me, you know.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“Remus.” Sirius scowled.

“Sirius.” He half-taunted.

“I saw you in Knockturn Alley with Caradoc Dearborn, Remus.”

Remus suddenly panicked, because while he was sure that Sirius was about to announce that he knew that Remus was a werewolf, maybe this was about him kissing Dearborn when they’d gone to pick up their Wolfsbane potion. It was wishful thinking, he knew.

“You’re going to need to be more specific, Sirius.” He repeated, slowly.

“What if a student had seen you?” Sirius took a step backwards and Remus was still none the wiser.

“Then I’d question what a student was doing in Knockturn Alley during term time.”

Sirius growled, “Why are you being deliberately obtuse?”

“I’m waiting to hear why being in Knockturn Alley with a friend is bothering you so much. What? Are you jealous, Black?” Remus leant back against his desk, one eyebrow raised slightly.

“You know that’s not it.” Sirius’ eyes darkened, suddenly realising that what he felt did seem at least similar to jealousy.

“You keep telling me what I know and don’t know. I’d much rather you actually asked me whatever it is you came here to ask me.” He held Sirius’ gaze and for a moment, thought the other man might hit him before he turned around and left Remus’ office.

Remus sighed in relief, moving to his chair and resting his head against the cool surface of his desk. He wondered which Sirius would take more offence to, his lycanthropy or his bisexuality. He knew of Sirius’ family, and although he seemed nothing like them, old habits died hard sometimes. Maybe one day things would change enough for him to blindly trust people who seemed like they deserved it. One day

“You know what? I don’t give a fuck if you and your boyfriend are werewolves.” Sirius burst back into the room. Ah, so it was both. “I’m just so mad that you’re spending fuck knows how many Galleons on Wolfsbane every month, when I could be brewing it for you.”

Remus lifted his head, “You could… what?”

“I’m a much better potioneer than Mulciber. I can make your stupid potion, and Dearborn’s too.” Sirius crossed his arms.

“Why would you do that?” Remus asked quietly.

“Because we’re friends, Remus. Although we’re clearly not as close as I thought, seeing as you failed to tell me that you and your boyfriend are—”

“Not my boyfriend.” Remus held up a hand. “Not for... almost a decade.”

“But you don’t deny the rest?”

“That I’m a werewolf who went to buy a potion that means I might not tear my body apart once a month? It seems pretty silly to deny that at this point.” He smiled, sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Or ask me for help.”

“Or ask you for help.” Remus nodded, “I’m not in the habit of telling people. It very rarely, if ever, ends happily for me when I do. It’s not personal.”

“It feels a little personal.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Sirius, I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell my gorgeous co-worker that I’m literally a ferocious beast and ask for his help. It was definitely because I don’t trust him and not because I’m terrified he’ll pity me, or worse, be scared of me.”

“Be scared of— Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.” Sirius tried hard not to raise his voice. “Being a werewolf doesn’t make you bad or scary or pitiful. Not to me.”

“Well, thank you.” Remus still couldn’t look at him. “That’s not most people’s reaction.”

“I’m not most people.” Sirius pulled a small flask out of his pocket, and a chocolate frog from another. “Take your potion, Remus.”

“You made this? For me?”

“Yes, and Albus is sending one to Dearborn. Let him know it’s safe to drink, would you. I thought it would be better to remain anonymous.”

“But, why?” Remus finally looked up at him, his eyes were filled with tears threatening to spill over.

“Why wouldn’t I want to help you?” Sirius crossed to perch on his desk, next to him. “That’s not all I can do to help. If you’ll let me?”

“What else could you possibly do?” Sirius smirked at him before disappearing, a large black dog appearing next to Remus’ knees. “Oh, fucking hell.”

Sirius changed back. “Werewolves don’t attack animagi. Especially not when they’ve taken wolfsbane. So, if you ever wanted company…”

“I wouldn’t ask you to take that risk.” Remus said firmly.

“Do you think so little of my potion brewing skills?”

“Sirius.”

“Remus.”

Remus dragged his hand down his face. “For fucks sake. I mean— thank you. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Tell me I’m gorgeous again.” Sirius suggested.

[yallthemwitches]

Level Headed

Posting @jilytoberfest Day 27, prompt “What if it doesn’t work” “What if it does work” early because I have to catch a train at 5am and the internet can be spotty.

Hopefully this fluffy little piece will make up for the soul crushing sadness of my Day 26....

“Please Lily, be my girlfriend,” he repeats. He’s using her name as ammunition, a clear delineation that they are no longer enemies or even acquaintances. To be fair, he has every reason to: at this point he probably knows her body as well as she does. “We’ve been through this, their is just a lot—” “Yes, I remember,” he cuts in, unwavering. “--and I have deliberated all of the pros and cons. So again, we should become serious.”

AO3 Here

“I don’t appreciate being cornered like this, Potter.”

She would try to gesture around at the tiny enclosed alcove he has shoved them in, but there is hardly enough room for the both of them, much less her extended wingspan. 

“You didn’t seem to mind it the last few times we were in here.” 

She can’t see it, but she can tell he is making that face—the one that is teasing and sexy and infuriating all wrapped into one. 

“Do you plan to tell me what is so pressing that you had to pull me from potions—”

“Be my girlfriend,” he says simply, voice firm. It’s too dark for her to read his face, but something in her desperately wants to know if he’s blushing.

“James—”

“Please Lily, be my girlfriend,” he repeats. He’s using her name as ammunition, a clear delineation that they are no longer enemies or even acquaintances. To be fair, he has every reason to: at this point he probably knows her body as well as she does.

“We’ve been through this, their is just a lot—”

“Yes, I remember,” he cuts in, unwavering. “--and I have deliberated all of the pros and cons. So again, we should become serious.”

“I think you might be a little biased,” she murmurs, arms crossing around her chest. “You always have a knack for simplifying things and this–,” she makes a gesture between them, “is not exactly simple.”

“Ok Evans, hit me. Tell me one complication.”

She sighs. “Well, to start, we fight too much.”

James laughs and the jostle of his body makes their forearms graze.

“Hardly. Since we started snogging we’ve found better ways to deal with that type of energy.”

She feels her face flush but she pushes forward.

“Yeah but you can’t expect every fight to be resolved by snogging, it’s not healthy.”

“Seems better than no snogging,” he muses. She can hear a smile on his face. 

“Fine, ok number two: the whole school will go mad—it will knock off the whole ecosystem.”

“Brilliant, always wanted to be a revolutionary.”

 “James—can we please be serious,” she says, patience running thin.

“Of course—seeing as that’s exactly what I’ve been asking for.”

She scoffs, “you know that’s not what I —“

A set of arms snake around her, tugging on her waist to move closer. Eyes now adjusting to the dark, she can see that his face is unbearably close, taunting her with memories of every other more pleasurable time they have spent in the same spot.

“Think about it,” he whispers, now close at her ear, “ we can hold hands on our way to class…I’ll carry your books…make you tea while you study….give you a kiss good morning the second I see you at breakfast, until the blessed day where I don’t have to wait until breakfast— I can just roll over and kiss you because we don’t have to hide in drafty alcoves, we can just be…..”

She has always fought to not give him what he wants -–because he always gets what he wants—but he’s making a pretty compelling argument.

“You will be an arrogant arsehole,” she whispers, her last feeble attempt, hardly convincing herself. 

“Never. Not if you’re there to keep me level headed.” 

His lips ghost over hers and a hand slides up her spine to find her neck, massaging a pressure point with his thumb. She doesn’t wait for him anymore, letting their lips find each other and the world slip into a familiar, delicious haze.

“Yeah, ok,” she breathes out, barely capable of waiting until they can slot themselves together again. He kisses her with a newfound vigor, and she returns it gladly. 

“But only because we’ve never been very level-headed.”

[graycomfort]

Simon Henriksson x gn reader - Leende -Part 2

Synopsis: You just started learning Swedish.

Masterlist (coming soon) Part 1 Part 2

A/N: aiaiaiiaiai Part two to my first fanfiction ever. Still cheesy :] If there are any mistakes in the Swedish parts, please tell me and I will fix them!

They/Them is used like two times, the rest of it refers to you as you. Hope you enjoy! : ]

Word Count: ~2.8 k

It's been few weeks since you started learning Swedish. Simon has been quite helpful in the journey to learn his language. Even though he made fun of you from time to time, he provided you with practice and accuracy. He did throw you into deep water many times though. While buying stuff at the store or ordering fast food, he would just stop speaking forcing you to do the talking. Even though it made you stressed, it was a good practice. And Simon would make it up to you by paying for your stuff.

In the beginning, you would check if the information given by him was correct. But he valued your trust, so he never tricked you by telling you the wrong translations. However, he would confuse you by speaking words you don't know and never translating. He was not quite ready for you to know when he was complimenting you. To you, it was hard to catch and he refused to repeat so most of the time it was hard to look up what he said. That annoyed you, but also motivated you even more. You studied even harder to get back at him someday.

It was late at night. You have gotten a worrisome message from Simon's mom, asking about Simon's whereabouts. You told her you don't know, but that you will look for him. She said she would be grateful if you did and to be careful. So as soon as you told your guardian you were leaving, you were on your way. You jumped between rooftops with a flashlight turned on on your phone. You finally reached the one that you knew Simon would be at. A huge flat one.

He sat there when he felt upset and didn't want to dwell in his bed any longer. He told you that this was where Sophie killed herself. This confused you a lot since she was very much alive. You passed her in the hallway at school at least twice a week. You knew that he knew that too, since they went to the same classes. You decided not to question it. And Simon never elaborated, not wanting to put the baggage that was his mental health on you.

The important part to you at the moment was that Simon was in a bad mood. He sat there, in the same spot as always. You made sure your footsteps were audible, so you didn't startle him. You sat down on his left. You looked down at the street before switching to Simon. He wasn't crying, just looking in front of him with an empty stare. You were not sure he even knew you were there.

He in fact didn't. He only realized you were there when he was no longer zoning out. Your efforts not to startle him going to waste. In his point of view, you appeared out of thin air. His eyes turned away as soon as he saw you. "How long have you been here?" He asked you with a hoarse voice. He was clearly not dressed well for the weather, but so weren't you. Your hoodies not thick enough to stop the cold air hitting your bodies. "Just got here. How about you? Can you even feel your fingers anymore?" You grabbed his hand, feeling how cold to the touch it was.

"I'm not sure." Only then he felt how cold his fingers were compared to yours. He didn't move his hand away. Longing for your warmth and closeness. He felt like he wanted to crawl under your warm skin. "C'mon. Gimme your second hand." And he gladly did as he was told. Maybe a bit too eagerly than he would like to. Both of his cold hands now covered by yours, like a warm blanket. Your touch comforted him like he knew it would.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You looked at him, into his eyes that avoided yours. "Not at the moment, no." "That's alright." You looked away and squeezed his hands reassuringly. You thought about what to say for a minute.

"I learned a new word." He finally looked up. Simon appreciated that you decided to get his mind off whatever was bothering him. "Åh yeah? What is it?" "Leende" [smile] You yet again turned to him and smiled. That automatically made him smile slightly as well. "Did you learn that to bother me to smile more?" You laughed but shook your head.

"I did that to tell you 'Jag tycker om ditt leende'." [I like your smile.] His mouth fell open slightly in shock. Now not only his hands felt warm, but so did his face. He was stunned. Weeks of one-sided complimenting from his side did not prepare him to hear one back. He couldn't deny it, he could get used to it. He felt greedy, he wanted more.

"Thanks... You are the only person who gets to see it so... I'm glad that at least you like the sight of it." He smirked at the end of his words and looked down. Losing eye contact, but his lips did not fall. "You don't like it?" "Yeah, it's not a pretty sight to me" He mumbled. You hummed.

