#a pang in my chest that proves my heart is still working | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ritual-unions · 5 months

Text

Say, Say My Playmate

Part Five of Wolf Like Me: Read the entire series here

Pairings: Ubbe x OFC

Series Summary: Ylva Ragnardottir is used to getting what she wants. As the only daughter of the great Ragnar Lothbrok and the famous Princess Aslaug she wants to marry Haakon, the bastard son of King Harald Finehair but Ubbe, forced into a position that should be their missing father's, will not allow it.

Ylva isn't the only one whose hand is being forced, Eir, daughter of the King of Sweden finds herself betrothed to a man she wishes to never see again, Ubbe Ragnarsson.

Chapter Summary: Ubbe recognizes the rising tension of the warriors gathered and Aslaug suggests a tournament to distract them while they wait to leave for the Mediterranean. Hvitserk seeks out Ylva when her absence is noted, hoping to make her feel better. Bjorn announces the terms of a tournament at the feast that evening, and almost everyone is in high spirits.

Setting: Kattegat, pre-season 4b, maybe by a month, before Bjorn leaves for the Mediterranean.

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: none, arguing between siblings, and some comfort too.

Ubbe sighed not for the thousandth time that day, observing the men in the yard below the Great Hall. The area is filled with warriors led by King Harald, the Jarl of Lade and King Anund of Sweden. The men loiter about uselessly, either drunk with boredom or fighting in drunkenness. The state of Kattegat is slowly unraveling before Ubbe’s eyes and while many of the older men had found work with the local farming families until the full thaw, the young boys, who were away from their homes for the first time, were the heart of the offenders.

“The men need something to do,” Aslaug's cool voice resonates into the rim of the cup she presses to her lips as she approaches her son. Ubbe grunts in agreement, leaning against the railing of the deck.

“They need a distraction,” Aslaug acknowledges, pulling the furs on her shoulders closer to her face. She acts uncaring, as if the chaos these warriors are creating are no concern of hers but Ubbe knows better, his mother has always hidden her emotions easily.

“What do you suggest?” He inquires, eyeing a man who is poking another in the chest, ale sloshing out of his cup and onto his boots.

Aslaug purses her lips at the ensuing fight that erupts, fist flying. “My father used to host a tournament every spring before the full thaw. A chance for the men to prove themselves before the real battle began.”

“A distraction.” Ubbe nods his head. “And the winner, what does he get?”

Aslaug shrugs her shoulders. Cold bitter winds are blowing harshly against her cheeks, and she turns to head back to the warmth of the long hall. “Something worth fighting for.”

====

Hvitserk hovers in the doorway of Ylva’s room, sweet cake crumbling in his fist as he watches his sister mourn the loss of something she never really had. There is still a pang of resentment that lives in the pit of his belly at her for calling him Ubbe’s dog. He had not let that go but he can not ignore the fact that she had not shown up for breakfast that morning or lunch and now it is getting late and the sun is setting and the Great Hall is filling with empty bellies, and Hvitserk cannot stand the thought of his sister so wrecked in heartache that she cannot even eat.

Hati’s golden eyes watch him from her spot curled next to Ylva’s side. The dog does not lift her head, instead she offers a soft whimper to invite him in. He flicks a chunk of cake Hati’s way and she inhales the treat in one lick. He finds a spot on the bed, near Ylva’s feet, the feather mattress sinks under his weight.

Ylva is curled into a tight ball, an old stuffed doll clutched to her chest in comfort and for a moment Hvitserk is 9 years old again and their father had not been seen for a month. That was the first time he had recognized Ylva as different from Ubbe. She was something “other”, as she cried endless tears to their mother. Ylva’s eyes had been so swollen and red she could hardly make out Hvitserk’s face as he tried to make her feel better with corny jokes and silly games that had no purpose.

He had helped her then, and he would try again today.

Slowly waking up from a long forced sleep, Ylva’s blue eyes meet his. She flings herself wholeheartedly toward him, arms wrapping around his neck. “Oh, Hvitserk, please, help me. Talk sense to him. I cannot marry Víkar.”

Hivtserk struggles to find the words to comfort her, pressing the sticky cake into her fingers hoping to distract her. She smiles at the gift, taking a large bite, crumbs fall in her lap that Hati happily scoops up.

“He says you want to marry Haakon Haraldsson,” Hvitserk muses, he can’t understand her reasoning anymore than Ubbe. Harald Finehair had never been a friend of their family. His son would be no different. He knew Haakon, had practiced swordplay in years past, he was a worthy opponent but a match for his sister - Hvitserk, thought it was unlikely.

“Why?” He asks, stroking Hati’s head. Why him of all people?

“I love him,” Ylva replies, nonplused. A smile tickles the corners of his face. He had expected a long drawn out explanation as to why Haakon was the man of her choosing.

He shakes his head at the bewilderment of women. He did not think he would ever understand them fully. “I will see what I can do,” he says, just so he can see his sister happy, even for a moment.

The squeal of excitement from Ylva startles Hati and causes Hvitserk to laugh in earnest.

“No promises,” he says, hopping to his feet. He holds out his hand expectantly. “Come, the festivities are starting in the Great Hall. Let’s go dance, like we used to.” He smiles cheekily at her, reminded of all the times they had danced together, stepping on each other's toes, both on purpose and by accident. “And I will talk to Ubbe later tonight.”

She beams happily at him, setting aside her old doll to latch onto his hand.

“I’d love to dance with you,” she says, hopping off the bed.

====

The grounds between the Sleeping Hall and the Great Feasting Hall are muddy. The warm spring air had melted away the ice on the roads leaving a thick slop that sucks at the soles of Ylva’s boots. She giggles as she almost loses her shoe to the mud. Clinging tightly to Hvitserk’s arm they pick their way through the well worn path. The grounds would all be ice again come nightfall, a whole new kind of adventure when they went back to their beds.

For now, Ylva keeps her focus on staying up right. She is determined not to ruin such a fine dress to a thick layer of muck. She has full faith in the laundress but there was no telling if the damage would be long lasting. Hvitserk had somehow managed to convince her to wear her dark navy dress and yellow overcoat. It was one of her nicest pieces of clothing and as she stood before him she worried she would stand out in the crowds too much.

“It’s too nice,” she had fretted as she smoothed down the fabric across her hips.

“It’s spring.” Hvitserk had waved a hand in dismissal as he snacked on a handful of nuts. “You should wear nice things.”

Ylva had frowned. Since when did her brother have any opinions on when she should and should not wear nice clothing?

“This better not be a trick,” she had hissed, eyes narrowing in his direction.

“No tricks,” he had said defensively, eyes impressively wide and innocent.

Ylva had smiled despite herself, ready to let go of the weight of her duty and fully enjoy the night. She could not let every comment that came out of her siblings mouths’ discourage her. Hvitserk had always been her closest confidant. She could, at the very least, trust him.

====

The hall is overflowing with warriors, local women who smile sweetly in their direction, and the thralls who scurry back and forth trying to keep cups and trenchers full. Kings and jarls gather around high tables or in dark corners, shooting each other conspiratorial glances, talking in hushed tones. A few men, to the entertainment of others, wrestle in the middle of the hall. Haakon grips the base of his cup, watching as Ylva skirts out of their way at the last moment. Hvitserk holds her steady, smiling with her when she giggles, hiding her humor against his shoulder.

Haakon wants to go to her, greet her, take her into his arms and dance the night away but she will not appreciate that. Or rather, her brothers will not. Hvitserk might not mind, he thinks. More than once this year alone, after he had landed in Kattegat with his father and brother, Haakon had leveled his sword with Hvitserk in an attempt to pass the hours, sometimes Hvitserk would beat him but not always. It was on those days when he bested the lithe son of Ragnar Lothbrok that Hvitserk would force Haakon to delve on matters of forum. Hours later and too many cups of ale drowned they had shifted off the finer points of the sword and on to other matters, women.

Hvitserk had had his fair share of women, of all shapes and sizes. Hvitserk loved women. Surely he could see that Haakon’s love was no different. Except it was, because Haakon was in love with Hvitserk’s sister.

The pride of Kattegat.

The only daughter of the Great Ragnar Lothbrok.

The only daughter of Aslaug Sigurdsdottir, Ylva liked to remind him.

Either way, Haakon would not leave her after one bedding. If he had it his way he would never leave her side again.

Her hair is a bright mixture of brown, gold and red that glimmers against the chandelier’s candles overhead. Her hair would turn a soft blonde by summer’s end, her nose freckled by the sun. He wants to go to her, just to wrap his fingers around a curl of her hair, pulling it to its end and watching as it bounces back to life. She hated it when he did that but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He would trail the curves of her cheeks with his knuckles, tracing each section with care, searing her features into his memory so that when he inevitably had to leave he could close his eyes and conjure up her face.

He will go to her now, even if it is just his hands brushing the lines of her back as he passes by. He stands decidedly, only to be yanked back down to his seat. His brother, Eric, sliding in next to him, pulling Haakon back to reality and onto the hard edges of the wooden bench.

“They say she is to marry some prince of Sweden,” Eric says, eyes following Haakon’s longing gaze.

Haakon shakes his head in dismissal. He will not hear it. Ylva had promised she would speak to her family on their behalf.

“Nobility,” Eric mocks, the corners of his mouth turning in humor. His older brother had been taunting Haakon since Yul when their father had invited them both to sail to Kattegat in the spring and every year before that, since they were ten and twelve years old and had first stepped on to the shores of the famed town. Back then it had only been a large farming town, Ragnar only barely a king but Haakon still remembers it as it was, when he had fallen in love with Ylva before he knew what it meant to be in love.

Her springy curls bounced as she stomped in his direction, cat-like eyes narrowed. “Bestemor.”

Haakon had frowned, both scared and awed by this girl who carried herself like a queen but wore no crown. He shook his head when no words conjured in his mouth.

“Bestemor. Take me to her,” she demanded.

Grandmother. Haakon understood, nodding his head dumbly. She had wanted to speak with his famed grandmother who knew the language of runes and could predict one's future better than anyone in Norway. Ylva’s cold skinny fingers had slipped into his and silently he led her to the tents where his family slept.

Every day and until the day he returned to Kattegat at the age of thirteen he had spoken about Ylva, and when she stood, waiting on the dock, blonde curls flying in the breeze he knew she had thought of him too.

“She can’t marry the likes of you, bastard,” Eric sneers. Haakon ignores his brother. Bastards can be kings too, his mother had told him. You have to be good to be a king.

Eric isn’t good, though he will one day be king.

Haakon doesn’t want to be king. He had fought the last few years, by his father’s side, helping him gain new land and property. He had found, during that time, that it was not difficult to shed blood or instill fear, it was imploring loyalty that was all by impossible. He did not want to fight that battle the rest of his life.

“Should take her for myself,” Eric tries again for Haakon’s attention but still he does not receive it. Eric Bloodaxe may be a feared name, whispered along the coastline of Norway but his older brother would never dare provoke the sons of Ragnar, who had been whelped with swords in their hands, whose destinies were often spoken in wild tales.

“Like to see you try,” Haakon says bitterly. “She’ll swallow you whole.”

He opens his mouth to say more, how Eric does not even deserve to breathe the same air as her, much less look her in the eyes when a hush settles over the crowd, cooling Haakon’s temper slightly.

Bjorn Ironside has pulled every man and women's attention. The hall becomes quiet in his soothing, all eyes on him. Would he announce their departure?

“It is too early to sail out yet,” Bjorn begins. He is standing tall on the dais, his many siblings gathered near him, watching him with humor hidden in the depth of their eyes and the corners of their mouths, waiting, hoping, he will make a fool of himself. “The women are finishing up the last of our sails. They work tirelessly,” Bjorn’s booming voice travels evenly throughout the hall.

The men grumble in agreement, nodding their heads, and squeezing the hands and shoulders of their partners and mothers and friends.

“I have decided,” Bjorn smiles haughtily as he speaks, as if he is the king of Kattegat, slowly drinking in the crowd’s enchantment of him. “To keep the women entertained, we will have a tournament!” Bjorn bellows the last few words causing a storm of excitement.

“It shall be three parts,” Bjorn continues when silence follows the ruckus. “Axe throwing, wrestling, and a foot race. Whoever is the best at all three wins!”

Haakon recognizes his father’s raspy voice calling out from one corner of the room. “What does the winner get?”

Bjorn’s mouth gapes like a fish. He clearly hadn’t thought of a prize.

“Ylva!” A clear voice rings out, hidden from view.

“Her hand in marriage!” Another echoes.

Bjorn laughs quietly before directing a taunting grin toward Ubbe, who until that moment, had been watching his eldest brother in rapt amusement at the announcement. Ubbe scowls suddenly at the suggestion, then regards the dark liquid in his cup with acute interest, trying to hide the irritation that tickles the corner of his mouth. He gives one final shake of his head at the ridiculous notion, still refusing to meet Bjorn’s mocking gaze.

Bjorn laughs, waving a dismissing hand in Ubbe’s direction, he turns to the crowd for more suggestions.

“A chest full of gold!” Someone calls out.

“A ship!”

“King for a day!” This one is undoubtedly Harald. Haakon’s wide eyes shoot to his father in disbelief of his boldness, everyone knew of his lust for Kattegat’s throne.

“To be king for one day.” Harald doubles down in his statement.

Bjorn, amused by the idea, nods his head in agreement, he sees no threat in the idea of a faux crown. “Whoever wins the tournament will be crowned king of Kattegat for the day.”

A loud roar goes up through the crowd followed by a wild wave of excited conversations breaking out at the thought of being king for the day. Haakon watches with interest, half hearing Eric who jabbers to a friend that has sauntered over after the announcement.

Haakon’s gaze is unintentionally drawn back to Ylva, as if he has no control over his body. Her yellow overcoat is like a bright ray of sunshine and he is, as always, drawn to her.

She is poking Hvitserk in the chest with her finger, a slew of angry words hot on her tongue. Sigurd is nearby, laughing at her while simultaneously tugging at her shoulder trying to pull her off. She whips on her heels, snapping at her younger brother once before turning back to Hvitserk. Sigurd, annoyed, rolls his eyes, before walking away.

“You lied to me.” Haakon can hear Ylva in between the voices that float around him. Hvitserk’s mouth is tight at the accusation, eyes sharp on Ylva as he takes in her petite stature. He is a good head taller than her, even with his broad shoulders and long torso he seems to be no match for her anger. He says nothing in return, he does not even try to move her aside, he doesn't truly have to listen to her ranting.

Ubbe approaches, having already sensed their tension, ready to sow peace but Ylva will not hear him, instead she continues to poke Hvitserk in the chest. With a roll of his eyes, her not-so-little brother throws his hands in the air as he finally walks away even as she continues to yell at him. Ubbe's attempt to calm Ylva with a soft hand on her shoulder is ignored as she brushes him off, walking away from him as if she does not see him. She sees Bjorn as he approaches, a goofy grin lopsided on his face. She opens her mouth to let him know what is on her mind but before she can say a single word he has her thrown over his shoulder like a sack of flour, hooting and hollering when Ylva cries out to be put down.

Ivar is laughing from his chair, hands clapping in amusement as Hvitserk takes a seat next to him. Hvitserk and Ivar’s heads turn into one another, quietly sharing words that Haakon cannot make out. Eric’s snide laughter at Haakon’s back pulls his attention away from the interdependence he longs for, a sibling he can rely on. Instead he has been given one of the most feared pirates in all of Norway, Eric Bloodaxe.

Eric is a terror to those who cannot defend themselves and their father is no better, taking each unsuspecting kingdom within his reach until even Haakon is not trusted by extension.

Harald is grinning like a cat who has caught a mouse, his arms spread out wide as he approaches his sons, their uncle a dark shadow that follows. Haakon sees his future mirrored before him and he swallows the dread that fills his belly at the idea. He does not follow his own brother with unquestioning loyalty and that is the only thing that quells the nausea.

“King for a day,” Harald purrs as he sits across from them both. Eric’s friend has slipped away with one pointed look from Halfdan.

Haakon bows his head in greeting. Eric is only half interested in their father, scanning the room in distracted interest. He may be Harald’s heir but he has always been keen on making a name for himself outside of their father’s fame.

“I know my sons will make me proud,” Harald says, reaching across the table to jar Haakon’s shoulder in a warm delight at the prospect of winning. Halfdan, acutely aware of Eric's distraction, sits down next to his nephew, in a decided plop. Eric scowls at his uncle, turning to look at Harald with annoyance dripping off his dark features.

“We shall see,” Eric agrees with a dejected sniff of his nose. Halfdan rolls his eyes, smacking Eric against the side of his head.

“Listen to your father,” Halfdan all but growls, teeth bared as he tries to find Eric’s gaze, to make him submit like some shivering pup.

Eric is almost chomping at the bit at the insult, he turns his gaze first to his uncle, dark pools mirroring one another, before lazily turning toward his father.

“I will do what I can but those sons of Ragnar are apt to cheat -” Eric sneers, pointing in the direction of the men in question. Bjorn has set down Ylva, but she is still giving him an earful, much to her older brother’s amusement - “You cannot trust them.”

“You will be better,” Halfdan hisses through gritted teeth. He is not impressed with excuses, especially not from his own blood.

Harald is laughing, his eyes crinkling in humor but Haakon knows better. This is the laugh of a man who knows when he is being watched. A calculated chuckle. And Haakon has seen it before, attaching a healthy sense of fear to it.

“We will make you proud, father,” Haakon replies with a nod of his head, and forces a smile on his face.

+++

My Vikings Masterlist or WLM series masterlist

#vikings fanfiction #ubbe fanfiction #ubbe x ofc #hvitserk fanfiction #ragnarsson fanfic

11 notes · View notes

pjmparadise · 1 year

Text

Saw You in a Dream

PJM x Reader oneshot/drabble

──・──・・✿ ・・──・──

Pairing: Jimin x Reader ft Jungkook & Taehyung

Genre: fluff, angst, established relationships au, ex boyfriend!Jimin, idol!Jimin au, boyfriend!Jungkook, fiancé!Jungkook, friend!Taehyung, dream au, romance, Comet au, dream au, magic au

Audience: 18+ (minors DNI!)

Warnings: profanity, cursing, mentions of infidelity, emotional turmoil, crying, sad Jimin (so sorry!!), mentions of intercourse/intimacy, brief kissing, insecurities, mentions of anxiety, insinuations of jealousy and regret, mentions of death, mentions of marriage

Word count: 4.8k

Summary: You and Jimin have a history. He comes to you years later with the mention of a dream. Unsure if he’s still dreaming or in denial of the end, all he knows is it feels impossible to let you go.

“Because I’m so happy to see you and I don’t think I’ll ever forget you. I’m trying so hard to remember you like this.”

I saw you in a dream You had stayed the same You were beckoning me Said that I had changed Tried to keep my eyes closed I want you so bad Then I awoke and it was so sad

Song: ꒰ა♡໒꒱ to get with the sad vibes lol

°.♡➹.°

A/N: this is my first published piece on my blog and i know it’s a bit lengthy for it to be a drabble so i guess this can also be a one-shot, not sure. either way, i am glad you’re here and i am glad you’ve given my work a chance! it means the world. as for how this story came to be, it was recently that i revisited the movie Comet and was overwhelmed and inspired by the storyline and thus felt compelled to write my own version featuring Jimin. there are some timeline jumps in this story and i tried my best to make it easy to follow, so i italicized the flashbacks. i also avoided using any detailed descriptions for the reader so it can be more inclusive for my audience. lastly, i dont think badly of Jimin at all, this is simply a fictional story. i absolutely adore him. anyway!! please let me know your thoughts, it would be so so appreciated! i hope you enjoy! ·͜·

(moodboard was created by me with this story in mind)

──·──··✿ ··──·──

Six years after Jimin first met you, he finds himself standing outside your door; a clammy hand clutching a bouquet of wildflowers to his chest and mumbling to himself something you struggle to make out from where you stand, ear pressed against the door. “This is not a dream. This is not a dream,” Jimin assures himself, his voice hushed and trembling. It was his idea to visit you. Uncaring of the time that left a gaping hole between you two, he’d convinced himself to try again, prematurely deciding he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t. He tosses the bouquet to the floor, knocks three times, and with immediate regret, bends down to pick up the arrangement of Cosmos, Borage, and Snapdragons. His heart beats wildly in his chest, the silence striking a brief pang of fear in his being.

You thought you were better equipped but at the sound of his knuckles rapping a weak knock for the second time, you feel your heart jump into your throat. It’d been almost a full year since the last time you two spoke and although proving to be slightly burdensome at first, after many lonely nights of wallowing in regret, you found yourself returning to a lover of years past. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to understand how your heart races and beats inside your chest like a vicious creature that was called by the only being able to tame it.

Out in the hallway, Jimin is pacing and rubbing his forehead continuing his quiet anthem of denying this is some sort of dream. Grounding himself in a reality he’s deeply afraid of.

After another torturous moment subsides, you reach for the doorknob and pull back the door and he’s standing there in front of you; handsome, with dark and melancholy eyes, long hair falling in lazy wisps over his eyes, a nice suit, and the same black boots he wore even on days he swore he made little effort to appear well dressed. You can’t help it, you smile warmly at him, and through bright eyes that always smiled first, he returns the affection.

“Jimin, come in.”

He follows you in and absentmindedly sets down the bouquet on the couch as his eyes begin to take in your living room. His wandering eyes flutter from picture frame to picture frame, from curious knickknacks adorning your shelves to the books arranged by the stereo, then back to you. He saw it; the framed photo of you and Jungkook sharing a kiss in front of the Eiffel Tower. He doesn’t mention it, instead, he turns away sharply and faces your kitchen. Rubbing above his nose bridge the way he used to after watching sad French movies with you, denying the ending got to him as his eyes welled with tears in secrecy, he picks up the bouquet from the couch and offers it to you, a timid look invading his otherwise emotionless face.