"What about mine?" "What?" His eyes came back from wandering, connecting with yours again. "What about my smile? Do you like the sight of it?" You fixed your position, now sitting facing him with your whole body. "Obviously, otherwise my lips wouldn't curve up at the sight of it." "Good, good thing pretty smiles are contagious then!" You laughed. He groaned at your cheesy attempt at a flirty joke. He removed his left hand from yours and shoved your shoulder. But his smile never fell as he scoffed.

Simon tried to return his hand into yours, but before he could both of your hands retracted. Both of his hands cold again. "Nu-uh" "What do you mean 'nu-uh'?! I'm cold!!" He kept his freezing hands extended. You have put yours on the roof behind your back and leaned on them. "I don't knowww... You hit me and it hurrrt sooo muchhh!" You said in a dramatic mocking tone. Simon started deadpan at you. He wasn't sure if his next move was okay or maybe would make you uncomfortable. But he wanted it so badly, so he followed his heart and...

Next thing you knew, your back was pressed against the roof. You screamed in horror as you felt Simon's cold hands against the lower half of your back. The only other noise, apart from your screaming, was the sound of a window being closed abruptly. "SIMON!! THAT'S SO COLD!!" "I KNOW!" You started daggers at him until you noticed. Simon was cuddled into your warm body, hugging you at your waist. His hands buried under your hoodie on your back. Not only trying to warm them up but also to get back at you. His chest was moving quicker than usual due to laughing. You felt each of his laughs with his warm breath on your collarbones, as his hooded head was buried on them. His black hair tickling your under chin and neck.

Your stare softened at that sight. You no longer minded the cold fingers touching your back, his warmth and laughter being enough to make it up to you. Simon didn't mind the cold anymore himself. As his laugh died down, he just laid there. The comfort he felt in your arms was so heavenly, it couldn't get better. His thoughts did start getting to him. You are so quiet. Are you angry? Are you uncomfortable? You relaxed and placed your arms around his shoulders, completing the embrace.

He was wrong. It did get better.

All of his worries melted away at that action. It was shocking to him, how many times you had helped him get rid of any bad thoughts without even saying a word. As if you knew what he was thinking about. You were perfect to him. He was so glad you were his best friend, but he couldn't hide that he did wanned to be something more. Little did he know, you wanted the same thing. But the voices in his head told him that you would never love a pathetic man like him. You knew that was far from the truth, and you decided it was finally time he knew that too.

After a bit of silence, you spoke up. "Hey, Simon." He answered with a questioning 'hm'. "Jag gillar dig oskså" You let those four words fly out of your mouth like you have practiced many times. Simon's head flew up in shock at that sentence. He locked his eyes with yours no longer interested in your warmth. He pulled himself up on his hands and stared at you in awe. "Like... like like? You like me like that?" "Yes, Simon." "Are you serious? You're not fucking with me, right?!" He asked frantically. You chuckled at that and grabbed his face. "I mean it, Simon."

Wrong again. It got even better.

Simon tried to process what was said to him. He was overfilled with emotions. It was the first time in his life anyone ever liked him in that way. He stayed frozen as you caressed his cheek. All he did was stare into your eyes like they were the rarest gemstones in the world. He began leaning in, wanting to connect his chapped lips to yours. Yet he stopped himself abruptly.

"Can I... kiss you?" The last thing he wanted to do was to scare you away. You didn't answer using words. Your hand shifted to the back of his neck, pulling down his hood in the process. Then you pulled him down, both of your lips bearly touching. They ghosted each other, feeling each other's warm breaths. You tested his patience. He did last a bit, but he couldn't wait any longer.

His lips connected to yours in a kiss. At first, the kiss resembled a long peck on the lips. But he wanted more, going in for a second time. Simon was very much inexperienced. So as your lips opened to suck on each other's tongues, clanking of teeth was unavoidable. His left hand rested on the connection of your shoulder and your neck, and your left played with the strands at the back of his head.

His focus was entirely on you, the rest of the world didn't matter to him right now. Well, until the quietness of the night was interrupted not only by your kisses but also by a car. Just under the building on which roof you two sat on, the car has stopped and a slam of a door could be heard two times. Simon made the distance between you two and peaked down at the street. You looked at him slightly confused, as he looked uneasy. But his concerns were right. A police car was parked just below them. It was most likely due to a noise complaint as, he can't argue, you two were quite loud earlier. He turned back to you as he sat between your legs, his hands on your sides.

"Well, that's our sign to go." He got up and held his hand out for you to grab. You accepted his hand and pulled yourself up. You didn't question his uneasiness, as your job was to bring him home anyway. And you didn't want both of you to get sick. So you held his hand and launched forward to jump between rooftops as you two reached the trusted ladder. He let go of your hand and waved it towards the exit, letting you go first. As you went down, he looked the way you two came from.

Quickly after being on the ground again, you two began your walk towards Simon's house. To get there you two would have to take a train. As you entered the train station, you felt uneasy at the fact it was so empty. You did enjoy the vibe, but it still gave you that uneasy feeling in your chest. Seconds later your hand ended up in Simon's. Simon grabbed your hand, reassuring you as if he was unfazed about the atmosphere. It was partly true, he felt uneasy each time he entered the station. As if he was scared the things he saw down there would come back to haunt him. Comforting you also benefited him, being focused on your well-being got his mind off his own struggles.

It didn't take much time till the train arrived at the track. The train was less so empty. The front occupied by tired men in fancy jackets. We without needing to say a word, opted for the back of the train. Of course, it was kept less tidy than the front car. But things like the broken light and newspaper on the floor, which you didn't mind, kept the well-dressed men away from the car. Resulting in having the whole car for yourselves.

You sat by the window as he sat next to you. You kept his hand in your lap and played with it. It didn't take long for Simon to put his head on your shoulder. The journey they were taking was already memorized by him. He lost all interest in whatever was behind the window, even though it's something he always watches on his way home. You took all of that interest, he watched as you played with his hand. Soft touches giving him comfort.

You dropped his hand. Letting it rest on your tight. He looked at you as you fished for your phone. "I should message your mom that we are on our way, so she doesn't worry anymore." He watched her type, he quirked his eyebrow. "She sent you to look for me?" "She told me you were missing, looking for you was my idea." You finished typing, hit send, and put your phone away. The hand that rested on your tight, once again in your hands. He felt glad you didn't come to get him because his mom told you to, but that you were worried yourself.

The ride was calm and quiet. Simon got comfortable on your shoulder. And you would have thought he fell asleep if he didn't get up from his seat as you two neared the station you're supposed to get off on. You two's hands never separated, holding each other and touching shoulders all the way to Simon's house.

Before Simon's house stood his mother, pacing on the small concrete path. She immediately saw you two as the house was now in your line of sight. You waved at her as you two went around the short white fence. Simon still felt your hand in his. You seemed to not mind being seen by his mother holding hands, so he didn't make any move to disconnect them. But he couldn't make eye contact with his mom.

"Åh, Simon, y/n. Där är du! Jag var så orolig!" [There you are! I was so worried] His mother came up to him. He was ready for the scolding that was already engraved in his mind. Yet his mother's attention switched to you. "Tack så mycket för att du tog hem honom, mitt barn." [Thank you so much for bringing him home, my child] You smiled at her in return. "Kom och sov över, jag låter dig inte åka tåg ensam så här sent på kvällen." [Come and sleep over, I won't let you ride the train this late at night]

You kept your smile on, but you were very much confused. The words spoken by her not known to you. You glanced at Simon, as a silent ask for translation. Simon felt your stare and turned his head to you. After a short silence without your reply to his mom's request it was clear to him you didn't understand. "She told you to stay over, she won't let you go alone this late."

"Åh" You exclaimed and turned back to his mother. "Okej, tack" That's all Simon's mom needed, as she imidietly lead you into the house. Simon let you enter first and his mom began a chat with him. "Du har äntligen bjudit ut dem." [You finally asked them out.] Simon's nervousness came back as quickly as it went away. "De gjorde det, inte jag" [they did, not me] He said under his nose. His mom chuckled and patted his back as they finally entered their home.

[dickbaggins]

Oh lookie here, it's the end of Blowmance! Chapter five! Will they? Won't they? (psst they will, here's a teaser, it's a bloodweave grad school au where Gale's the bj queen of blackstaff, in case you're just joining us)

“Do you want to show me your room now?” Astarion tries, utterly presumptuous. But with the smirk, calculated, he knows it’ll hit just right. And it does. There’s a little blush creeping into Gale’s cheeks, and Astarion grins wider, presses closer. Laughs low and fond and presses his nose right up against Gale’s warm cheek. “Oh, you don’t have to, if it’s going to make you nervous. I’m being too quick again, aren’t I? Let’s just - “ Gale cuts him off with the turn of his head. The shine in his eyes stays, but his brows draw into something serious. Thoughtful. He turns his body, too, so they’re completely facing. Turns it and takes both of Astarion’s hands and some vast tonal shift buttons up Astarion’s mouth quicker than anything ever has. “I’ve been thinking. About things. About you.” Nothing good comes after a sentence like that. Astarion fights not to let it deflate him. “And, let me guess, you like me.” “Of course I do.” “So much.” “So, so much,” Gale repeats as emphatic as the first time he said it. It makes Astarion feel as giddy as the first time, too. Every time. It hasn’t lost any of its punch yet, somehow.

“Is that all you’ve been thinking of?” “No,” Gale said, and there’s finally a lift to his dire seriousness, a quirk at the corner of his mouth that Astarion knows precipitates a smile. “But I have this problem.” “If this is about your deliciously touchy dick again, Gale, I swear - “ “No! No, not…not that. Although, if this conversation goes right, that will need addressing.” “Oh. Oh. Well, keep talking then, don’t keep me in such suspense.” His bones feel like they’re going to jump right out of his skin if he doesn’t hear right fucking now what Gale wants to say to him. What he’s been thinking. It sounds good, it actually sounds like good news and his heart races away already. Still, always, too presumptuous for his own good. “My problem,” Gale starts again, making a sigh out of the words, squeezing Astarion’s hands at the same time. “Is that I do want things to go further, with you. I don’t know how far, exactly. We’ve already surmounted my most casual rules, and we’re onto the more serious ones.” “Such as don’t let anyone into your dorm.” “No, it’s not quite like that. I let people in, Astarion. I’ve got friends, classmates. Just last week, would you believe it, I crammed ten people in here to watch a movie? It was a whole thing, I baked a cheesecake and it was lovely, but there was no sex involved, is what I’m getting at here. No one I’ve even so much as kissed.” “Ah, that’s why I wasn’t invited.” “Things get complicated in ways I never seem to understand. People…expect things. So I’m going to be clear with you. Painfully forthright.” “Please.” “I do want to…” his head ducks. Hair fans out over his blushing face and Astarion doesn’t hesitate to brush it back, to tuck it behind Gale’s ear and let his hand rest against the side of his neck. “I do want to fuck you, Astarion. Since you said it, it’s been difficult to stop thinking about.” “Oh,” Astarion sighs and the held nerves dissolve right out of him. That’s really all he wanted, was Gale thinking about it. Because in the thinking about it, well, there’s no way that wouldn’t turn into something good. “But…” Gale draws it out and that’s mean. It isn’t on purpose. Astarion knows that, sees the indecision in the man’s face. In the barely-there lines of his frown, with his gaze still so down-turned. Astarion tips his head up, then. Hand under his chin and Gale goes easy with the motion and after a few seconds, he even looks Astarion right in the eyes again. And continues.

Blowmance, now a complete 5 chapter bloodweave grad school au!

[leasstories]

Everyone deserves to live

Based on the prompt: “I’m scared you will hurt yourself even more.” By @creativepromptsforwriting.

Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Trigger warnings: Mentions of failed attempts, blood, self-harm,

WC:  1K

You currently are – well were- in remission from self harm. But something happened today at school, Jason and his goons might have told you that a freak like you didn’t deserve to live.

They hit a sensitive spot and they knew it before the words left their mouth. It is purposefully why they said it.

You don’t mind being called a freak. The second part is what struck a nerve. You also don’t think you deserve to live. You have ended up in the hospital several times from trying to take the easy way out. Jason knows, hell the entire school knows about your failed attempts. This is how, you have ended up at the pic-nick table behind the football field, relapsing.

You took out a pencil sharpener, the only thing that you had on you, to create angry red marks on your already scarred skin.

Eddie found you a few moments later, arms bleeding, sobbing, and cutting yourself at the pic-nick table. Eddie runs to you, panic etched on his face.

“Sweetheart…” he says, voice breaking and willing himself not to cry.

You raise your eyes towards Eddie, not stopping the cutting. When your eyes meet Eddie’s, they well up in tears.

Eddie softly lowers your hand holding the blade before taking the bloody pencil sharpener blade in his own hands.

“What happened?” he asks, worried and fumbling with the bandana in his back pocket to take it off.

You shake your head, still crying. “I’m so sorry…” you repeat over and over. Eddie gently takes your arm and wrap it up with the bandana which is immediately soaked with blood.

Eddie’s heart breaks at seeing you like this. He cups your face in his big warm hands and make you look at him.

“Hey, hey stop apologizing. Breathe baby, breathe.” Eddie says as calmly as he can.

You follow Eddie’s breathing patterns which helps you calm down a bit. While you try to calm down, Eddie puts some pressure on your bandana covered arm to help the bleeding stop.

“What happened?” he asks again.

“Does it matter?” you ask, sniffling.

“It matters to me.” Eddie answers seriously. “You were doing so good baby; I need to know what triggered it.”

“I just relapsed because I’m weak.” You shrug.

“Baby… I’ve been here every step of the way, even in the end it wasn’t that bad. I need to know what happened. I’m scared you’ll hurt yourself even more.” Eddie says, concerned.

You sniffle once more. “Jason said something to me and it… it kinda got to me, I guess?” you say not going into any more details.

“What did he say?” Eddie asks, starting to get angry.

“It doesn’t matter…” you say not wanting to make Eddie angry even more.

“Sweetheart, it made you relapse so of course it matters. What did that dickhead say to you?” Eddie asks again.

You look at the ground. “He said out loud what people think, what I think… He said and I quote ‘a freak like you does not deserve to live’.”

Eddie clenches his jaw hard, getting angrier by the second.

“He said what?” Eddie asks, trying to keep his cool in front of you. The last thing you need right now is him being angry and he knows that. He knows that you need someone there for you right now. You need love and reassurance not hatred directed at stupid Jason Carver.

“The truth.” You say.

“Stop that baby. You deserve to live. First of all, everyone deserves to live. Secondly, you are an amazing, strong person. You are loved and you disappearing would break people’s heart. It would break my heart.” He says, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

You start sobbing again and as you do, Eddie helps you up and lead you to his van.

He drives the both of you to his trailer and sits you on his bed. Eddie runs to the bathroom, he takes some antiseptic, gauze as well as bandages and comes back into his bedroom to tend to your wounds.

Eddie starts by taking the bandana off of your bleeding arm before putting some antiseptic on the gauze.

Eddie can see that while he puts the antiseptic on your wounds, you won’t look at him. He knows you well and he knows you are ashamed.

“Baby, there is nothing to be ashamed of.” He says softly.

As you don’t answer, Eddie keeps going.

“I am going to help you, I’m here for you baby. We are going to start over, take baby steps, ‘kay?” Eddie tells you reassuringly.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Eddie throws the used gauze in the bin and bandages your arm.

“All bandaged up!” he says, kissing the bandage.

“Thank you.” You sincerely say, still avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

“You know I’ll be here every step of the way, right?” Eddie tells you sincerely, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“I know… thank you and sorry again.” You say still looking at your knees.

“Ice cream and a movie?” Eddie asks.

You nod. Eddie and you spent the night at his place and he has been nothing but sweet. He kept taking care of you and promised he is not mad at you. He kept repeating that he is proud of how long you’ve been self-harm free before the relapse and tells you how you can do it again. Your grateful to have Eddie in your life. He never judged you once, always there to listen, to try to understand and to support you through it all. You know today has been hard on him as well, you know how worried he is about you, so when he falls asleep, his warm breath fanning over your skin, you smile before kissing his forehead.

“Thank you,” you whisper before closing your eyes.

[topazy]

Hunted

Pairing: Liam Dunbar x reader

Warning: None

Chapter: 6.05

You sit in silence watching as Liam wraps tape around his lacrosse stick; nothing you could have said would change the way he feels. The ghost riders had taken all the people your pack tried so hard to protect, but Liam had taken it the hardest and was blaming himself. He arrived at the science lab just as the ghost rider that was trying to attack you vanished, looking so defeated and broken.

You presume it was the presence of a hellhound that scared the ghost rider off.

Hearing footsteps, you lift your head up, forcing a smile when Hayden, Mason, and Corey walk into the boys locker room. “What are you guys still doing here?”

Neither of you say anything.

“None of this was your fall.” Mason puts his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “There was just so much happening tonight, it was impossible to save everyone.”

After the game, Coach had made Liam team captain, and under any other circumstances he would have been delighted; becoming captain was something he had wanted for so long.

Feeling your phone vibrate, you walk to the other side of the changing room. The sound of static keeps interfering. “Scott, I can’t hear you.”

His voice comes through like mumbling.

“Can you say that again?”

He repeats himself, but this time his voice is clearer. The phone starts to slip from your grip, but Hayden is by your side and catches it before it hits the ground.

“What’s happened?” Liam wraps his arm around your waist, holding you upright. “Babe, what’s happened?”

“My uncle Chris is in the hospital.”

—

“You should be in school.”

Hearing your uncle's voice, you sit upright in the hard plastic chair you were starting to doze off in. Seeing him with so many injuries made tears well up in your eyes; it was bringing back the pain of losing Allison. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

He strokes the back of your back, “I’m going to be fine.”

“I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Just as you begin to hysterically sob, Melissa comes into the room and kneels down so she’s level with you. “Hey, Chris is going to be fine. Argent’s are made of rubber.”

Y/n Argent.

That didn’t feel right.

You wanted… It definitely wasn’t your mom, and you don’t have a dad anymore. Not since Kate killed the man she let you believe was your father for most of your life.

“I just feel so alone.”

Melissa pulls you in for a tight hug and says, “You’re not alone. I think you should stay with me and Scott until Chris is out of the hospital.”

“Thank you,” your uncle gives her an appreciative nod.

They make eye contact and share an intense look, one you try to ignore. The last thing you needed to think about was whatever was going on between the two of them.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Melissa stands back up and awkwardly breaks eye contact with your uncle, her cheeks turning red. She clears her throat while smoothing out her scrubs. “I have a spare key in my locker; I’ll go and get it. Unless you want to wait until I finish my shift.”

“I better go to Liam’s house first; I left my backpack for school at his. I can text Scott and ask him to pick me up on the way back home. But thank you; this means a lot.”

She gives you a warm smile, “Don't worry about it. You're in Scott's pack, and that makes you family.”

—

Feeling exhausted, you flop down onto the bed beside Liam. You chuckle lightly when Liam outstretches his arm so you can cuddle into him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you ever get the feeling something is wrong but you can’t fully understand or explain what’s wrong? I just... something has changed, but I’m not sure what.”

“I need to see what you just said in writing.”

You both laughed; you were so exhausted your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “I just need to sleep before trying to have a real conversation again.”

“Scott knows you're here, doesn’t he?”

After showering, you said goodnight to Melissa and Scott. You went to sleep in the spare room, but you had this gnawing feeling in the back of your mind that Liam wasn’t okay, so you snuck out of the McCall house by climbing out of the window. We went to the Dunbar house. Melissa probably wouldn’t have been too happy, but unless she came to check on you during the middle of the night, she wouldn’t know.

“Yeah, Scott most definitely knows.”

“I can give you a lift back in a couple of hours before Mrs. McCall gets up.”

You cuddle closer into him, “Thanks.”

Liam kisses your forehead, “But in the meantime, try and get some sleep.”

Not long after your eyes shut over, you begin to dream of different things, and even while in a dream-like state, you still feel a sense of deja vu. You see a board with different names on it, but none of them are clear enough to read. You are in a hospital bed, and someone is holding your hand, but you can’t see beyond their arm. And the last thing you remember seeing is seeing writing on your hand.

ᗩᖇGEᑎT ᕼᗩᒪE

[piastrinorris]

Firsts

Pairing: Tom Grant x f!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut

Tags: Make Up (film), 18+ (minors DNI), slow burn, underage alcohol content, virgin! tom and virgin!reader, protected sex (if tom can wrap it, so can you), just the fluffiest smut i've ever written tbh, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v,

Summary: A boy you met in the playground has a far greater effect on your life than you could have imagined.

Word count: 12k

A/N: Ugh, hopefully this signifies the end of my writer's block. Thanks for hanging in there, gang! Enjoy my first Tom fic <3

Age 4

You sit on the roundabout cross-legged, indignantly pressing your hands into your cheeks. You look over at some of the other kids, playing with their friends. You wish you could have friends here too. Even though your parents took you here on holiday, and there’s loads of stuff at the holiday park specifically catered to kids your age, the most they’ll do is bring you to the park for half an hour or so before dragging you along to all the stupid, boring things that they want to do.

A boy with curly hair that sticks out in all directions and brown eyes that glisten when the midday sun hits them saunters up to you. “Hiya. Are you waiting for anyone else?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No, it’s fine. You and your friends can have it.”

“Oh, I’m here by meself, too! Well not by meself, me mam’s here too, but I thought we could take it in turns!” He outstretches his hand, “I’m Thomas!”

You snort out a laugh. “Like the tank engine?”

“Shut up,” he frowns, making you giggle again.

“My dad’s friend’s name is Freder-eder-ded- Fredrid- Frederick, but we just call him Fred ’cause it’s easier. Maybe I can call you… Tom.”

His eyes light up. He has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. “I’d like that. Tom. Yeah. Thanks.”

“Your voice is weird,” you point out.

“Shut up!” he repeats. “Yours is the weird one.”

"Well, I've never heard one like yours before so that makes it weird. Now c’mon, you can spin me first,” you tell him, and with that, he wraps his hands around the metal pole of the roundabout and runs as fast as his tiny legs will take him.

Age 13

Another year, another caravan holiday. The older you get, the less tolerance you have for your parents’ boring excursions. But you absolutely love the downtime in between where you’re just at the caravan park. Because it means you get to hang out with your best friend.

As sad as you are to see your tradition go, of the pair of you picking out postcards for each other to spend all your holiday pocket money on to send to each other throughout the year, you are very excited to show him your birthday present since the last time you saw him.

“Hiya,” comes a familiar call from behind you as you sit at the roundabout that you first met Tom on. You run to him, with his arms outstretched wide, flinging your own around him as soon as you can reach him. His face buries into your cheek as you hug each other, his laughter filling your ears. “Got summat to show ya,” he says as you’re still embraced before pulling away.

“Oh, I have something to show you, too!” you grin, both of you fumbling through your pockets before you both brandish your mobile phones to each other.

With excited gasps, you recite your own numbers that you've memorised to each other, and immediately text each other, despite being feet away. You read your messages on each others’ screens as though it’s the most amazing thing you’ve ever come across.

The two of you walk down to the beach together, babbling on about school life and home life and everything in between life. You notice that Tom goes quiet after a little while, which isn’t like him. You sit down on a log you’d both claimed a few years ago, and Tom picks up a branch from the ground near it and starts drawing absent-mindedly in the sand. You ask with a frown, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah!” he lies, but you glare at him.