“Your cabinets are green,” is the first thing he says to you. You meet his eyes and he swallows at the saliva in his throat; his bright eyes are sadder now, avoidant of your gaze and when you offer him tea, he shakes his head no and sits down on your couch and doesn’t say a word for what feels like an eternity.

“You wanted to see me?”

He nods. His right leg shakes and he’s sniffing, his eyes fixed on the coffee table in front of him. “Is that….?” He signals at a framed photo of Jungkook where he’s pointing at a neon sign from a bar in the states.

You nod in confirmation, offering him a tight-lipped smile.

“Ah,” is all Jimin says for a moment. Then: “I wasn’t picturing him to look like that. I hoped he’d at least be ugly, sorry.” You laugh at his honesty and he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, sucking at his teeth, and avoiding your eyes as he continues. “I wanted to tell you that I had a dream last night. About us. About the time we were together, except it wasn’t really a dream. It was like my life was flashing before my eyes and I was seeing everything I’ve lived all over again.”

You stand in front of him, quietly eyeing him. “I thought you didn’t have dreams,” you comment, smiling at him.

He looks up at you with a grave expression. “I don’t. That’s why this got to me. And it wasn’t even like a dream, it was as if I was dying, everything moved on so quickly and I got to watch us fall in and out of love over the years. I saw us, on the first day we met; then I saw us again in Seoul the evening we argued on the rooftop before the wedding” His voice is unsteady and he clears his throat. “I saw us in my dream, in Itaewon, remember?”

You nod, succumbing to the memory he’s referring to.

✧༚

It was January. You and Jimin had been separated for almost two years at the time and you were in Itaewon after your mother stopped in the city to grab a meal before resuming the trip back home. Inpatient and driven by the boredom of the company of a mother you couldn’t converse with for long, you’d decided you would find someplace to unwind in the meantime. It was beginning to grow dark out as you made your way through the deserted street when a door swung open and a voice yelled out your name. It was Jimin. He’d seen you walk past the window of the pub he sat in with your mutual friend, Taehyung, eating stew kimchi jjigae and going over the week’s work schedule. Without your knowing, he’d begged Taehyung to lend him his jacket to hide the kimchi stain on his t-shirt moments before he bolted to the front door to call you. He offered to be Taehyung’s genie in return for the favor and he paid no mind to the way his friend asked him to leave you be. You turn at the sound of his voice, in this memory, and you can almost feel the way your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of him waving at you from a distance.

You grin at him, letting him know you remember.

“I also dreamt of the last time we spoke. On the phone.” His voice is quieter now and you walk away from him, remembering that last conversation, your smile dissipating. “You really hurt me. I should’ve said I loved you more. I know that now but even after all this time, I think of that phone call and it hurts. Even if it was my fault.”

✧༚

The day of Jimin's birthday landed on Friday that year. You were driving back home when he called you, interrupting Amy Winehouse’s ‘You Know I’m No Good.’ You bit back tears and fought the urge of allowing the call to ring and go to voicemail. How could you tell him that you’d met someone else? That you might like this person, despite being with him for two years. You met Jungkook a few months ago at an art exhibit in Busan. Both your companies were collaborating on a project and they’d sent you to meet the group of collaborators in charge of setting up the function but due to a stomach bug that swept your office, you were the only person available for the trip. He was your age, with dark round eyes, and a smile so wide you thought you’d fall in the moment he extended out a tattooed hand to greet you. He was wearing a mossy green shirt he left unbuttoned near his chest with dark pants and boots that generously made him taller than you. Later on, you would find yourself remembering the way your attention was drawn to his masculine beauty and the way he shared what he felt at any given moment. Jungkook was different; he didn’t hide his tears, have an air of indifference, or suppress his feelings of love for you out of the sake of damaging his image; you couldn’t tell Jimin this now, not today. But he knew right away. Something was astray. What was it, he asked over and over. “Nothing, Jimin. I was listening to Amy Winehouse, and it just got to the good part and I wasn’t expecting a call,” is all you offered. “Bullshit!” he shouted in turn. “Bullshit! You’re hiding something! What is it?” His voice boomed through your car’s speakers, filling you with dread. “Jimin let's not do this right now, please.” “Why? What happened? Something is wrong, tell me,” he demanded, his voice cracking through the phone. You sat in silence, parking outside of your shared apartment. You caught a glimpse of your cat Ein fast asleep by the window, and you began to weep. “You’re not saying anything. Fuck, it’s bad isn’t it?” You don’t respond, now crying into your hands. His voice is higher now, altered and coaxed with his inevitable suffering when he says: “It's bad. This feels bad. Infidelity bad—it is, isn’t it?”

You look at him now, your hands trembling beside you. He stands up and makes his way to you, snapping you out of the bitter memory.

“I should’ve told you I loved you more,” he says softly. His dark eyes bore into yours and it takes everything in you not to cry in front of him.

“Do you regret meeting me?” You ask him. Afraid of the answer.

“No,” he responds, almost breathless. “I’ll never regret meeting you. You were easily the best thing to ever happen to me.” You can feel your face distort as you stifle a sob. “Easily.”

He takes notice of the way you wipe the corners of your eyes and he clears his throat, shifting the attention from his sudden emotional outburst. “So, Jungkook, is it? That's his name, right?” You nod solemnly. “I just wouldn’t have pictured this, it still hurts.”

“I know,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, you begin to chew the inside of your lip.

“And you, do you wish you’d never met me?”

“I’m glad I met you, Jimin. I am so thankful to you. I know we were young when first met and even when we considered ourselves more experienced the second time, we still didn’t know what we were doing. I needed to meet you. I don’t regret it.”

“Does he know I’m here?” He raises an eyebrow at you, almost amused. You scoff without intending to and rub your forehead, avoiding his questioning eyes. “He didn’t want me here,” he states, his jaw growing slack. He can’t help but smirk at this. “You argued to see me.”

“You sounded worried or something in the voicemail you left me, I don’t know. We didn’t fight but no, he didn’t want you here.”

“Can I?” Jimin stands and saunters over to a framed photo of Jungkook holding up Ein, baring a wide-toothed smile at you behind the camera. He holds the photo in one hand, looking it over, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “And he makes you happy?”

“He does.”

“I wish he wasn’t everywhere I looked, he’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life, there are so many pictures of him.” You’re standing beside him now, admiring the smiling man in the photo, and you feel your lips turn into a frown. There is something so gut-wrenching about looking into the eyes of the man you love while it’s Jimin that holds him out in front of him, reflecting the gloomy air that hangs between the two of you. “I thought I had more time, you know? And this dream feels like a curse. Now I can’t seem to forget anything I lived with you. Life doesn’t even feel real anymore.” He gently sets down the photo, turning to face you, sighing deeply. “I dreamt I was here. Where I am right now, talking to you like this.”

✧༚

You cried in your car, listening to Jimin curse through the phone. “Who is it? Is it that guy...? The one that worked with you in the states, the one you met at the exhibition? Fuck…I can’t remember his name. Jeon Something… is it him?” You mumbled out a stifled “Yes,” earning an agonized groan through the phone. It was quiet for a moment before his exasperated voice resumed on the other line. “Fuck, I knew it. I knew it. You felt so different these past couple of weeks and when you left you kept avoiding me. I knew it. Fuck, I knew it.” His voice was shaky and you considered hanging up, overcome with a sudden urge to run out of your car and fall to your knees on the pavement, prepared to surrender to the sorrowful remorse that shook you. “Jimin, I think I should go.” “Did you fuck him?” The accusation stinging, you stared morosely ahead at the front door of your home, your mouth gaping in silence. “Did you fuck him?” He reiterated. “No, Jimin. It was never physical, I never…” “What was it then?” He interjected, his voice accusatory and perplexed. Jimin was in Busan, visiting his father, sitting outside his coffee shop, as it began to rain. “Just through texts,” you admitted. Jimin groaned at this and you weren’t present but you could picture the way he sat doubled over, crouching and hiding his face in his arms. The rain greeted him without mercy and in moments he was drenched. Unmoving, he pressed you to continue. “Just texts? How long has this been going on?” There was a momentary fraught silence as you mustered the courage to continue this detrimental unraveling of your wrongdoings. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously awaiting a response he dreaded. It would wound him, whatever you said it would bare no difference to the antagonized feeling that had begun to swallow him whole. “Since I got back.” “Fuck,” is all he said. He was rubbing his forehead, forcing himself not to cry. He stood under the relentless rain, masking the tears that clouded his vision, an uncanny feeling of loss coursing his being. “A month.” He repeated. “Jimin, not today, I didn’t want this day to go this way-“ “-the song you were listening to,” he retorts, cutting you off. “That Amy Winehouse song. It was a commentary on our relationship. You’re checked out, aren’t you?”

You’re standing across from him now. He has an air of despair about him that makes your heart falter at the sight of him. “You’re different,” you say, breaking the silence. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and he nods slowly, silently agreeing.

Jimin’s stomach feels emptied and his limbs feel foreign; he fears that a miscalculated step will send him tumbling. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the sensation of having lost all control of his movements. He meets your eyes and takes notice of the way your lips quiver willing you not to cry. He blinks away tears and rubs his nose, sniffing. “You’re different too,” he remarks, cracking a shy smile. “Still so beautiful, though.”

You blink at him, your fidgeting hands restless in your lap at his compliment. “You really dreamt this? Being here with me like this?” Your voice comes out quieter than you’d intended and he nods at you, a desperate look in the darkness of his tearful eyes silently begging you to believe him. “What happened in this part of your dream?”

He sighs deeply and looks down at his trembling hands. “I don’t know. I kept traveling back and forth between the beginning and the end, I don’t really know how it ends. I’m not even sure I’m not still dreaming.” He swallows hard, not wanting to break away from your stare. “I love you and I know now where we began to fall apart and I tried so hard to fall back asleep and go into that dream and fix it but I couldn’t.” His voice is low, shaky and he starts to rub above his nose bridge again when your gaze falls to the ground at him saying this. “Don’t marry him,” he drawls suddenly.

“Why are you doing this, Jimin?”

He’s standing close to you now, you can feel it. He’s standing so close you can smell his cologne; the smell reeling you back into a space and time where you loved him.

“You have an air about you I can’t explain, it’s so different, and you don’t have a ring on your finger but I’ve seen you fidgeting with your ring finger this whole time; you knew I was coming and you didn’t want me to see it, and I can see you’ve been listening to Amy Winehouse again. You’re not happy. Don’t marry him.” His voice doesn’t waver, carrying the same certainty his words always possessed. Like a tree that cannot be moved, he was always so sure of himself.

You look down at your left hand, ringless and strange looking now that it's brought to your attention. A hand that almost resembles a stranger's hand, reminding you of the time you asked him why he refused to marry you. You frown at him, completely unaware of how often you grazed your ringless finger, you feel your face hot with indignation.

You’re still. With your breath hitching in your throat, fat tears welling up in your eyes, and blurring your vision, you turn to face him and almost collapse into yourself when you see the innocent hope in his dark eyes. He’s sure of what you’re going to say, you can tell by the way he’s inching closer and is bouncing on the heels of his feet, eager for you to reciprocate. Jimin feels the warmness pooling in his face, his body beginning to tingle with anticipation and worry.

“I love him,” you say, watching his face distort and overcome with grief. “I’ve been tired because we’ve just moved in here. I am different, Jimin. I’m happier. And I’m not wearing my ring because it’s getting resized and I really just like Amy Winehouse,” you carefully explain. Like setting down a wounded bird, not wanting to further the injury or inflict new ones.

He takes a step back from you and a tear rolls down his cheek. His lips tremble and he rubs in between his forehead, turning away from you once more, to cry facing the cruel evidence of his delayed consciousness. Then Jimin realizes, without saying so, that you were the only person who had penetrated his being and willed him to pursue his musical career as he began to give in to defeat despite being neglected in sacrifice, and for the first time in the years you’d known him, he began to cry in front of you. In an instant, he discovered a newfound sense of woe that jolted him to sit down and sob into his trembling hands. Inconsolable with his newfound heartache, he realizes he might be too late. It’s beginning to feel like a nightmare he can’t pull himself out of. And perhaps he deserves it, perhaps it’s been written in the stars to end this way the same way it’d been written he’d see you and feel inexplicably drawn to you all those years ago.

You leave him to lament and decide to fill a vase for the bouquet that wilts in the melancholy air. Your legs lead you blindly, your mind a puddle of recollections and unnerving feelings you’re unsure how to process.

✧༚

The evening in Seoul two years ago resurfaces as you fill the vase with water. Your glassy gaze is out of focus, vividly recalling how the chilly air stung your cheeks on the rooftop. “I don’t understand why you can’t just say you have someone when they ask. You don’t have to say my name, Jimin. I just want to feel like I exist, not only when we’re behind closed doors. I am so tired of hiding,” you sighed. “You know why, baby. You know it’s not as easy as we both want it to be.” “I know, I know,” you mumbled walking past him and clipping up your hair. “So, then are you almost ready for the wedding?” “No, I can’t find my earrings. But don’t change the subject, it makes me feel so bad about myself when you act like that.” “Like what?” He side-eyed you, bracing himself for a short-tempered response. “Like you don’t care. I don’t know why you say you love me and you constantly act like the things I say don’t matter and you just change the topic. It’s so annoying,” you snapped, storming in the opposite direction. “I do care!” He called out as you faced away from him. “Hey! Come back. I said I do care, c’mon. I just don’t want to be late for the wedding, can we please talk about this later?” “Are we ever getting married?” You wondered out loud. Distracted and monotone without meaning to be, he fingered the ring he had in his pocket as he replied: “Of course, we will. I love you.” His pensive stare fixed on the distant mountains ahead, he went over his speech internally, deciding tonight would be the night he’d finally propose after years of denying you the satisfaction of publicly being linked to him as anything. But at the sound of his voice, hurt and full of resentment at being hidden from the world for so long, you spat: “Does it not bother you that I am not happy?”

Jimin watches you from where he’s seated, solemn and silent. Devastated by your response, and unable to find the right words to say, his restless leg bouncing beneath his cupped hands, he gives up his efforts of saying anything. He thought he was capable of uncovering your truth and walking away unscathed after the time you’ve spent apart, yet he remains paralyzed with agony and a slow thudding in his chest he can feel up to his ears. A nagging part of his being refusing to accept the definite end urges him not to surrender just yet and his lips part to speak just as the vase slip from your grasp and shatters into hundreds of unrecognizable pieces.

Flustered, you grab a broom and begin to sweep up the mess. “It isn’t like you to cry,” you comment, looking over at him. He sucks his teeth, a habit he picked up when he didn’t know how to come up with a lie. A habit he’d never been able to shake. “You don’t have to say anything, Jimin. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve realized in getting older that it does nothing to suppress tears. I spent my whole life being told how to be a man, how to feel, and how I should look when I am at the lowest point of my life and the truth is, I like to cry. I held on to everything for so long I never knew where to put it.” He’s not crying anymore, but his nose is rubbed into a faint blush and his piercing dark eyes are rimmed red from crying. His eyebrows furrow, a hurt expression taking over him. “Don’t tell me you love him.”

“But I do,” you retort, dumping the shards of glass into the trash bin, looking straight at him. “You can’t just show up here, talking about dreams, and tell me you still love me and expect me to leave him for you, Jimin. It doesn’t work that way.”

He knits his eyebrows, his glassy eyes void of any strength they had, hurriedly blinking away at stray tears that betray him. “No, I know that. It’s just…” he moans, running a hand through his dark hair. “I can’t exist in this world without you. I used to talk about having time to settle, I know I was naive to think we had all the time when you were slipping from me. I don’t feel that way anymore. I walk around every day, just a shell of the person I was when I wasn’t drowning in this solitude and I can’t shake the feeling that you’re who I’m supposed to be with.” He feels immobile, shaken, and discarded but he clenches his jaw and wipes at his eyes hastily to appear stronger than he is. The truth is, he’s never felt so small.

“I’m happy I met you, Jimin. I am, but I am not who you’re meant to be with. We both know that. We’ve done it all before. It was perfect until it wasn't, and now I am with Jungkook and I’m happy. I’ve found what I was missing with you.” He winces at the latter.

Silently, he paces around the living room. His eyes look over the photographs of the two of you scattered about the place, like easter eggs full of remorse, broken promises, and deceit of years past. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to let you go,” he confesses, shooting you a pained look. He groans into his hands, a strangled sob escaping him. You hadn’t noticed, but you’re crying. “I’m glad you’re happy, I really am. Even if it’s not with me. I thought I had you the way you’ve always had me.”

You open your lips to protest and he interjects with: “Give me a moment, okay?”

You make your way closer to him, making him look up from his now crouched position. He’s crying silent tears, his gaze distant and unmoving.

“I keep thinking of that dream. If I could’ve just stayed there, this wouldn’t be happening.” He’s shaking his head, mumbling incoherent words to himself. Then out loud, a final confession: “I almost proposed to you.”

Your heart rings in between your ears and you can’t hide the trembling of your lips as you sit beside him, bringing your face into your palms. “Don’t tell me that, Jimin.”

“It’s true, the evening we argued on the rooftop when you asked why I didn’t tell the world about us, I had the ring with me but after our fight, I tossed it as far as I could when you went downstairs to greet your mother.” You frown, unsure of how to go on. Jimin’s body shakes with each sob that escapes him and he’s wishing he was wrong and that this is really still somehow a part of his dream of memories. For the first time since he walked in, he brings himself to really look at you, his stare unwavering and brimmed with sadness. He feels an irresistible urge to take your hand in his and kiss you one last time, now accepting his fate with totality.

“I don’t know how I’ll get on without you. I’m really sorry.” He hangs his head low, his voice serious and sincere. “I broke your heart and I never really deserved you but the truth is, I feel so stuck. I don’t know why it feels so impossible to let you go.”

“Why are you crying?” You ask him.

“Because I’m so happy to see you and I don’t think I’ll ever forget you. I’m trying so hard to remember you like this.” He lets out a dry laugh and offers you a sheepish grin. You smile weakly at him, wishing you could say something of comfort but not wanting to indulge in any of his false hope.

“How did your dream end? The part you left off on where we talk like this. How does that go?” You look at him through tearful eyes and he inches closer to you, his face now centimeters from yours. Your face is flushing and you can feel his breath, raising the hair on your arms.

“I didn’t finish it. I leaned in to kiss you and I woke up.”

“And how do you know you woke up?” Your eyes sting as they lock with his.

Neither of you has said anything and before you can, he mashes his lips against yours and you’re seeing it too.

✧༚

It was a cold evening in November when you first saw him. You were making your way through a crowd outside a concert, searching for your friend Taehyung who stood in line accompanied by a boy wearing a black hoodie, jeans, and a beanie. He was staring at you as if you were long lost friends, a familiar air that was so dreamy any person who came across him might understand what it feels like to fall into a dream while awake. In all of his life, he’d never felt so bewitched by another presence as you came into view. You were perfect. It was as if the Earth stood still and it was just the two of you. Your serious face brightened at the sight of your friend and you waved eagerly at the pair. His eyes smiled, then his lips pulled back into a wide grin and his first words to you were: “I think I’ve seen you before.”

#bts fluff #jimin imagine #jungkook imagine #park jimin moodboard #bts x reader #bts angst #bts oneshot #jimin drabble #jimin oneshot #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jungkook x you #taehyung mention #jimin fic #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #bts imagine

93 notes · View notes

norabrice1701 · 5 months

Text

Twist My Heart - Ch. 5

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

- A TG:M Twister AU -

Series Main List

Also on AO3

Ch. 5 Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW sexual content; language; idiots in love

Bradley tries to tell himself nothing changes. But really… everything changes.

Bradley slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, glancing across the parking lot through his aviators. The Dagger Labs team members scurried around, loading up the mobile lab equipment and getting ready to deploy across the state. Another promising weekend of supercell activity was forecasted and none of them wanted to miss a single moment.

The Dagger 1 SUV sat just ahead and Bradley strolled up to the passenger door, frowning as he found the door locked. Glancing around, he couldn’t immediately locate Jake with the key, but the vehicle has never been locked before.

“Not today, Rooster.” Javy’s voice sounded over his shoulder, and he turned with a confused look. The SUV key fob twirled on a keyring around Javy’s finger as he approached the vehicle.

Bradley cocked his head towards the door. “Come on, unlock it. Or we’ll fall behind.”

Javy shook his head. “You’re riding with Fanboy this time around - I’ve got the key and I choose my own wingman.”

Bradley’s brow pinched above his sunglasses. “That’s not what the sheet says.”

“Sheets can change.” Javy answered with a vague shrug. “Better get a move on if you don’t want to fall behind.”

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing that Bradley’s heard in his professional days. Like, seriously, he couldn’t even ride in the same car as Jake? He glanced around, searching for the man in question but he came up empty.

A horn honked across the parking lot. “Yo, Rooster!” Fanboy hollered eagerly. “Hop to, buddy! Those storms won’t wait.”

Javy stood his ground, arching a brow that dared Bradley to challenge him. But Bradley just stood there, too stunned to make a scene as his mouth went dry and a pang of shame stabbed him in the chest. Especially as he glimpsed Jake finally exiting the lab building, eyes shield behind sunglasses that betrayed nothing. If Jake saw anything about Bradley’s ultimate walk of shame over to Fanboy in Dagger 3, nothing about his expression changed as Javy unlocked Dagger 1 and they both disappeared into the SUV’s interior.

It had been an age since Bradley last rode with Fanboy, but he learned more about Star Trek than he ever cared to know.

The memory still stings. The petty rejection still constricts his chest. The obvious dismissal still rankles his nerves. But Jake proves to be the master of indifference and distance, and Bradley can’t even get close to him.