“Liar,” you shove him, and he laughs softly. “You think I can’t tell by now? What’s really wrong?”

He sighs, “Well… You know my best mate, Jake?” You nod. “Well, he got a - got a girlfriend last year.”

“You make that sound like that’s the worst thing in the world,” you laugh.

“Obviously it’s not,” he pulls a face at you. “But, like… I’m gonna have to… Kiss a girl at some point soon, aren’t I? It’s all Jake asks of me these days.”

You giggle, “What, is someone still afraid of getting girl germs?”

“No!” Tom elbows you in the side. “I’m...Worried I’ll be shit at it.”

You roll your eyes, “Nobody expects you to be good at it right off the bat!” Tom keeps looking at you sadly and you sigh. “What, you want to practise or something?”

Tom's eyes widen, then he nods slowly. “If that’s okay with you...”

You shrug, “I haven’t had any experience either, so...” you trail off. "I'll probably be shit, too."

“R-right, w-well,” Tom stammers, “I think I- I come over like this, a-and...” he leans towards you, resting a hand on your hip. He leans in close to you, tilting his head both ways. You try and match his movements, but at the last minute his nose crashes into yours and you both laugh nervously.

You try to play it cool, try to breathe deeply in case he can hear your heart thumping too. You’re so close to him right now you can see the little dip left by the dimple that forms when he smiles. The specks in his eyes that glow in the sun. Tom has been the love of your life - but you can’t say that, you’re only 13, you’ve barely lived.

You hold his jaw in place and move to him. His lips are smooth, warm, full, simply invigorating. He doesn’t respond at first, and you feel like kissing just his top lip probably isn't right, but after a few pecks from you he starts to kiss back. Feeling him push out to you makes you crave even more. He carries on with even more fervour until he suddenly stops, pulling back and whipping his hand back into his lap. He mumbles a “thanks” and goes back to poking the sand with his stick.

Your chest feels as though it’s made of lead. You excuse yourself and run all the way back to your caravan, heading straight to your bed and sobbing into your pillow. Of course he hated kissing you.

You do everything you can to avoid Tom for a while. You immerse yourself in everything your family wants to do, constantly asking what they’ve got planned to go out and do, emphasis on the go out bit. You switch your phone off so as not to be distracted by his texts. You rarely leave the caravan.

It’s only on the second-to-last day that your parents basically kick you out of the caravan for the day. Despite them giving you plenty of money to play in the arcade with, you find yourself sitting on one of the swings in the playpark, rocking yourself back and forth absentmindedly.

You don’t notice Tom approaching you, you’re too immersed in trying to think of anything else but him. He clears his throat to get your attention. You notice he’s breathless and red in the face, like he’s been sprinting. With a heavy heart, you nod at him in acknowledgement. “Hiya,” he starts softly.

“Hey.” you reply bluntly. You don’t mean to be so cold to him, you don’t want to be - but you have to be.

“You’ve been mad distant lately, are you all right?” Tom asks, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Nope, I’m half left, see,” you wave your left hand in the air half-heartedly and Tom chuckles.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.” He chews on his lip before continuing, “Is it because of how I kissed?” You think about whether or not to answer honestly when he continues sadly, “Was I really that bad at it?”

You sigh and shake your head. “No, you were fine. I...I’ve been busy with holiday stuff! Parents, you know how it is.” You're lying through your teeth, but what did you expect? For Tom to also fall for you as soon as your lips connected? Of course not.

“Right,” Tom breathes out a sigh of relief before continuing, “but you normally don’t go along with that, if you can help it… Does that mean you don’t want to hang out with me any more?” His voice falters back to sadness.

“Well, no,” you blurt out before you can think of something else. Damn. You didn’t want to outright say no because you can’t keep making yourself feel like this. But you look at his smile, at the dimples that you could place on him from memory, at his eyes lit up like a Christmas display, at how his freckles dance up his cheeks, and all of that flies out the window.

“Good! Because - Well, it’s a bit stupid, I know, but they’re doing a thing in the entertainment hall tonight, since it’s most kids’ last day here before school starts, a-and I...I was wondering if...” he starts wringing his hands together.

“You’re worried you’ll look like Billy No-Mates if you turn up without a date and you don’t know any other girls here well enough,” you state simply.

“There’s… More to it than that,” Tom scrunches his face up.

Of course, what you’re unaware of is that Tom is terrified he’s lost you for good. That him being so nervous about being too eager to kiss you that he had to stop himself has been too obvious and ruined your first kiss and that he’s lost the girl he loves. But he won’t admit that. He’ll let you believe whatever you want as long as he gets to spend time with you again. As long as he gets to watch the sparkle in your eyes dance when you laugh, and the little twitch of the nose you do right before you start to think deeply about something, that’s all he wants back.

You, blissfully unaware of this, shrug in defeat, “Sure. It’ll be nice to catch up over the last few days, I guess.”

Tom grins, “Alright, sound! I mean, I doubt we’ll really be able to catch up at the dance, but...We could always grab dinner together at the restaurant bit beforehand, just me an’ you?”

“Sounds good,” you press your lips together and nod. Tom grins and waves goodbye as he leaves the park, leaving you to curse yourself. You’re just letting him walk all over you - to you, Tom is now your first friend, first kiss, first dinner date, first dance date; you feel like to Tom you’re just a test dummy.

Age 16

You knew he had a girlfriend, now. He’d phoned you about Ruth in the early days of knowing her, and despite everything, you’d talked him into asking her out. He deserves that happiness, even if he can't get it with you.

She had seemed really interested in getting to know you, too, at first. Tom was always telling you that she’d been asking questions constantly about you, and that he couldn’t wait for the two of you to meet. “My girls,” he’d always say. Your heart would soar 50 feet into the air just to plummet a hundred at those words.

Phone calls became less frequent as months went on. After you’d sent over your Christmas card and present to him, as per your tradition, you only got back a card that had your name written at the top, and “- Tom” at the bottom. Not the “Love,” that would always come before it. Not the little kiss he’d always put underneath his name. That really stung.

What was once a constant stream of texts from wishing each other good morning to goodnight every day for the last 3 years becomes occasional, which becomes non-existent. He doesn’t even text you on your birthday.

You beg and you plead with your parents to not go on the annual Cornwall holiday. Anywhere but. You’re 16 now, that’s plenty old enough to stay at home on your own. You’d be more than happy to have a neighbour check in on you regularly and spontaneously. Or a family member. Even your worst enemy, just - not there. Not facing him. And besides, you’re almost certain he won’t be alone with his parents this year.

And you’re right. She’s hanging off of his arm all the while the other regular teens crowd around them. They’re all just as much your friends as they are his. But this year you don’t feel welcome around them.

And it’s not just jealousy on your part. You’d even tried to be friendly. You’d practically skipped up to the both of them on your first day, after a lot of mental preparation, to a judgemental stare from Ruth that started from the moment she laid eyes on you, to the moment you left her field of vision. It burned especially strongly when Tom hugged you in greeting, even if you could have gotten a more meaningful exchange with a Lego figurine, with a just as emotionless, "Hiya."

It hurts when you end up seeing Ruth and Tom together and she’s the one who notices and suddenly drapes herself over him. It hurts more when it’s him that sees you first and he takes her by the hand and simply runs off with her.

It hurts the most when you catch them kissing on your log. Once again, 3 years later, you’re running from that beach to your caravan and you’re curling up in your bed crying your eyes out. Except, this year’s trip won’t end in a dinner where he feeds you his chips just because you didn’t ask for any with your meal and he wants to make sure you don’t nick all of his. It won’t end with a DJ asking everyone - and he means everyone - to make their way to the only slow-dance of the night, and Tom goofily dancing in ultra slow motion as he eventually encourages you to do the same. It’ll end in him doing that with her, while you sit and eat whatever your parents can make out of whatever’s left in the fridge and fight back the tears you haven’t yet cried while in the privacy of your own room.

It makes sense, after all. Tom being your first love, he was always destined to be your first heartbreak, too.

Age 17

You hear a moan fall into your mouth, you feel a hand grip on your arm. Another rests on your thigh. Your hand moves up to his hair, burying deep into his soft, brown curls. Except it doesn’t. It barely scrapes through the cropped, straight hair of your boyfriend. 

You’d so loved that the guy on the other side of the classroom in your college class had noticed you, had asked you out. Your parents love him, your friends back home love him. And, as it had turned out, he’d even been holidaying at the same caravan park you always do. It’s just that while your family normally goes at the end of the summer break, his goes at the start. Your family let you go with his this year instead, which you’re thrilled about. Hopefully you can create memories with your boyfriend in Cornwall with absolutely no trace of Tom, who’s surely only going to be there in the last week, like always.

You don’t believe it when you see him and her in the distance, outside the window. You think you must be making it up. There’s no way. It’s only fleeting, so you shake it off and try to focus on being in the moment with your boyfriend. He takes you by the hand, leads you to your bedroom for the next week, sits you both on the bed and starts kissing you intensely. That’s when you start imagining him as Tom, again. This is exactly the opposite of what you wanted to happen.

Later on, when you’re on your way to the arcade, you spot an old friend from past trips. She excitedly greets you, states her surprise over seeing you so early in the summer, and tells you that she works here now. She tells you of a staff party that’s happening in one of the luxury chalets. It’s apparently a tradition, first weekend of every summer holiday period, the staff club together and buy it out for a weekend. She invites you both along, and you gleefully accept.

You speculate all week about what your first house party is going to be like. What being drunk for the first time is going to be like. Your boyfriend laughs at you every time. "You're hilarious. I can't wait to see how sloppy you get."

That makes you nervous. How much alcohol does it take to get you wasted? You were hoping to make sure you stayed of enough sound mind to remember it all. Would you really inevitably get "sloppy" and embarrass yourself?

When the party's finally in full swing, you're insistent on sticking to cans of soda. Your boyfriend frowns at you, demands to know why you're suddenly so shy over drinking after it being all you could talk about. You tell him you just need to build up to it, that it's a first time which makes it a big deal. He rolls his eyes and mutters something about first times and walks away.

You frown at that. There's only two main things about you and firsts. The fact that you and Tom may never share any more, which you've never discussed with your boyfriend; and that the first time the two of you had tried going beyond kissing, he'd called you…

No, you're not thinking about that. He said he's sure it's something you'll get over, and once you are, he'll be ready for you. You just need to try and rein it in for yourself. Did he resent you because you hadn't managed to keep it under control yet?

Your brain is swimming when you hear the one voice you'd simultaneously been waiting for and dreading. "Hiya!"

Taking a deep breath in and putting on a brave face, you feign surprise. “Oh my god, Tom! Hi! What are you doing here?!”

“Well, Ruth had made friends with one of the girls that works here, Jade, and she invited us - well, Ruth, but, y’know, we’re sort of a package deal,” he laughs awkwardly. “Um, so, what are you doing here?”

“Hayley works here now, an’ all! Remember her?”

Tom laughs under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t surprise me in the slightest. ’Member how she was always the first to volunteer to get on stage?” You both laugh loudly before faltering into a weird silence. “So, found your tipple of choice, yet?” he asks, gesturing to the plastic cup in your hand.

“Oh!” You shake your head. “Not yet. I wouldn’t even know which one to start with. I’ve, uh, I’ve never really drank before.”

Tom chuckles, “Hey, me neither! Was gonna play it safe and go for a beer. Fancy indulging in my first one with me?”

“We’ve shared enough by now, haven’t we?” you ask with a small smile. 

“So,” he starts as you both head into the kitchen. “You never really explained why you’re here this early.”

“Didn’t I? I’m here with my boyfriend and his family,” you explain.