So, Bradley broods works. He hides sits behind his computer. He dwells thinks. And he fails tries to make progress on his tornadic behavior model. At least, the data starts to align and corroborate the theory behind it. He digs into all facets of the atmospheric model to confirm the code streams and inputs until his eyes turn dry and itchy. His stomach rumbles with hunger and maybe he should stop. Or maybe he should…

The squeak of office chair wheels jarred Bradley’s attention. He didn’t know how late it was but he vaguely remembered it was Sunday afternoon. Or at least… it used to be afternoon. He blinked up from his computer screen, stomach sinking to see Mav’s gentle smile as he rolled a chair up to Bradley’s desk. He dropped to sit, heavy concern lurking behind his casual expression. Bradley just resisted the urge to sigh, instead cocking his head with impatience.

The corner of Mav’s mouth lifted higher. “You know, you are so much like your dad in so many ways.”

“Yeah,” Bradley said, voice rough from recent disuse. “So you’ve told me before.”

“Except when you get like this.” Mav continued, eyes softening with memory. “See, Goose - he… if something bothered him or if I did something stupid that he didn’t like, he let me hear about it. Every time. One time, he even asked if I had the phone number for a truck driving school because he was so sure I’d get us fired from our first job before we started this place…” he trailed off for the space of a breath, shaking his head gently. “He never let problems fester, he never bottled them up - he faced them straight on. And your mom was the same way - she never had tolerance for sulky bullshit, either; so I have no idea where you get it from. So, come on,” he nudged Bradley’s foot with supportive encouragement. “What’s going on?”

Too many words crawled up Bradley’s throat to make sense of. How could he possibly confess his impossible love for a man who ignored and dismissed him at every turn? How could he possibly confess that he was the one who made said man ignore and dismiss him at every turn? It was completely a mess of Bradley’s own making, and the last thing he needed was any of Mav’s supposed advice on romance. Wetting his top lip, he shook his head. “It’s nothing serious,” he replied, hoping his tone sounded casual enough. “Just a funk, you know… trying to get this behavior model to work on top of the busy field work.”

“You’ve been balancing the development of this model and the field work for some time now without any issues, Brad.” Mav’s tender tone pierced him to the core as his childhood nickname echoed in his ears. “I don’t think that’s really it.” The chair creaked as Mav leaned back, casting a glance over at the adjacent, empty workstation. “Did Hangman do something? Or did you do something?”

Bradley’s eyes widened as he stiffened. “No… why? Did Javy say something?”

“Javy?” Mav’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline. “Is he involved in this, too? I mean, I’m hardly one to talk about a couple, but a throuple…? Not that there’s anything wrong-”

“Oh, fuck’s sake,” Bradley cut him off, cheeks burning. “There’s definitely no throuple, and certainly no couple.”

“But there could be.” Mav shrugged a shoulder. “Why not, right? There could be whatever you want - if you face it straight on and don’t let it fester.”

Bradley’s throat tightened. “That doesn’t… it won’t….” his gaze strayed to Jake’s desk without permission. “He doesn’t…”

“How do you know? Mav asked softly. “Have you asked him?”

Despite himself, Bradley slowly shook his head. “No… somehow, I don’t think he’d answer me.”

“You’d probably be surprised. And if he doesn’t answer you in the way that you want, well… that’s still an answer. It’s still something that could pull you out of the slump you’ve fallen into.”

“Yeah, sure - and into a different slump.”

“Then, let’s call it closure,” Mav said gently. “Otherwise, you sit around here thinking for too long, then one day, you’ll look up… and he’ll be gone.”

“That's what he wants,” Bradley heard himself say, ripping his gaze away from Jake’s desk. “He doesn’t want to be tied down.”

“Or maybe he’s just waiting for you to give him a reason.”

Bradley scoffed. “You can’t possibly know that.”

“No,” Mav agreed, eyes twinkling with sudden mischief. “But there’s only one way for you to find out.”

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as if to squash the memory. The words have nagged at him for the last week, and maybe there’s some wisdom there worth heeding… but it doesn’t matter if he can’t get Jake alone to talk.

After all, the hope of anything with Jake is a fool’s hope. Bradley’s known that from the first minute Jake waltzed into the lab with his dazzlingly brilliant smile, sun-kissed skin, and grass-green eyes gleaming with dangerous red flags. And still Bradley let the man get under his skin, burrow in his chest, and take root in his heart. Maybe he’s just more of a glutton for punishment than he wants to admit.

But so long as there’s storms in the sky and tornadoes to chase, then maybe that will be enough.

He turns back to his computer screen with a sigh, deciding to call it a night. His watch reads 11:01 PM, after all, and it shouldn’t be a problem to find a place for a drink on a Saturday night. It takes the software a few minutes to shut down and he gives his inbox a final once over before the hiss of the door’s hydraulic hinge catches his attention.

His stomach sinks to his feet as Jake pushes through the door, arms laden with a box of gear. He darts a cool glance over at Bradley but otherwise says nothing as he threads around the workstations towards his own. The longer Bradley watches him, the more his heart starts to race and a shiver of anticipation runs up his spine. Mav’s words echo in his head, but is this truly the right moment?

He doesn’t care if he’s staring as Jake drops the box to his desktop. “Did you just get back?” He asks softly.

“Obviously so.” Jake answers without looking over. “Flat tire outside Wakita, small town shop… you know how it goes.”

Bradley nods. “In that case, I’m surprised you’re back already.”

Jake shrugs a disinterested shoulder. “Got lucky this time, s’all.”

A beat of silence passes as Bradley’s tongue grows heavy. He debates the wisdom of his next words, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “Are you heading home? I was just about to leave and grab a drink, you know, if you… want…”

Jake turns to face him, pinning him in place with his sharp eyes. Something infinitely tired lurks in those green depths, as well as something that Bradley can’t place - but it’s something that makes him want to wrap Jake in his arms and never let go. Jake sighs sharply. “Look, Bradley…”

Bradley.

The word drops like lead in Bradley’s stomach as his heart stops, waiting on bated breath as Jake sighs again before continuing. “Look, you don’t owe me anything, okay? No apology, no explanation, no amends. I get it, alright?”

Bradley’s brow furrows, gaze pinching with confusion. “What? What… do you get?”

Jake huffs an incredulous breath. “You’re really going to make me fucking say it?” He shakes his head with a scoff. “You fucking turn me down, and then you expect me to fucking explain how you don’t want me?”

“What?” Bradley pushes to his feet, stunned. “For fuck’s sake, that’s not it at all.”

Jake crosses his arms defensively against his chest. “Well, you’ve been pretty clear about your intentions… or lack thereof. And if you’re wallowing in some gay self-identity experimentation crisis, then I want no-”

“Just shut up, Jake, please.” Bradley’s heart breaks as he watches Jake freeze. A flash of vulnerability sparks in those lovely green eyes, and Bradley’s legs move without his brain’s permission. The intoxicating, familiar notes of Jake’s day-worn cologne reach his nose, and Bradley abandons his brain altogether to trust his heart. “Jake…” he starts softly with a trembling breath. “I knew my preferences and who I was long before you walked through that door and stole my heart.” A hot flush burns his cheeks as the corner of his mouth lifts. “You’ve had it for years whether or not you wanted it… and that’s what I was never sure of.”

Jake stares back at him, blinking in quick succession and tiling his head as if his whole fundamental understanding of Bradley has shifted.

And maybe it has. Or maybe… Bradley hopes it has. His heart hammers against his rib cage as he works a swallow down his dry throat. “See, if I’d kissed you that morning… or any other morning,” Bradley continues, his voice thready as he drowns in Jake’s eyes. “Once would never be enough for me. But if once was enough for you… then, I don’t think I-”

His words die against the sudden press of Jake’s mouth. He’s caught off guard for only a millisecond before he returns the fierce kiss, leaving Jake no room to doubt the truth of his words. The warm, soft touch of Jake’s smooth lips shoots sparks down his spine and makes his heart soar. His mouth falls open, drawing a desperate breath and inhaling everything about Jake Seresin that clouds his senses. His head swims as they heave for breath together, overwhelmed by the powerful revelation of the moment.

“Just shut up, Bradley,” Jake rasps against his lips before tilting his head to nuzzle Bradley’s nose. “It’s taken you long enough to get here as it is.”

A stupid grin curls Bradley’s mouth as he raises a hand to cup Jake’s jaw, holding him close. “You weren’t exactly helping.”

“Wasn’t sure what you wanted.” Jake leans into his touch, sighing as Bradley’s thumb caresses his cheek. “Wanted you to get off that perch… but needed you to stop thinkin’ so much, first.”

Bradley guides Jake’s mouth back to his, pouring out long pent-up affection. The indulgent kiss moves slowly, with heart-wrenching tenderness as they bask in each other, in the shared recognition of their hearts’ desires. Heat sings in Bradley’s blood, stoked higher as their tongues brush and a moan pitches in Jake’s throat.

Bradley wraps an arm around Jake’s waist, drawing him in. “Can’t guarantee you won’t still have to help me with that,” Bradley breathes, brushing his mustache along Jake’s upper lip and delighting in his answering shiver. “God, I want to take you home,” he murmurs, sliding his hand from Jake’s jaw to the fine hairs on his neck. “Want you in my bed. Want to take you apart, want to learn everything about you.”

Jake pulls back, angling his head just enough to meet Bradley’s gaze. His skin holds an endearing flush, and his beautiful green eyes are blown to thin rings around hungry black pools. He searches Bradley’s eyes in return, and something softens on his face, tempering the desire in his eyes with the conviction of a decision made. “You know, Wheel of Fortune was Mom’s favorite show. Especially towards the end.” A visible swallow works the muscles of his throat. “But even before that, the local station played it everyday for an hour right about the time I got home from school. It was the only time Mom and I had together when my dad wasn’t… well, wasn’t making trouble of one kind or another.”

The gravity of the words stun him. Bradley’s heart sticks in his throat as his brain races to catch up. Every part of him believes it’s true - and no wonder Hangman is so good at Hangman if he’s watched so much of that show. But why hasn’t he just left Bradley guessing? Maybe it’s an olive branch. Or maybe it’s a sign of his genuine affection. Either way, Bradley can’t hold back a fond smile as he swipes his thumb in a tender line against the back of Jake’s neck. “And here I was hoping to guess it with at least a one-in-five record.” He replies, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to the tip of Jake’s nose. “Why are you telling me?”

Jake’s eyes glitter with his trademark cocky mischief. “I told you that I had every intention of winning, didn’t I?”

Bradley groans, channeling a stab of long-familiar frustration into his simmering arousal, and surging forward to claim Jake’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Jake grins triumphantly into the embrace, purring like the cat who got the cream as Bradley licks into his mouth and threads his fingers into soft, blonde locks. He gives a gentle tug, and the groan that rumbles in Jake’s chest sets him ablaze. He draws back as they gasp for breath, resting their foreheads together. “You’re going to send me to an early grave, aren’t you?”

The affectionate curl of Jake’s mouth fills his vision. “But what a way to go, darlin’.”

Bradley drifts awake, blinking against the bright glow of dawn. A lethargic satisfaction lingers in his muscles as he shifts an arm against the mattress to glance at his wristwatch.

9:56 AM

“If you yawn just once,” Jake teased, dragging his tongue down from Bradley’s navel. “Then, I will just put you to bed without putting you through the bed first.”

Bradley shook his head against the pillow, trailing a hand across Jake’s shoulder. “Hardly my fault that you’ve kept me up past my bedti-” The word died on a gasp as the heat of Jake’s mouth descended, enveloping the hard length of his cock as Jake’s fingers twisted deep inside of him. “Just don’t - oh, fuck - just don’t mistake gasping for yawning…”

Jake hummed before adding a third finger and Bradley’s back arched off the bed at the rush of pleasure as they brushed his white-hot nerve.

A drowsy, lovesick grin teases Bradley’s lips as he turns his head against the pillow, amused at the sight of his bedmate. Jake’s blonde hair sticks up and out in every direction as he sleeps, still curled in the bedsheet. The morning light catches in the broad, bronzed muscles of his shoulders and chest, and god… maybe it’s creepy, but Bradley can’t stop staring. Or smiling.

Because he did it. He finally took that leap, made that plunge… didn’t let it fester, as Mav had said. And already, he can already picture his godfather’s shit-eating grin when Bradley delivers the news that he and Jake have, in fact, sorted out their shit.

But not yet. In fact, Bradley intends to keep Jake all to himself for as long as possible. He shifts against the mattress, tucking closer to Jake and sneaks an arm behind the pillow. Angling his hand, his fingers skim through the mussed blonde hair and his heart relaxes as if relieved to confirm that Jake isn’t some figment of his imagination. Though, the pleasant ache between his legs is all the confirmation he needs of that.

As is his burgeoning erection as Jake groans and leans into the caress of his fingers. Those sharp green eyes open, undimmed by the late night or the fog of sleep, as he sees only Bradley. The quiet intimacy stretches between them, and maybe it should be awkward… but it’s the most comfortable Bradley has ever felt with a partner.

Jake blinks lazily. “You got a thing for my hair, Roo?”

The nickname warms Bradley’s heart. “Your sex-mussed bedhead is just too adorable, I’m afraid.”

“Pfft, adorable.” Jake scoffs, more amused than offended. “That’s not the word a grown man wants to hear.”

“Better get used to it.” Bradley trails his fingers down along Jake’s temple, teasing the blonde locks back and grazing the shell of Jake’s ear. A soft sigh passes Jake’s lips as a shiver works along his skin, and Bradley’s blood heats with tender affection. “Because you are adorable - hell, you’re practically purring.”

Despite their naked states of undress beneath the bedsheets and the intimacy shared last night, a spark of vulnerability ignites in Jake’s eyes. He regards Bradley for a long second, teasing his bottom lip in a moment of indecision. It reminds Bradley of the same look from the lab last night - just before Jake shared the story about his mom and his childhood. And perhaps… perhaps that’s the biggest sign of Jake’s affection - his trust.

“Well, you just…” Jake pauses and pinches his mouth shut as if he might regret his words before he eventually lets himself continue. “You look at me like I count for something, you know? And there just, uh… just hasn’t been a lot of that in my life.”

Bradley blinks as the gravity of Jake’s words sets in. He brings his other hand to cup Jake’s jaw as he shuffles to Jake’s pillow, pressing their foreheads together. “You count for everything, Jake Seresin. Don’t you ever doubt it.” He holds Jake close as if to physically transfer the idea to Jake’s mind. “And if anyone else has ever made you think differently, then I guess I have my work cut out for me, because you deserve -”

Jake’s mouth surges against his with firm conviction. And yes, this is better. So much better to show Jake just how loved, desired, valued, wanted he is. They breathe into each other’s mouths as tongues tease and leisurely explore. Maybe on anyone else Bradley would balk at morning breath, but he’s too far gone to care as Jake’s hand trails down the ridges of his spine. Bradley moans as those strong hands find his hips, urging him closer and tugging the bedsheet out of the way.

Bradley’s body settles atop Jake’s, slotting into place like the puzzle piece long absent from his life. Even after last night, he can’t get enough of Jake’s glorious skin and he wastes no time to lavish affection down the strong neck muscles, loving Jake’s reaction as the hairs of his mustache tickle sensitive skin. Jake’s hips roll up against his and their heated embrace grows as their cocks slide together. Delicious need pools at the base of Bradley’s spine and he wants to make Jake feel so good, so loved, so… everything.

Because that’s exactly what he means to Bradley. And the realization makes his heart sing as he slides his mouth back to Jake’s, drowning in another delirious kiss.

Jake’s hand slides down, squeezing Bradley’s backside as he moans into Bradley’s mouth. “Want you… inside me this time, yeah?” He pulls back just enough, searching Bradley’s face. “What’d you say, hmm?”

Bradley goes dizzy as the last of his blood rushes from his brain to his already straining cock. It’s overwhelming how much Jake is offering him, and god, Bradley needs to breathe. He works a swallow down his dry throat. “Jake, you… you have no idea how much I would love that.” His hips rock down without permission, stirring a whimper high in Jake’s throat. “But only if you’re sure… you don’t - don’t do it just for me, okay? I’ll wait for you -”

“Well, what if I don’t want to wait?” Jake interrupts, nipping his bottom lip teasingly. “I’ve only let one other person do it, and I knew he wasn’t the real deal… but you? If you’re not careful, Roo - you’re the endgame.”

Bradley finds one of Jake’s hands and pins it down to the mattress, interlocking their fingers. He meets Jake’s mouth in another breathless, messy kiss as they melt together. “Like I said,” Bradley breathes, squeezing Jake’s hand. “You count for everything - and if I have to tell you that everyday for the rest of your life for you to believe it, then I will.”

Another whimper pitches in Jake’s throat as his fingers grip Bradley tight. The distance between them only grows just enough for Bradley to reach out for the bedside table. He can’t keep his eyes off Jake’s face or stop kissing the moans from his lips as Bradley works slick fingers inside of Jake, slowly teasing, slowly stretching tight muscles. He can’t keep silent as he sinks into the heat of Jake’s body, loving everything about the man stretched out beneath him. He can’t keep from rocking his hips in deep thrusts until they both see stars and tumble into euphoric oblivion entangled together.

Sweat clings to his skin as he pants heavily against Jake’s neck. The blonde beneath him groans with languid satisfaction as his hands relinquish their tight grip on Bradley’s shoulders. Secretly, he hopes for a bruise mark or two, and a latent curl of heat flares up his spine despite his soft cock slipping from Jake’s body.

Jake turns, nuzzling Bradley’s cheek. “So… rest of my life, huh?”

A momentary thought of regret lances through Bradley, because okay - perhaps it’s a heavy thing to say after just one night, but the sentiment behind it couldn’t be more genuine. Despite the intimate press of their bodies, an embarrassed flush comes to Bradley’s cheeks. “Only if you want,” he says with a lovesick grin that he’s unable to hide. “You know… if you’ll have me.”

A stupefied look brightens Jake’s beautifully flushed face - like he can’t believe his ears - and his gorgeous eyes wrinkle with a grateful, loving smile. “You so sure about that…?” He sighs with drunken contentment as he holds Bradley in a tight hug. “I mean, I steal bed sheets.”

Bradley presses the tip of their noses together. “I don’t get that cold.”

“And I still like Wheel of Fortune.”

Bradley smiles fondly. “I’ll learn your secret strategies.”

Jake’s eyes glitter with unrestrained happiness as they narrow with that familiar cocky, teasing edge. “And I’m an unapologetic Cowboys fan.”

An affectionate, unguarded laugh barks from Bradley’s chest. “The Eagles are way so much better, but I forgive you.”

“Careful now,” Jake taunts. “Them’s fighting words.”

“S’that so?” Bradley pecks his lips for a quick kiss before pressing another to the corner of Jake’s mouth. “And just how many Super Bowls have the Cowboys won in the last 20 years?”

Jake surges up, lunging at him, and Bradley goes willingly against the bed as they roll over. Jake slides against him, holding each other close as their hips reconnect and their mouths tangle together. Bradley sighs with unrestrained happiness as he runs his fingers through Jake’s hair. "You got a funny way of fighting."

"Only you, Roo." Jake breathes, eyes bright and beautiful. "Just you."

Series Main List

Tag List: @redfurrycat

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangster #bradley bradshaw x jake seresin #hangman x rooster #top gun maverick #top gun maverick au #top gun fanfiction #twister au #twister 1996 #glen powell #miles teller

7 notes · View notes

legendsofmyriad · 5 months

Text

Legends of Myriad: Arc One - Chapter 22: Making Headway

Calloused palms outstretched, Azra influenced another fork of red magic into the writhing tempest. Crimson and ruby washed along the riled grey to lend comfort to the terrified souls inside. It’s all right, he soothed, detaching the remaining life force from the ashes. You can rest now.

He lost track of time and the number of spirits he helped on their way, but eventually, the shrieks and cries subsided. What had greeted him as a frenzied mass tempered beneath his power, departing the realm of the living with whispered gratitude and a final, relieved breath.

Boot soles crunched at the excess grit and sand on the patio behind him. Her presence ghosted up his nape to tickle at his cheeks. The alluring, sweet aroma of deadly Osimer blooms that followed in her wake captivated his senses, and stabilising his magic, he stole a quick glimpse. Delicate lilac flecks in her eyes shifted as she observed him.

“I brought you some water and something to eat,” Lilith said, carrying the covered plate and the filled bottle to the bench. “Professor Spark asked me to remind you not to overwork yourself.”

Azra pondered whether Bartholomew had requested she relay that message or if it was a ploy to disguise her own concern. Regardless, he grunted in acknowledgement and attempted to return to his work, but her proximity flustered him, the staggering emotions emanating from her provoking his concentration.

“The storm isn’t proving too difficult to fix,” he told her, low and distant, hoping to quell her uncertainty.

“I didn’t ask.”

“No, but I can feel it.” With a slight dip of his head, he inhaled deep and slow. “Or are you forgetting what my power permits me to see?”

Teeth gritted and fingers flexing, Lilith endeavoured to conceal her mounting agitation. “How could I forget,” she replied levelly, a biting undertone lacing her voice, “when that same power caused so much harm?”

Azra’s arms buckled under a rippling pang, but he managed to brace himself against the uncomfortable sensation. Within the depths of his wounded soul, he wanted to apologise, to mend the fractures between them and leave the war in the past. But the more he ruminated, the more he wondered whether it would be simpler if she held on to that animosity she harboured for him. Would it be fairer to let her get on with her life without him, never having to see his face and be haunted by the memories of the lives he plundered, the friendships and loved ones he callously ripped away? With him gone, she had the chance to start anew, free from the constant reminder of the heartache he had inflicted.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be staying long,” he assured her, continuing to hush the storm. “I’m going back to Solgarde as soon as this is done.”

“Rather presumptuous of you to think I’d worry,” Lilith shot before she could withhold the remark. Once it was out, there was no stopping the rest. “No, you’re perfectly capable of looking out for yourself. And only yourself. Altair keeps telling me you are remorseful, but you are just as cagey as ever. Or is that only with me?” Her chest rose and fell with her pounding breaths in a rhythmic dance of exertion as she expelled the discomfort from her body. “It doesn’t matter. At least I know once you have served your purpose, you will be leaving.”