Tom’s face falls, though you’re too busy navigating your way past everyone at the party to notice. “O-oh… Boyfriend? Is he… Y’know, good to you, an’ that?” He asks, his energy suddenly depleted.

“Yeah! Yeah, he’s great. Dunno where he is at the moment, but I’ll have to introduce you both while we’re here,” you nod.

“Definitely! I’ll let Ruth know you’re here, she can say hi to you an’ all.” Tom thankfully doesn’t notice your eyes rolling as he studies the drinks now in front of you both. Tom looks over his shoulder at you and jerks his head at the kitchen counter. “Pick our poison, then.”

You shrug, “I dunno, you said beer? Let’s go with that.”

Tom nods, grabbing a couple of bottles and an opener, clicking the lids off and handing one to you. “To us, eh? Finally growing up.”

WIth a defeated smile, you clink your bottle against his and you both take your first sips. Tom immediately pulls a face of disgust, which then turns to intrigue. He looks over at you and laughs as you stand there, looking as though you’ve squeezed an entire lemon out onto your tongue. “Maybe we’ll get you something sweeter. ’Ere, how about one of these flavoured vodkas? Stick some of that in with your Coke.”

You and Tom stay and chat for the best part of an hour, catching up on everything. It’s the happiest you’ve felt in a long while. Certainly this whole week. But then he talks about finding Ruth and for the first time all night, you think about where your boyfriend could be.

You take a lap of the cabin. And another. And another. Each time more and more anxious. Calling his name out is getting you nowhere.

And then you see a flash of him getting pulled into another room. You don’t see the other person. Their arm is especially slender, their painted nails gripping his shirt as he grins down at them. You stare at the door as it closes, in pure shock and horror.

Your ears ring until you eventually hear a faint, but familiar, “Hiya, what’s going on with you? You’ve been up and down like a bleedin’ yoyo!” Tom notices your lack of response and frowns. “What?” As you still don’t answer, he follows your line of vision and points, “In that door?” Your lip quivers and his face steels. “Right.”

The next few seconds happen in slow motion and high speed all at once. Tom swinging the door open. His, “You better not be who I fucking think you are, mate.” Him getting pinned against the wall by your (as of right now) ex. Tom spitting in his eye to get dropped. Your boyfri- ex-boyfriend’s, “Is she as fucking disgusting with you as she is with me?” as Tom tries to walk away. Tom’s face absolutely seething as he turns back around, strides up to your ex and punches him square in the face.

Finally, you find it in you to scream at Tom to stop, and then turn to your ex. “The actual fuck is wrong with you?! Acting a victim just because I was catching up with a friend while you were chatting girls up in the same fucking house?!”

“You know what? Fuck this. Make your own way home. Bitch,” your ex snarls as he pushes past you to the front door as he storms out of it.

You hear a, “What the fuck happened to you?!” and see Ruth approach with her new friend, a girl with just-above-shoulder-length hair. Ruth’s looking at Tom’s red knuckles in horror.

“I’m fine, babe, honest. It were just… That dickhead was feeling up some other bird while…” He gestures weakly at you.

Ruth presses her lips together and nods, “Right. So you’ll punch a guy for her, yeah?”

He groans, lolling his head back. “C’mon, Ruth, don’t be like that now, please. You know I’d do the same if it were you. Or even Jake, or any one of my friends, alright? Don’t mean nothin’.”

“Yeah, well. Think I’m gonna sleep over at Jade’s tonight, anyway. Wanna see how the staff live,” she explains, gesturing to her friend.

Tom looks a little dejected, but he shrugs it off. “Alright, it’s your holiday, too. Have fun. I’ll text you in the morning, yeah?” She nods, and he goes up to kiss her. You look away, wincing. She scowls at you as she walks past you to leave. 

Someone else in the crowd snorts, “Don’t you think that’s a bit fucking dodgy?”

“What is?” Tom asks, turning to face them.

“Accusing you of cheating on her with a ‘friend’ and then conveniently sleeping over with a friend of her own?” They fold their arms to raise their eyebrows in suspicion at Tom.

He merely shrugs, carefree. “Exactly. It’s perfectly normal to just have friends, alright?” He sounds a little exasperated at that, holding his hands up. “It’d only be dodge if I were also up to no good. But I’m not, because I know that it’s okay to just hang out with a friend every now an’ then.” He looks at you and shrugs. “Listen, don’t worry about tonight. Mum and Dad had us in a twin room, anyway, I can pull the beds back apart again if you need a place to sleep. Till then, we can stay here, long as you like. Alright?”

You nod gratefully, pushing out a whispered, “Thank you.” 

You hug him tightly and he gives you just as much back, rocking you gently from side to side before rubbing up and down your back and offering, “So, how’s about we go back and demolish all the vodka and coke in that kitchen, yeah?”

You awaken in a single bed, next to another single bed that has a stirring Tom in it. He looks over at you, rubbing his eyes awake, “Hiya.”

You groan, “Of all the first encounters we’ve had, I’m begging you to have looked into how to deal with our first hangovers.”

He snorts with laughter. “‘’Fraid not. Looks like we’re suffering together.”

“Fantastic,” you whine as you throw yourself to lay on your other side.

Age 18

Even now that you’re legally an adult, that caravan park in Cornwall never evades you. You’d wanted to go on one of those big pre-university holidays to Spain or Greece like most 18 year olds do, but too many plans kept falling through and things kept going wrong and so, in order to catch some kind of break, you end up giving into your friend Hayley’s offer to stay with her for the holiday period. The friend that works there.

The staff living quarters are identical to the rest of the caravan park, with the exception of a common area with a bonfire. As you’re carrying your suitcase past it, you spot her. Again. Of course. You await the disgusted glare she’s about to give you, but she doesn’t seem to acknowledge your existence in the slightest. Hayley catches up with you, notices, and nudges you, “You know, she’s actually a lot more chilled out now that she’s with Jade instead.”

You double-take so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. “She’s wi- You mean, with?” Your friend nods. “Aww. Well, good for her, I guess.”

Once you’re in the caravan, you take out your phone and tap through to yours and Tom’s text history. You read back the last text you’d had from him, almost a year ago:

Hiya. Hope you’re alright, and you got on the train okay. Listen, I know I said all that guff about us just being friends, and I know that’s what both of us have always been, but Ruth’s proper upset about it. It was really good to see you again, but I don’t think we should talk while this is still fresh. Safe travels.

You wonder why he never thought to text you even after they’d broken up. Did he even want to hear from you again? You bite the bullet and text anyway:

Hey, stranger! Heard about you and Ruth. Sorry to hear it. Hope you’re doing well.

Hiya, yourself! Yeah, thanks, I’m holding up. Better for us all, really. How’d you hear, if you don’t mind me asking? x

Saw her at the caravan site and she didn’t give me evils, lol. 

YOU’RE HERE?! :D x

Yeah! 

Wait, when you say *here*...

What caravan are you staying in? x

One of the staff ones, 159. Why?

He doesn’t text back as quickly after that, so you instead start fixing up some lunch for you and your friend. She goes down to the shop to pick up something for the two of you to drink, and while you have the caravan to yourself, there’s a hurried knocking at the door. You assume Hayley told her bosses that she’s got someone living with her over the summer - she does have one of the ‘luxury’ two-bed caravans, after all - so there should be no problem with you answering it.

You don’t even get a good look at who it is before you’re being swept up in their arms and backed into the caravan, but you recognise that scent, that grip, that swooping feeling in your stomach. That laughter in your ear, followed by the greatest word in the English language, “Hiya.”

“Oh my god! What are the chances that you - oh my god!” You yell excitedly as you see him in his uniform. He twirls himself from side to side with a proud smile to show it off. “You got a job here, too?!”

He grins, “Yeah!” but it falters. “’Course, it would’ve helped if I’d’ve known my ex was dumping me for someone else who works here before I accepted but,” he shrugs, “swings and roundabouts. Speaking of! They’ve got rid of our park.”

You gasp sorrowfully. “What? No!”

“I know! They’re redoing the whole thing,” he pouts.

“I mean, to be fair, it was getting close to becoming an actual death trap,” you point out. “Last year, I don’t think the roundabout even actually spun anymore!” You both laugh as Hayley returns.

“Oh! Alright, Tom! See you’ve found my fugitive for the next six weeks.”

“Sure have! Can I nick her for a bit, though? Got some catching up to do,” he looks at her hopefully, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

She looks between the two of you before grinning, “Yeah, why not? I can make my own lunch, away with you both!”

“Have you not had lunch yet, then?” Tom frowns as you both walk down the steps of the caravan.

“Mate, I literally just got here,” you gesture to your car as Tom falls into a pile of giggles.

“Alright, mate,” he nudges you with his elbow as he mocks you. “How’s about we take full advantage of my new staff discount,” he waggles an ID card between his fingers, “and go get you your own chips for once?”

“You remembered!” You cackle. “And they’re way tastier when they’re not mine.”

All through your meal, as you catch up, there's a very large elephant in the room that Tom isn't addressing. After a post-lunch walk ends up taking you to your log, the bittersweet punch that hits your chest finally has you speak up as Tom sits on the log, sprawling his legs out in front of him: "Why didn't you ever text?" Tom presses his lips together as he takes a deep breath in and out. "I know… I know you said that Ruth didn't like you talking to me, and while that was shit, I kinda get it. But… Why didn't you…?"

"Reach out after we broke up?" Tom asks, bending his knees to rest his elbows on as he rubs his face with his palms. "I don't fucking know, is my honest answer. I thought about it, if that helps. Probably fucking doesn't," he mutters. "I just… Assumed you'd hate me for letting a girl come between us."

"Well… A little," you admit, finally sitting down next to him. "Hate you more for assuming I'd hate you, though." Tom shoves your shoulder as he laughs softly, and you chuckle quietly, too.

"Let me make it up to you?" he asks. "Dinner at my caravan later?"

You groan, "Please tell me you've learned to do more than put tinned spaghetti on a slice of uncooked bread."

"As long as you eat it like a sandwich, ain't nothing wrong with it," he beams. "But, just for you, I'll make it proper special, yeah?"

"Ooh, like a date? Do I have to dress up?" You tease, and he laughs loudly.

"I distinctly remember you wearing jeans on our first date, so you've set the bar pretty low there."

You look at him in mock offence, "Excuse you! Those were my smart jeans that had the sequin dolphins on them! I felt like a little celebrity in those," you reminisce.

"You can wear what you like, just… Maybe no bedazzled fish this time, eh?" He glances over at you side-eyeing him and interrupts you before you can start correcting him, "I know, I know, dolphins are mammals, actually." He collapses into a fit of giggles, losing the accent he's using to mock yours as he squawks at you trying to push him off the log entirely.

"Can't believe you remember that, and all," you smile fondly.

"Of course. Still got that toy one I bough-" Tom interrupts himself, but you silently encourage him. "I, uh, we had a school trip to the aquarium. An' they had a - a little gift shop there, they had these toy dolphins. I bought one to give you years ago, but I just… Never got round to it."

“Ruth stopped you?” you guess, and he pulls a face in response. You copy him, “You’ll just have to give it to me when you come visit me in Nottingham, won’t you?”

He sits bolt upright. “You what?!”

You giggle, “I got into Nottingham. For uni, I mean.”

“Shit, that’s huge! Grats!” he pins your arms to your side in a quick squeeze. "An' there's a bus that goes straight there from Derby, so there'll be no escaping me!"

Your eyebrows knit together, "You not staying here year-round?"

He shakes his head. "I was gonna, when I first applied for it, but then… Well, things have changed now, in't they?"

You giggle, "I'll finally get to see your house for real!"

Tom gasps excitedly, "Shit, yeah, and Mum'll be dead happy to see you again!" He slaps his knees and stands up, "Right, well. This ain't getting me back to work, is it? Gotta make sure I clock off nice an’ early." He offers his hand out to you. "Wanna get up too, or are you staying here?"