Her words crashed into him like arrows, nesting in the devotion he housed for her and meshing into a spinous wreckage. Tainted and split, her own affection cracked even more. Little of the light remained.

That time is over, he reminded himself, imagining the faded imprint on her heart where her love had once flourished and bloomed year after year. His own flickered just as waning. Do not do this to yourself. Do not do this to her.

He bit the inside of his mouth until he almost tasted blood, fighting back the crushing desire to confess every shred of fondness he still nurtured for her. Footsteps fading, he allowed the solitude consume him.

It would be better this way. By isolating himself and his destructive gifts, he could decrease the likelihood of inflicting more pain. He would provide help wherever possible, but then he would vanish again. A ghost. A spectre.

Collapsing onto the bench, he cleared the residues of magic fizzling on his palms. With some reluctance, he decided to take a longer break than planned to allow the more persistent marks to melt before resuming his task. He knew he should have worn gloves, but he loathed the restraint of the taut fabric and clasps burrowing into his wrists.

He squirmed and manoeuvred until his back met the wall, and placed the plate that Lilith had brought him on his lap. A bowl of shrew berries, citrus pieces, and an assortment of oat clusters rested in the middle of the platter.

How many times had she silently delivered him food and water in the early hours, restless nights ravaged by work? How many yawns had she hidden to hold her warm body against his and ward off the unforgiving nighttime chill? Rarely had she instructed him to go to sleep or acknowledged the exhausted, bruised smudges under his eyes. Instead, she had loved him. Supported him in ways he didn’t deserve, and now… now all of that was lost.

He popped a cluster and a dripping section of yellow fruit into his mouth, wondering whether that was for the best. Let the past rest, he told himself. Let time seal the hurt. For you and for her.

Determined not to dwell on matters she couldn’t resolve, Lilith briskly made her way into the lab. Waves of heat from the working machinery engulfed her, washing away the stinging cold and soothing her bitter aches. She would have traded anything to be in the common room at The Citadel, cocooned in a fluffy blanket with a steaming hot tea in hand. Rain ricocheting off the windowpane until it was dampened by the insistent crackles beneath the engraved mantelpiece. Tiny gusts tunnelling down the chimney for attention and coaxing the flames. Peace. That was what she wanted. A quiet hush that melted her worries, a pocket of time where she was permitted to exist without expectations or obligation.

Yet she didn’t have the luxury of lingering in those comforting thoughts. The Core needed waking, Myriad teetered on a precipice, and the flickering fireplace and tempestuous nights would have to wait until the nine worlds were secure.

Clicking over tile and aged wood, she loosened the first few buttons on her jacket and fanned the heat from her face as the churning equipment became almost stifling.

“Ah, there you are!” Bartholomew said, excitement exuding from his features and his eyes shining with renewed enthusiasm. “Come, I have something to show you.”

Lilith followed him to the cluttered worktable, books and browning research papers haphazardly scattered and piled along the surface. Findings and ideas were already taking shape in the opened notepads resting on the corner of the wide desk.

“This may be a bit of a stretch, but I believe if it is conducted correctly, it has a high chance of success,” Professor Spark said as he shuffled the sheets and located the required textbook. “To wake The Core, we need to kick start the ecosystem.”

“Like plant trees and clear the atmosphere?” Lilith questioned.

“Not exactly.” He flipped the pages and tapped on a diagram that showcased the intricate connections between four distinct elements, arrows and cryptic symbols intertwining them. “A long time ago, The Core gave these blessings to four of the worlds of Myriad when they were in need. A magical bird was given to Delorem, pure temporal essence to Eternity, a unique water to Skuld, and a rare mineral to Prosperia. Nothing could taint them or mix with them, so they should still be in their original states.”

“Even the bird?”

“It does not breed as others of its kind do. Their numbers may dwindle, but they would never go extinct. Combined, these four elements have the ability to restore the land.”

As she contemplated the plan, she grazed her fingertips over the musty, crinkled maps, wandering around the stones and trinkets holding down their edges. It spread out to her like a promise, inviting her into a world of adventure and untold stories. And at that precise moment, vulnerable. The few things she had read about The Core since arriving at the lab were enough to indicate how severe the matter was. With little time to spare, they were racing to keep ahead of the ticking clock, and each passing hour amplified the threat of impending chaos.

“Two academy students are already in Eternity and Delorem, so I will contact them with the details,” Bartholomew explained. “While they are collecting the bird feather and the temporal essence, you and I can travel to Skuld and Prosperia.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me, professor,” she agreed.

“I shall call them now. Be prepared to leave once I return.” Lilith playfully saluted, her mischievous grin matching his own, and he bounded down the steps to the communication console.

“Off on another venture,” Altair commented quietly, relaxing against the low worktable. Despite the excitement in her aura, he noticed the wearied, thought-ridden pinch on the bridge of her nose. He didn’t need to question what occupied her mind. He knew the cause was outside fixing the storm as they spoke.

Without uttering a word, he brought her in for a supportive embrace. “It will be all right,” he promised. “You will grow around the wounds.”

“I thought keeping my distance would make it easier,” she admitted, “but it hasn’t. One second, I see him wanting to say something, and the next the icy wall descends, and it’s like we never knew each other at all. I haven’t exactly helped, I’m fully aware of that, but… I wish he would just say what he needs to.” She stepped back, inhaling the warm air to suppress the surge of emotions threatening to overflow.

“I shall talk to him while you are away,” Altair offered. “It would hardly be fair for me to speak my mind with you about the situation and not him. Who knows? Perhaps we can resolve this. Find a way for you both to be comfortable.”

“It would take a miracle, but if you’re up for the challenge, you may do as you wish,” Lilith said. “But right now, duty calls, and I had better not keep it waiting.”

Bartholomew adjusted the dial inch by inch, fine-tuning the frequency and flicking the switches beside it as he listened for a stable rhythm within the static hiss. Fluctuations in the communication lines disrupted the visual display, stubbornly persisting before an abrupt pop terminated the transmission for a fourth time. With a grumble, he planted his hands on his hips.

Stooping over the controls, he flipped through Oscar’s reports, skimming the vivid descriptions of various types of flora and occasional anecdotes about his travels. Weeks had passed since he last wrote, briefly describing an outskirt village he had come across and his eagerness to delve into his next research endeavour.

With a flick of his wrist, Professor Spark activated the holographic map, projecting a detailed model of the area Oscar had mentioned. “Swamp land,” he muttered to himself as he enhanced the image of the watery copse. “No atmospheric disturbances, no localised weather events, no magical traces.”

If Bartholomew hadn’t become accustomed to Lilith’s aura, he would not have realised she was standing right behind him until she spoke, her footsteps so light she may as well have been a mouse. “Is there a problem?” she asked.

“I cannot reach Oscar,” he answered. “He is currently on Lucarian charting vegetation growth for me, but my attempts to communicate are being blocked.”

“By him?”

“No. There seems to be some sort of disruption to the connection.”

“Is he okay?” Lilith questioned sharply, mind alight and poised for action. “Did he mention anything unusual or voice any concerns before you lost contact?”

In a composed gesture, Bartholomew turned from the map and shook his head. “At this stage, there is no need to panic. Since the gateways are still re-establishing themselves, signals can waver and take a while to settle. We should be able to talk to him soon.” She concealed her doubts behind a calm facade, but the slight crease by her eyes betrayed her apprehension. “Professor Bevan, perhaps you could monitor the Lucarian channels for me while Lilith and I are away?”

Altair hummed his agreement and huffed a memory-filled breath. “You wouldn’t believe the mishaps Citadel students can get into, yet they always manage to find their way back.”

“Not all of them,” Lilith said, two sets of bespectacled gazes resting on her.

Glimmers of remorse festered, and Altair lowered his chin. He supposed, when he dug through the thick layer of optimism he liked to approach situations with, that not every student returned. Some were left scarred, some wheeled home on clicker horses, tormented by what they had experienced. And some never made it. All those empty classroom chairs, all those spaces where they had once shone with energy and ambition. Curiosity had grown bored with them and abandoned them to wither. It wasn’t always glorious adventure they found, but a cruel reality that was not as merciful as fairy stories.

“I am certain that it is a signal issue,” Bartholomew assured them. “The tablet I gave him is active, and I have set up a memo for him. Once the link is back, he should receive it.”

“I will keep a close eye on the communications,” Altair promised. He glanced over to Lilith, offering her a reassuring look that smoothed away the furrow of worry.

Bartholomew patted the man’s shoulder in gratitude and made long-legged strides around the lab, gathering items from drawers and cabinets and stuffing them into his satchel. “All going to plan, our venture should not take up too much time. I know where to locate the mineral in Prosperia, and the folk on Skuld used to be rather friendly, so if that is still the case, I cannot see us encountering any problems in attaining the water.”

“Until logistics find a way of intervening,” Lilith pointed out. “Never assume something will run smoothly just because you expect it to. Theory and practice are two different beasts.”

“Spoken like a true warrior,” Bartholomew noted. “In any case, we should get going. I shall prepare the gateway.”

Lilith’s unblinking scrutiny dawdled on him until he was out of earshot, and she redirected her focus to Altair. “Contact me as soon as you receive any news from Oscar,” she said, “because if we do not hear from him by the time I return, I’ll find a way to Lucarian and bring him home myself. I refuse to let anybody make a habit of putting our students in danger, I don’t care who they think they are or what power they possess.”

“Of course, Commander Cleaver,” the professor of magic replied, sensing the combative instinct within her taking over. “You will be the first to know. And if we are dealing with a tricky situation, I have ways of getting a message to Sunbreak agents.” She offered him a grateful nod, and he reciprocated the expression, wordlessly expressing his support of her judgement; the pupils of the Citadel had endured enough, and despite Bartholomew’s intentions and his budding friendship, Altair would not allow innocents to be cast into the flames in order to test the severity of the inferno.

#legends of myriad #legendsofmyriad #fantasy #fantasy writing #story series #writblr #writeblr #creative writing #fantasy story #writing #fantasy series #original fiction #original fic #original writing

3 notes · View notes

fallenautumm · 1 year

Note

Um, I have a thought I rarely see in reader-inserts. In a lot of Soldier 76/reader stories, he and Gabriel are exes and hate each other and etc. But I like the idea of a story where post-fall of Overwatch, Reaper and 76 have made up and are friends again, but have put any romantic stuff behind them. They're still really good friends and supportive of each other (and Gabriel vaguely threatens people not to be mean to Jack). Suffice to say, my request is that Jack met Reader a few months ago, and Jack clearly has a huge crush on Reader, and Gabriel pushes him into actually approaching his crush. (If gender ever comes up, I'd want Reader to be male because Jack is gay)

( hope you enjoy this -

Your Love, is not enough

Reaper had always been a bit of a lone wolf. As a former member of the notorious Blackwatch division, he had spent most of his life in the shadows, working in secret for Talon

But when Overwatch was reinstated, Reaper found himself finding a certain interest in the Agency. Among them was Soldier 76, a grizzled veteran who had once been his closest ally.

In the early days of Overwatch, Reaper and Soldier 76 had been more than friends. They had shared a passionate romance, but it had ended in heartbreak when Reaper's true nature was revealed.