You take his hand and let him pull you up to standing. "Nah, I better get back to Hayley at some point. Text me whenever you want me ’round, yeah?" You ask, trying not to grin stupidly at the fact Tom doesn't let go of your hand right away.

"Will do. In a bit, yeah?" he asks with a smile, holding your hand out to him for just long enough for you to speculate whether he was about to kiss it before letting it go, instead.

As you head straight back up the path next to the log, he goes across the beach for a minute, making his way to the other side of the park where he needs to be instead. You return to caravan 159 to see Hayley sprawled across the sofa, watching the tiny TV. She jumps up excitedly when she sees you. “So, how’d it go?” You explain that you have dinner planned with him tonight, but that you’re not certain what level of date to consider it. Hayley helps you go through the clothes you’d packed, but they were all either too casual or too going-out-y, outfits you’d planned for nights out at bars and nightclubs. Not exactly dinner-with-an-old-friend attire.

Hayley takes you by the hand to her room, where she starts pulling out dresses and holding them against you. You laugh, “Hayles! These are your show outfits, I can’t wear them!”

“Why not?” she frowns. “We’re the same size, I still get to choose which ones I wear every night so I’ll have plenty of options. And Tom and that never come and watch, so he’ll be none the wiser.” She waggles her eyebrows, wiggling the dress in her hands from side to side. “Come on,” she drawls the last word, stretching it out. “You know you want to.”

You snatch it from her and scoff, “If I take this, will you stop?”

She grins wickedly. “Not until you’ve shown me what undies you’re gonna wear, too!”

You feel your face grow warmer as you shake your head, “And what does that have to do with the price of fish?!”

She cackles, “You know.”

“I know nothing, remember? I’m still yet to… Y’know,” you falter. Hayley doesn’t quite know the full extent of yours and Tom’s friendship, only knowing that you’ve both been coming to this park as long as she has. She doesn’t know that there’s ample ammo for her to tease you about tonight, and you put all your energy into calculating everything you’re about to say to make sure you don’t slip up. That’s the last thing you need.

“Is that why you’ve got these?” she asks with a giggle, already back in your bedroom and scooping up a pair of lace panties with her finger from the packing cube you’d assigned for underwear.

Your face now a furnace, you chase after her with a, “Shut it!” as you snatch them away. “They’re for if we ever go… Y’know, out anywhere. Sometimes it just gives you a little boost to wear a cute matching set, know what I mean?”

She grins, “I know, I’m just yanking your chain. Wear what you want, as long as you look good doing it.” Her voice gets quieter as she heads back into the main room of the caravan, until she calls out loudly, “So, where is he taking you, do you know?”

“He says he’s going to cook for me,” you state as you press Hayley’s dress to your front and look in the mirror. “Yeah, said he’ll text me when it’s ready.”

Hayley suddenly reappears back in your doorway looking fearful. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah! Why shouldn’t I be?” you ask with a frown.

“You ever seen Tom’s cooking?”

You shake your head. “Not since we were about 14? And all he could do was heat up tinned spaghetti and dump it onto bread he didn’t even think to toast. But he said he’d do better, and that was four years a-” Your face falls at her expression.

“Babe. He was literally eating that for dinner yesterday when we called for him to come sit round the fire,” she tells you with raised eyebrows.

“So… I should… Just go there as soon as I’m ready?” You ask, nodding slowly, and Hayley mirrors you. She shows you from the window which trailer is Tom’s, and lets you finish getting yourself ready.

After showering, getting dressed - including the set of underwear that Hayley teased you about, even though you definitely don’t plan on having anyone else see it, it’s definitely just to give you the little boost of confidence you need - and applying as much make-up as you feel comfortable putting on for tonight - you give Hayley a quick hug, though she has you pose for some photos first to “commemorate” how good you look in her dress. She’s quick to usher you out of the door afterwards, though, telling you where she’ll bury her spare key so you can get back in (“If you get back in tonight,” she adds with an exaggerated wink as you roll your eyes at her and walk out) and pointing out one more time where Tom lives.

You knock on the door tentatively, but the muffled country music you can hear from the other side tells you that Tom probably can’t hear you. You try the door and it opens easily, allowing you to see Tom dancing around the tiny expanse of his kitchen, singing under his breath as he takes a handful of spaghetti out from its packet and throws it into a pot of boiling water as though it were a part of the way he’s dancing. 

Your phone still clutched in your hand, you go to position it in a way to start recording him, but he catches you. Instead of looking surprised, he simply beckons you over with one finger. Walking across to him, as he’s still singing and swaying, he holds his hand out, to which you give him yours and he twirls you around. “You look amazing,” he smiles at you breathlessly.

Trying not to get too flustered, you quickly reply, “You scrub up alright, yourself!” You gesture to him, looking down at his dress shirt and - “Oh, so when I wear jeans to have dinner with you, I get ridiculed, but -”

“Shhh-sh-sh-sh,” Tom shushes you with a smile, pressing his finger against your lips, which you laugh against. “How come you’re early then, eager beaver? Didn’t even need to tell you where I live.”

“Hayley told me. Warned me to come over and make sure I don’t get food poisoning or something,” you giggle, and Tom gasps, holding a hand to his chest.

“That cheeky cow!” He jokes before draping his arm over your shoulders and aiming you towards the stove. “Well, I’ll have you know, I’ve been cooking not just one, but two options. See, I couldn’t remember if you ate meat or not, so I’ve got some… Broccoli spaghetti dish on the go on this side, and then there’s sausage and rice in this big pot here,” he points out.

“At least none of it came out of a tin, good boy,” you smirk as you take a spoon from the utensil rack on his counter and start stirring the spaghetti around to make sure it all starts cooking. You continue stirring the different pots, asking Tom if there’s anything more to be done, but he simply carries on singing along to what you recognise playing now as Take Me Home, Country Roads, taking another utensil off the rack from where he stands behind you to sing dramatically into the handle as he side-steps back and forth around you. “Can’t believe you actually listen to this stuff,” you muse, shaking your head softly.

“What’d you mean?! It’s decent,” Tom pouts.

“Tom, my granddad listens to Jim Reeves,” you point out.

“Then your granddad’s got excellent taste, don’t he,” Tom grins before putting his hands on your hips. Your heart skips several beats as he gently pushes you out of the way. “C’mon, now, let me dish up. You go sit at the table, yeah?”

Your heart soars again when you see there’s already knives and forks laid out, as well as a candle off to the side. Tom soon follows, holding both plates out to offer to you. You pick the one you prefer and set it down in front of you. Tom puts his down on the other side of the table, fishing a lighter out from his back pocket to light the candle between you. “Shit, I forgot to pour the - d’you like wine? If not, I’ve got some Coke I can put in a wine glass to look dead fancy,” he calls from the kitchen area, where his head is buried in a cupboard.

“You’ve got wine glasses?!” You ask incredulously, leaning around to look at him. “I don’t even know you anymore!”

“Ha-ha,” he deadpans, throwing you a sarcastic smile before holding up the wine bottle. You signal your response and he fills up both glasses accordingly. “Bought ’em to impress a girl, dunno if it was worth it yet, though.” Everything inside you feels like lead again. Of course this wasn’t anything more than platonic. As he hands you the glass, he waggles his eyebrows, “Well? Was it?”

Relieved that you had nothing to worry about after all, you grin, “Am I supposed to be the girl you’re trying to impress? Even though I’ve watched you eat worms?”

He rolls his eyes as he takes his seat again. “It was one worm and it was because shitty Damien dared me, alright?” He defends with a smile, and you laugh. “And besides, I was six! You were no saint back then either, how many times did I eat figurative shit because a certain someone kept tying my shoelaces together?!”

“I can’t believe you never even realised when I was doing it, too,” you clutch your stomach as you sigh, coming down from the raucous laughter his memory had caused you. You offer your glass out to him, “Here, to old times, eh?”

“And new,” he smiles softly, clinking his glass against yours.

Conversation never runs dry between the two of you as you finally catch up properly over everything in the past three years. You laugh, you tease, you reminisce fondly. After dinner and a store-bought dessert that Tom still puts effort into looking fancy, the two of you retire to his sofa to watch whatever’s on TV. 

You deliberately sit so that there’s a little distance between you, not wanting to be presumptuous, and so when you try to sit comfortably, tucking your feet begins you, your rest your head on the back of the seat, ending up with your head just shy of brushing against Tom’s arm. You can sense him looking at you in your peripheral, and look over at him in question. When you make eye contact, he flashes his eyes at you and jerks his head to the side, silently offering you to shuffle up next to him. You do so, moving until your head ends up resting on his shoulder. He drapes his arm around you, holding onto your arm and squeezing it gently.

After a few minutes, you tilt your head up to look at him again. The faintest hint of stubble peeks through his skin, illuminated by a movie you’ve seen so often you could recite it, but it makes Tom laugh nonetheless. Eventually, he’s the one that catches you staring, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard.

You push yourself up on the couch a little to get a better look at his face. His gaze never leaves you, but he’s looking a little lower than your eyes. As he looks up at your eyes again, he licks his lips. “Tell me now,” he starts quietly. “Tell me to stop, an’ I will.”

You softly shake your head. “Why would I do that?”

Grinning with a sigh of relief, he reaches up to hold the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s a long one, starting out soft but pressing harder as it carries on. You sit up on your knees to angle yourself better, holding his face in your hands so as not to break the contact with him as your lingering pecks continue, but he quickly - considering it was blindly - taps one of your legs to insinuate that he wants hold of it. You shuffle around until he can grab your ankle to pull it until you’re straddling him.

Your arms rest on his shoulders as you keep kissing him. God, you never want to stop kissing him. The hand not still holding your head snakes between you to rub at your jaw, gently massaging it open to slip his tongue between your lips. You let out a whine involuntarily and curse yourself - your ex hated noises like that - but Tom only pushes you closer to him, humming into the kiss.

Finally, the two of you break away from each other, gasping heavily for air. You catch each other's gaze and share the same ear-to-ear smile. His pupils are blown out and his already plump lips look bigger and redder than ever. You have the urge to take the lower one between your teeth, despite not knowing if he’s into that.

Before you can do anything, he’s pulling you close again, though not to kiss your lips. Holding the back of your neck deliberately, he guides you down to start kissing just below your ear. The sensation you feel from it is like no other, and you find yourself whining and whimpering even more. The sounds only encourage Tom as he finds a sweet soft spot at the side of your neck and sucks on it especially hard. You didn’t expect the low moan to roll out of your mouth, nor did you expect that to cause Tom’s hips to buck up against you.

He stops suddenly, his head whipping back to look up at you. His pupils are blown to almost the size of his irises. “I, um… I’ve never… Sorry, I… Fuck, I dunno how to say this without sounding weird…”

You smile softly at him, playing with the curls behind his ears. “It’s okay. I haven’t, either.”

His face softens. “Then everything’s as it should be, right?” He smiles up at you, his hands moving to hold your hips. Something about his touch coupled with where you are makes you want to grind against him, and so you do, holding the back of his head to pull him close enough to rest his forehead against yours. His mouth suddenly dry, he swallows again. “We should probably move this to the bed… Right? More room an’ that.”

You climb off his lap and hold out your hand. He stands and takes it, leading you to the door between you and his bed. He wrenches the door open, then pulls your arm with enough force to send you crashing against him, chest to chest, before his hands find your jaw again to bring it up to resume kissing you. You giggle against his lips, “What happened to the bed?”

Tom presses another peck onto you. “Missed kissing you already,” he grins back against yours. Neither of your hands stop moving around, exploring each others’ bodies, until you can’t bear not feeling his skin against yours a moment longer. 

Moving to run your finger along his buttons, you look at him expectantly. “Can y-… Do you want…” 

With his trademark smile, Tom’s gaze never leaves yours as he undoes a few buttons before grabbing the back of his collar and throwing his shirt off completely. Entranced, you stroke all over his torso before tracing invisible lines between each of his freckles. Kissing every part of you that he can reach, he eventually pipes up, “Sort of feeling underdressed here.”

You look up to grin at him, “Actually, I think you’re wearing too much.”

“Yeah, course you would,” he smirks as his hands slide up your back to the fastening of your dress. He flashes his eyes at you, a silent request, and you nod. He slowly pulls down the zip until the dress, which you were able to just slide over your head anyway, falls off of your body and pools at your ankles. Tom leans back, looking you up and down as he takes you all in. You’d feel very exposed, were it not for the look in his eye. “Fuck me,” he exclaims under his breath. “You are fucking phenomenal.”

Smiling bashfully, you pull him back towards you by the belt loops of his jeans. “Now who’s overdressed, eh?” You ask as you press yet another kiss to his lips.

“Right,” he grins mischievously, pushing you back so that you fall onto his bed, “you get down there.” Giggling, you shuffle back towards his pillows, lay back to rest on your elbows and watch him unbuckle his belt. He notices and starts humming an unintelligible song that he goofily gyrates to, pulling his belt out and waving it around. You roll around laughing as he continues putting on the most Tom-like striptease for you. Once he’s kicked his jeans off, he clambers onto the bed, crawling up until he’s hovering over you, his face not even an inch from yours. He tilts his chin up until the tip of his nose bumps past yours and trails up your bridge, before bringing it back down and rubbing it against the tip of yours again, side to side. “Never thought this day would come,” Tom admits softly.

“Me neither,” you reply back in the same tone. “Never been more glad to be wrong.”

Letting a laugh slip between his lips, Tom nods, “Me, too.” He kisses your nose before looking down your body, letting his fingertips brush against the cup of your bra. Your breath hitches at his proximity, and he looks back at you to grin, “You sure you didn’t think this was happening?”

You pout, “It’s just nice to know that I look sexy, that’s all!”

“Fuck, yes, you do,” he growls as he leans back down to kiss you, his hand gripping your covered breast. You push yourself up and he pulls back, eyebrows knitted, as you reach back awkwardly to try and unfasten your bra. With another smile, Tom reaches over and takes over, fumbling a few times before eventually getting there. Impatiently, you move your arms to throw your bra aside, not caring where it lands, and Tom’s immediately transfixed on your naked chest.

You reach up to place a finger beneath his jaw, pushing it back up closed, and giggle as soon as you move it back and his jaw drops yet again. He reaches down to grab both of them, one in each hand, and a gentle rush of euphoria sweeps through you. He kisses you again, timing the press of his lips with the squeeze of his hands.

One hand moves from massaging your breast to slowly slide down your torso. This is it, where everything comes to an end. You await with bated breath, hoping he'll just rest his hand on your tummy while he kisses you, or something. But his hands dip lower, and just as you feel him lifting the elastic of your underwear, your hand flies to his wrist, gripping tightly. He stops kissing to look you in the eye, confused concern on his face. "Y'alright? Wanna stop?"

You swallow hard and shake your head. "It's… It's okay, you don't have to - I can- want to take care of you."

The concern in his expression grows. "This is a two-way street, love. If you don't want it, I'm not having it, either."

You pout, "No! It's not that I don't want it! I- I  do, so bad, I just…" You sigh. "So, the reason I've never gotten anywhere yet in this… Department, is because I… I tend to… Produce… A lot. And I get that that's, y'know, gross, so… You don't have t-”

Tom interrupts you by taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly. “You.” He says before kissing you again. “Are far from that.” Another kiss, and then his brow furrows. “You mean to tell me that dickhead -?” His eyebrows then raise in realisation. “When he asked if you were… ‘Disgusting’ with me, last year…” You nod slowly, and Tom turns his nose up. “Fucking wanker. Thank fuck you’re mine now, eh?” For years, you’d been used to your heart soaring just for it to drop. You feel that sensation reverse, the heavy weight of your ex’s insults flying off of you at Tom’s words, smiling back at him as his adoring eyes look down at you, his thumbs caressing your cheeks.

You slide your hands onto his shoulders with an, “Always was, really."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, taking one of your hands into both of his, holding the palm out to kiss it.

You bite your lip into a smile. "I, uh… Whenever me and my ex did used to… Try, the only thing that could get me going was…" You falter, looking up at him as he keeps kissing down your arm.

"Was what, angel? Didn't catch that last bit," he grins against your skin.

You giggle, "It was you, okay? Prick."

Tom buries his face in your neck, his mouth working the tender skin just below the mark he’d already left until you let out another moan, to which his hips roll down to grind against yours. With just two thin layers between you, you feel his thick member spread your lower lips beneath the lace of your underwear, and you instinctively rub yourself up and down his length, your legs wrapping around him. “Here, guess what,” he mutters into your ear.

“What?”

“I could only ever get off thinking of you, an’ all.” You feel his teeth against the shell of your ear as you can hear the grin in his voice. “So, does that mean…” He snakes a hand back to the elastic of your panties, working his fingertips beneath them, “That all this is for m- ohhh, fuuuuck,” he moans breathily as his fingers slide down into your wetness. “You get this turned on, just by me?” He asks, and you nod quietly, still not sure how to respond. He looks at you adoringly. “I must be pretty fucking fit, then, mustn’t I?” he asks, another, more arrogant, smile just pulling at the corners of his lips, and you laugh.

“You’re such a dickhead,” you scold, but honestly, it’s a massive comfort to you knowing that even in this most tender of moments, the dynamic of you and Tom isn’t lost. This feels good, natural, right. No need to fear anything. No need to worry. It’s just you and him. Like Tom said, as it should be.

“Oh, I am?” he asks teasingly, his expression growing more mischievous. “Even when I’m doing this?” He runs his middle finger down between your folds until it slides easily inside of you, guided by your wetness. You drop your head back into his pillows, moaning louder than ever and bucking your hips against his finger. “Fuuuck,” Tom groans, “you feel so fucking good.”

“Not too wet?” you ask quietly, and he pulls his finger back, sucks it clean while looking you dead in the eye, and then makes quick work of pulling your underwear off of you. 

Sinking down to lay between your legs, he sighs dreamily. “Absolutely not.” He laps all around at the mess you’ve already made noisily, cleaning you up before tracing his tongue carefully along your slit. Just as it brushes over your clit, your breath hitches and the whine underneath it lingers. Tom looks up at you, his big brown eyes warm and safe watching your reaction as he first sucks on the sensitive area, and then laps the tip of his tongue back and forth against it. Your hand flies into his hair as you moan and you feel his lips turn up against you.

Tom blindly finds your free hand to reach up and connect his fingers with yours, a tender bond as his other hand spreads you apart. Angling his head slightly, you watch his tongue fly quickly against you, his own moans echoing yours as you push his face against you, desperately craving more, you don’t quite know in what sense, you just want pleasure, you just want him. You feel yourself gushing around him and you start to feel a little tense. Feeling the change in you, the hand holding yours squeezes, a reassurance. 

He once again happily cleans up after you, muttering unintelligible sweet nothings inside of you as he does. You lock eyes with him again as he resumes sucking on your clit, moving to slide two fingers inside of you. While you certainly feel more full, it doesn’t hurt as much as you were warned it would, thanks to your… Overproduction. Instead, you feel a sensation you’ve never felt before. Stronger than you’ve ever even felt whenever you’ve pleasured yourself. You keen against his fingers, moaning and whining as he gently encourages you, “Fuck, yes, angel, that’s it… Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing around my fingers… Gonna cum all over my fingers, yeah? Do it, baby, cum for me.”

As though working on his actual command, you feel a rush through every nerve in your body, one that pushes its way from your core, spreading along your spine until it arches, across your arms until you’re grabbing the sheets, through your legs until they bend in the air above you. Not wanting to be loud enough to be heard throughout the whole park, you bite through your lip as you let out a long, high-pitched moan throughout your release. 

Tom doesn’t surface for some time as he drinks you in, finally re-emerging with shining lips and wild eyes. Wiping the excess of you off with the back of his hand, he crawls back up your body to kiss you, practically pushing your entire self into the mattress. “God, you are fucking incredible,” he grins against your skin as he moves to kiss your neck, this time just under your other ear.

“I can’t even pretend the same’s not true of you, a certain something’s betrayed me, there,” you joke, and he chuckles under his breath, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. “Be honest with me, though. It wasn’t… Too much, was it?”

“Not in the slightest, babe,” he whispers into your ear as he presses gentle pecks along your jaw and to your lips. “I’d happily stay down there and eat you out all night long, but…” He pushes himself up to kneeling, palming himself through his boxers as he looks at you hungrily. “I am fucking aching to be inside of you,” he admits. You go to reach out as well, but he bats you away with a soft smirk, “I’m already certain I’m not gonna last long at all, sweets, give me some credit.”

“I don’t care how long you last,” you smile wistfully, watching him climb off you and slide his boxers off, hypnotised by the way his cock springs out as the elastic waistband drags past it.

He glances over as he takes a condom out of his drawer and smirks, “Take a photo, won’t ya, it’ll last longer.” You’d react, but you’re still enamoured watching him roll it down his length.

He gets back onto the bed, lining himself up at you with a look in his eye like he can’t believe it’s finally happening. You feel his tip pressing into you and gasp, your lips forming a near-perfect O before spreading out into a smile. Tom mirrors you as his hands find yours, holding them both just either side of you as he pushes in. You certainly feel the pressure of him sliding in, but it’s far from painful. His eyes study your expression with concern, obviously anticipating you to be in pain as well, but you give him a reassuring smile and a nod as he starts pulling out and pushing himself back inside of you again.

His fingers and his tongue were enough to drive you wild earlier, but nothing on this earth has ever made you feel as good as him thrusting into you. He starts off slow and gentle, but your body yearns for more. As you start to buck your hips up against him, he once again rubs the tip of his nose against yours, stroking his thumbs along the sides of your hands as he shushes you. “Patience, sweets,” he soothes. “We’ve got all summer to fuck like rabbits… But tonight, I just wanna make love to you.”

Too euphoric to filter anything you say now, you breathe out an, “I do.” Tom looks at you, his expression a mixture of deliberation and elation. You beam widely, “You may be a dickhead, but I fucking love you.”

His smile practically touches his ears as he cradles your face with an, “I love you, an’ all, you big twat,” before leaning down to kiss you passionately, moaning against your lips with every thrust. As you lose yourself in the embrace, you feel Tom slip out from you. Again, you start to worry yourself, but Tom’s assuring stroke against your cheek as he simply guides himself back in and returns to kissing you with just as much fervour puts those fears at ease.

You feel the crescendo of another orgasm looming just as Tom’s expression starts to change, as well. Wanting nothing more than to climax alongside him, you try and hurry yourself along a little by rubbing your clit in circles. His pace slows as he watches you, entranced, though your body craves him more than ever. “Fuck, please, Tom, don’t stop,” you whine, and he groans as he resumes rocking his hips into you again.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, you know that?” He asks you breathlessly. “Keep going, baby, keep showing me how you touch yourself, fuck, that’s it.” 

“’M gett- fuck, I’m already close again, Tom,” you moan, and his motions lose any sense of rhythm, just trying desperately to release.

“Me too, sweets, I’m - fuck, I love you,” he groans as he snaps his hips harshly into you. That final press hits just the right spot inside of you and you feel yourself come apart for him yet again, squeezing around him as you ride your second wave of the night.

As you both come down, he presses soft kisses all over your face, down your neck, as far down your chest as he can reach while staying inside you until he finally pulls out. “I’d help you out again, but, uh, I think you’re probably a bit sensitive down there by now,” he grins, leaning up to kiss your forehead. “Let me go get rid of this thing and get you a towel, alright?” Unable to move, talk, or even really think, you simply nod at him, which earns you another breathy chuckle and another peck to the top of your head as he walks off.

He returns within a minute, and insists on gently patting you dry, the tenderness in his eyes matching his touch. You eventually muster enough energy to reach over to him and card your fingers through his curls. He leans into your touch, smiling over at you as you mutter, “I love you, too.”

“D’you know, I’ve never been happier to hear anything else.”

Once you’re all cleaned up, he lays next to you, and you lift yourself up to let his arm rest beneath your head. Curling up against his chest, you let him envelope you, enjoying the comfortable silence until he pipes up, “That was fucking amazing. Like, I knew it’d be good, but… You hear all these things about your first time. And I was always scared with Ruth that I’d mess up somehow, or I’d kill the mood, you know how daft I am. But it was all just… Part of it, weren’t it?”

You press your head into the crook of his shoulder. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I was always scared of the same, and then, well…” You gesture down between your legs.

“’Ey,” Tom scolds, reaching down to grab your wrist. “No more of that. It’s just the way your body works, yeah? And your body is fucking perfect. I’ll never stop proving that to you.”

And he really doesn’t. When you had first disclosed to Hayley that you were a virgin, the previous year when you’d come with your ex, she’d told you, “Sex is like Pringles; once you pop, you just can’t stop. At least, I think that’s the Pringles thing.” You’d always laughed that off, but now that it’s happened to you, it really is true. You wake up to it, you’re at it as soon as he’s finished his shift, just before you go to sleep. And then there’s the rest. Passing him while he’s working to sneakily grab, pinch or slap his ass cheek as you walk past, only for him to get his own back by “innocently cuddling” you from behind while also pressing himself against your own ass just once before placing a single kiss to your neck and running off. Your personal favourite is knowing all you have to do is send him a racy photo of you proving that you’re wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, and knowing that if you look out of the window you’ll see him running across the caravan park at top speed, leaping over any obstacle to then practically fly into his caravan and tackle you onto his bed.

You still try and maintain staying with Hayley for as long as possible, but with her being the evening entertainment, and her telling you that she was banning “all hanky-panky” at her place, that didn’t leave you with much else to do to spend your evenings than to hang out in Tom’s caravan with him, anyway. Not that she minded. Even when she would insist on a you-and-her day, it would mostly be to gossip about Tom, anyway.

There’s a few days when you start to wonder if perhaps Tom only wants you around for sex and nothing else. That all gets easily explained away when eventually Mother Nature clocks in for her monthly shift. You warn Tom that nothing can happen for the next week, and that you’ll probably just stay at Hayley’s again to avoid any stained sheets or exposure to sanitary products, but Tom remains as joined to your hip as ever. He buys heating pads, pain relief, snacks and drinks, extra products, anything you may need, happily letting you curl up in his lap in an attempt to soothe the cramps. A few days in, you even open up to him that you’d had doubts that he was only interested in getting into your pants, which results in many days’ worth of constant reassurance whenever you’re with him and texts of affirmations when you’re not. He certainly doesn’t turn down the gratuitous blowjob you give him as a result of being so patient on a night you know Hayley’s working especially late, though.

The last weekend of the last week of you being in Cornwall hits you like a brick wall. You’re constantly getting emotional, which only spikes every time you so much as look at Hayley or Tom. Tom reminds you that you’ll only see him in a couple of weeks anyway, once you move up north to university. And Hayley makes you both promise you’ll come back to Cornwall at every chance you can.

Tom meets you and your family in the car park of your uni halls, already waiting to help you move in. Both of your families have dinner together while yours are still in town, and as they part, they joke that the next time they’ll see each other is at your wedding. With your ex, even trying to plan to go to the same university together seemed daunting and unnatural. But you laugh along with Tom, safe in the knowledge that your collective parents’ joke is 100% truthful.

Age 19

After a year of university, you decide to move out of your dorm and into a place with Tom. Your first housemate, you love to remind him, though that spikes up a slightly more awkward conversation while cuddled up on the sofa. “So, we were first for a lot of things.”

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of our thing,” Tom teases.

“Piss off,” you scoff, elbowing him in the side as he laughs. “I mean, we were for pretty much everything, but not where it counts. You weren’t my first boyfriend, and I wasn’t your first, either. So, like, in terms of the way our relationship goes on through the years… I dunno, just sucks a bit that that’s like one of the only things we don’t have now.”

Tom deliberates for a second. “The way I like to see it,” he starts. “I consider you my first for a lot of sort of extraneous things, little things that add up to make us, us. But in terms of our relationship, it’s easy enough to explain.” You look over at him in confusion, and he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his finger and thumb to grin at you, pulling you close to mutter three words to you before pressing a long and sweet kiss to your lips: “You’re my only.”

[unordinary-diary]

Blyke and John: Parallel Characters

I’ve written multiple entries about this,

[x] [x] [x]

But I’m back to make a comprehensive analysis about the glaring similarities between these two. I’ll try not to repeat myself here.

‼️SPOILER WARNING for the whole series‼️ but this mostly focuses on the story before John’s suspension.

Firstly, this scene:

ch. 121

This conversation takes place near the beginning of the Joker arc. It’s after John targets Zeke, after he targets Juni, and the day before he goes after Seraphina’s kidnappers. The timing is important.

“If someone hit your best friend, would you let it slide?”

That question is supposed to remind us what John does to people who hurt Seraphina: hunting them down and sending them to the hospital. Blyke shooting a destructive beam really close to John was an example of a trait they share: they both blow up violently when people mistreat their friends.

John’s downward spiral carries strong themes of hypocrisy. He’s angry at the world, he’s angry at himself, and as a coping mechanism, he chooses to believe that everyone else is as bad as he is. That means that most of the traits he hates others for are the same things he hates about himself. In this scene, Blyke is unintentionally calling out this hypocrisy: “What I did is no different from what you do”.

But Blyke’s just trying to connect with John here, he has no idea what John’s been doing. And John, of course, doesn’t give a shit about what Blyke has to say. This line was here for the audience to notice.

They’re both so similar, but their similarity immediately causes tension between them because, well, John was on the wrong end of Blyke’s protectiveness.

I really love the way this was written— there are so many flashbacks to this scene, but they remember it differently. John remembers the part that hurt him— he’d describe it as “the time that jackass shot a beam at me”. Blyke remembers the part that hurt him, or rather, hurt Remi: “the time that jackass hit Remi for no reason”.

Blyke and John are both hotheaded characters with strong ideals. They’re similar enough that Seraphina points it out:

(ch. 80)

As Blyke grows as a character, he becomes more like John: sticking up for low tiers and speaking out against the injustice in the world. But while Blyke is doing that more, John is going in the opposite direction, until they are fully opposed to each other.

Speaking of Blyke’s character arc, it took me a few rereads to actually understand what part of him changed. His kindness, selflessness, bravery— all of those things were there from the start. Blyke’s character arc was about becoming more aware of his surroundings, and how his carelessness can harm others. Blyke was never malicious, but after X-Rei and integrating more with the school, he becomes aware of people suffering around him and how he unintentionally contributes to it. He becomes less reckless, privy to the flaws in the system he grew up not questioning, and uses his power more responsibly. He even comes up with a more controlled way to wield his ability. The part of Blyke that changes is his maturity.

Part of John’s character arc is also about being careful. It’s not as close of a parallel as other things are, but one of the things that John works on during his redemption arc is holding back. Both of them learn self-control throughout the series, and for John, that means acting early before his emotions spiral out of hand.

Adding onto my first point about the two of them wanting to protect their friends— the fact that they can’t do that makes them both angry and desperate. For most of the story, the “block” that prevents John from protecting Seraphina is in his head. It’s his own trauma that holds him back. The block that prevents Blyke from protecting his friends is, guess what? Also John’s trauma! Parallels abound.

Another thing I noticed in Episode 80 is this:

Notice that when Seraphina says “I’d take that over strength any day,” John is looking at the camera. He’s avoiding Sera’s gaze. Seraphina is saying she prefers honesty over strength. John is very strong, and very dishonest, but Seraphina thinks the opposite because John is so dishonest. John appears to be reflecting on this disconnect.

In relation to this analysis, Seraphina is actually pointing out a major difference between Blyke and John. Beyond that, she’s praising Blyke’s traits, (less strong but very open) above John’s traits, (strong as fuck but a liar with his pants on fire). Furthermore, John really cares what Seraphina thinks of him. Knowing that she would think less of him is the main reason why he spent so much time and effort preventing her from catching his lies.

This leads into my main point here: Blyke is the “goody-two-shoes” version of John. Or, more accurately, the person that John wants to be. Blyke has a clean track record and doesn’t really get into trouble. He is respected and left alone by the school without being hated and feared, he de-escalates conflicts without taking things too far, he doesn’t lose control, he’s someone Seraphina thinks highly of, hell, even his grades are better! Blyke represents everything that John wants to be, and the person that he could have been if he’d gone down a different path.

But, crucially, John is also what Blyke wants to be. Well, not wholly, but his ability? His strength? It’s one of the things John hates about himself, but Blyke wants that strength so desperately that he risks his life for it over and over again.

They’re both desperate to be like each other, even when they hate each other the most. Neither of them have any idea how alike they already are.

I don’t know what Season 3 holds in store for us, but I do hope that John realizes that Blyke embodies who he wants to be, because mutual jealousy would be a very interesting dynamic to explore in my opinion. I also hope that it ends up being something they can bond over, by helping each other accomplish their personal goals. (Blyke being another helper in John’s character arc, and John helping Blyke train.)

A side note: John beat up Blyke four separate times. That’s more than any other character, which is interesting because John’s main rival is supposed to be Arlo. For reference, John has beaten Arlo twice, three times if you count the time when Seraphina intervened, and he only beat him unconscious once. But John beat Blyke to the point of passing out all four times, the worst of which being a shot clean through his chest. (shoulder? Unclear. S1 finale).

It’s odd, isn’t it? Out of everyone, Blyke is the one who John physically hurt the most. John’s only grudge against him is an old memory from episode 33, of an event that didn’t actually harm him. John’s grudge against Arlo is much more serious and again— that’s his main rival. So why is it that he’s so much more violent towards Blyke?

The problem here is that I’ve been thinking about these fights as “John picking on Blyke”. And that’s… kind of true? But while Blyke didn’t start any of these fights, they were all consensual in a way. He didn’t seek to fight John, nor was he ever happy about fighting John, but he was always a willing participant.

(138, 153, 206, & 211)

In three out of these four fights, John didn’t even expect to be fighting Blyke going into it. This is significant because while Arlo is John’s main rival, John absolutely fills that role for Blyke. Blyke’s own agency is what leads to most of these events. The reason, narratively speaking, why they fight so much is not for John’s character, but for Blyke.

For John, his reason for fighting Blyke so much is not narrative but moreso symbolic. John is angry at everyone and everything, but ultimately the person he hates the most is himself. It’s only fitting that the character most like him would bear the brunt of his wrath.

As John is having his positive character arc (suspension and post-suspension), he is becoming more like Blyke, and the two of them reach a point where they’re even more similar than they were at the start of the series.

In the Rowden amusement park, John does start to realize how similar they are:

(249)

Additionally, I want to draw your attention to the parallels between this scene:

Blyke and John’s argument in chapter 249

(which the image limit won’t let me add, scroll until you see red hair.)

And this scene:

Argument in ch. 121 (it’s at the beginning)

Two sides of the same coin.

Furthermore, in the S2 finale, Blyke is shown being taken to Keon. There is an implication that by Season 3, Blyke and John will share Keon-related trauma as well. Despite my pessimistic predictions, I do hope that this is a similarity that can bring them together rather than tear them apart.