Despite their tumultuous history, Reaper and Soldier 76 had managed to salvage their friendship, working together on countless missions and becoming each other's confidants. And good Friends again

But when Soldier 76 confided in Reaper that he had developed a crush on a man named Y/N, Reaper felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. He had always cared for Soldier 76 more than he had let on, and the thought of someone else stealing his heart was almost unbearable.

Reaper tried to push his feelings aside, telling himself that Soldier 76 deserved to be happy, no matter who he was with. But as the days went on, his jealousy only grew stronger.

One night, Reaper couldn't take it anymore. He called Soldier 76 over to himself and poured his heart out, confessing his feelings and begging for another chance.

But Soldier 76 gently turned him down, explaining that he had moved on and had feelings for someone else. Reaper was devastated, but he knew that he had to respect Soldier 76's wishes.

Determined to prove his loyalty to his friend, Reaper decided to try to get Y/N and Soldier 76 together. He set up a casual get-together, inviting both of them over for dinner and drinks.

At first, things were a bit awkward between Soldier 76 and Y/N. But Reaper did his best to facilitate conversation, telling funny stories and making everyone feel at ease.

As the night went on, Soldier 76 and Y/N began to open up to each other, finding common interests and shared experiences. Reaper watched from the sidelines, feeling a mix of happiness and sadness.

When the night came to a close, Soldier 76 and Y/N finally exchanged numbers and made plans for a second date. Reaper felt a pang of jealousy, but he knew that he had done the right thing. He wanted Soldier 76 to be happy, even if it wasn't with him.

Over the next few weeks, Soldier 76 and Y/N relationship blossomed into something beautiful. They went on romantic dates, held hands in public, and even shared a kiss in front of Reaper.

Reaper tried to be happy for them, but his jealousy continued to eat away at him. He found himself drinking more than usual, staying out late, and neglecting his duties.

He thought about how gentle and nice, he used to be towards him. The way his kisses used to leave him breathless ,and the amount of Happyness he felt when they would hug. And Y/N, is experiencing all of these scenarios. And maybe.. they were doing even more than just that..

One day, Soldier 76 approached him, worried about his well-being. Reaper broke down, confessing that he was struggling with feelings of jealousy and inadequacy.

Soldier 76 listened patiently, offering words of comfort and reassurance. He explained that he valued their friendship above all else, and that he didn't want Reaper to feel like he was being replaced. But deep down Reaper knew, it will never be okay again like it used to be.

#reaper #overwatch angst #soldier 76 #soldier x reader #overwatch oneshot #ow2

19 notes · View notes

cinnibun-krysanthemum · 3 years

Text

Ahhhhhhhh I am so in love!!!!

I am finally happy and okay for once and it keeps getting better!

I am going to work hard to achieve my dreams of cuddles and driving a car with my own CDs playing :3

#sorry to scream but i must let the world know!#i have not very ambitious dreams right now but that also means theyre realistic and acheiveable #a pang in my chest that proves my heart is still working #i love you 💙💜🖤💞✨#k<3

4 notes · View notes

frogtanii · 3 years

Text

warm.

it’s too warm, was your first waking thought as you sluggishly waded through the mound of blankets that encompassed you to get a breath of fresh air (you assumed bokuto and kuroo were the culprits for your warm and fuzzy hellhole). your eyes first fell on the television playing the credits to the second or third pirates of the caribbean movie on mute, the remote haphazardly thrown somewhere to your left as though the person who did so left in a hurry.

speaking of people, there was no one left in the room as you slowly joined the land of the living. a part of you suspected everyone had gone to bed but atsumu or akaashi would’ve woken you up if that had been the case.

belatedly, you recognized voices coming from the front door and your still sleep-addled brain lit up. oh! you thought. food must be here! untangling yourself from the blankets proved to be an exhausting feat because by the time you were done, your body was covered in a sheen of sweat underneath oikawa’s sweats and sakusa’s hoodie.

ugh, gross.

you began to make your way towards the door, the blood rushing through your head preventing you from hearing the details of conversation but knowing atsumu, he was just haggling for a lower price even though you told him repeatedly, that isn’t how pizza places work tsum.

as you drew nearer to the commotion, you started to pick up on the heavy tension in the air, leaving you extremely uncomfortable. you had no idea what the cause of it was but you did know it was making most of the boys upset, who, by the way, hadn’t noticed you creeping around just yet.

a feminine voice rang out from outside the doorway and though you were still attempting to gain your hearing, the sound sent chills down your spine. it sounded saccharine, sweet, familiar, and oh so evil.

even with a head full of cotton, you figured now wouldn’t be the best time to reveal yourself, what with the clear discomfort permeating the atmosphere, but your big fat mouth apparently had other plans.

“‘tsum, just let the poor pizza lady go,” you muttered, the beginnings of a headache making itself known at the back of your skull. you were a little too caught up with the dwarf banging at your head with a sledgehammer to notice the shock that everyone in the room turned to look at you with.

a gentle hand grasped at your forearm, whispering something into your ear before attempting to pull you back to the living room, but that same familiar voice from the door kept you planted where you stood.

“oh, the princess finally makes herself known,” meiko sneered, her face finally coming into focus, striking you with pang of fear straight through your heart. “funny, i thought i left you speechless the last time we... ‘talked’.”

“ya shut yer fuckin mouth,” atsumu lunged at her but was stopped by sakusa’s arm around his waist, successfully holding him in place. meiko just giggled, taking a step into the house, her heels clicking as she glided across the hardwood floors.

in the back of your head, you noted that meiko looked unusually beautiful, her makeup flawlessly done and her outfit complementing it perfectly, almost reminiscent of how she used to be before... well, just “before”.

you watched the boys unconsciously angle themselves as a protective wall around you, the person holding your arm (who you now realized was koushi) pulling you in tighter until your back was resting against his chest.

a part of you couldn’t help but feel a little suffocated but the other, more self preserving, bit felt irrationally safe and protected around these boys. it was nice... or it would’ve been if meiko wasn’t taking herself on a tour around the house as though she hadn’t been living there for almost the past year.

“you all can tone down on the guard dog act. i’m not here to fight,” she said as she pretended to wipe dust off the island. “you’re not?” bokuto’s skeptical voice rose up from behind you, one of his hands finding yours underneath the massive sleeves of your (sakusa’s) hoodie.

meiko shook her head with an empty smile, her perfectly painted red lips stretching unnaturally wide. “no, of course not! i’ve just come here to collect.”

the boys collectively tensed around you, akaashi whispering for kenma to go find yachi and quickly. as he slipped away, you made eye contact with sakusa who gave you an imperceptible nod that you assumed meant one thing — keep her talking.

“collect what?” you asked, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted, but you hoped she didn’t notice. she cocked her head as her eyes snapped to you as if she’d forgotten you were there, but judging by her growing smirk, you knew that wasn’t the case.

“my boys of course!” meiko clapped gleefully, clicking her way over toward kuroo to run her hand over his bicep, laughing when he jolted away from her touch. “they’ve always been mine, you know that don’t you?”

it felt like a cold bucket of water had been dropped over your head. you felt frozen again, the same feeling of dread creeping up your spine as it did when meiko attacked you. in turn, you barely noticed kenma’s return who whispered something to sakusa — an action that didn’t go unnoticed by meiko.

“what’re my boys talking about? are you plotting against me?” she pouted, scooting closer to the pair. kenma visibly paled and moved to hide himself behind sakusa’s broad shoulders. “we aren’t doing anything, meiko.”

wrong answer.

“oh, we both know that isn’t the case kiyoomi. i’m not a fucking idiot.” meiko’s voice filled with venom before moving even closer still. you felt your heart beating rapidly in your chest, your hand gripping bokuto’s even tighter.

what if she brought some kind of weapon to the house? what if she hurt you? what if she hurt them?

before you could think, you were standing in front of the group, the boys calling out your name as meiko’s face lit up. “so the precious little princess wants to take a stand! let me have it then, huh? let me see what all the craze is about!”

despite the fear thudding in your chest, you stood tall, glaring at her with your head held high. “the boys are not yours, meiko,” you declared, her mouth instantly opening in protest but you refused to let her speak.

“they aren’t possessions or objects you can own and treat like shit. they are people, real living, breathing people and they aren’t mine either. they have full reign to do what they want, when they want, to make their own choices and decisions. and you know what? they didn’t choose you or me. they chose themselves and their happiness over any bullshit you or i could try and sell them. so please, for the love of god, get your shit together, put it in a box and take it to fucking therapy.”

by the end of your impromptu speech, your chest was heaving but you felt good. really good. adrenaline was rushing through your veins and you felt powerful. out the corner of your eye, you noticed osamu and daichi standing at the bottom of the stairs with something akin to awe on their faces.

yeah bitches. take it all in.

unfortunately, while you were basking in the feeling of badassery, you completely missed meiko’s eyes lighting up with pure, unadulterated,

rage.

you faintly heard someone call your name before you were taken to the ground by meiko leaping at you like an animal. the two of you scrambled about on the hardwood, her hands yanking at your clothes and leaving scratches on your skin but you were sure as hell giving her a run for her money.

you finally managed to get on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground but that wasn’t before you gained a hard elbow to the side and a bruise to your face. meiko thrashed and shook in your hold but you were not wavering, trying to keep her entirely still for...

well, for what exactly?

almost as though they were on cue, you heard the sound of police sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder as they drew closer to the house. underneath you, meiko’s eyes widened before she began fighting even harder than she’d done before, her erratic movements making it much more difficult to keep your hold on her.

luckily, you had extremely muscular men at your disposal, one of which (osamu — even though he was a dick, he was still incredibly muscular dick) held down meiko’s arms as the lapd stormed the building.

the police officers easily retracted meiko from your arms and cuffed her, taking her to the back of the cop car, despite her loud and insistent threats on you and everyone you love.

very disney villain-esque.

a kind looking officer helped you to your feet and walked you out to the porch where he began to ask you and the boys a few questions. you answered them honestly and you were genuinely proud of how well you were handling the whole situation when—

“bubs, you’re shaking.” sure enough, when you looked down at your hands, you were twitching uncontrollably, the reality of the events that just occurred finally sinking in.

you were just attacked. again.

you and your friends were threatened.

meiko was sitting in the back of a fucking cop car.

“what the fuck,” you whispered, eyes staring unblinking at your palms. the same officer mentioned something about shock, prompting all the boys to gather around you; atsumu pulled you in between him and sakusa, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, kenma and bokuto took hold of your quivering hands, sugawara and oikawa sat off to the side watching you with blatant concern, and kuroo and akaashi spoke to the officer in hushed tones.

the man nodded and shook their hands before shooting you a pitying smile and heading back to the car where meiko was waiting.

“it’s over angel, ‘s over,” atsumu muttered into your hair, pressing kisses to your forehead in between each phrase. you leaned into his touch but you refused to take your eyes off meiko who was watching the whole scene from the backseat, her eyes wide with anger, hurt, and confusion.

you didn’t bother dwelling on it, instead focusing on evening out your breathing and looking at the car drive over the horizon. you heard yachi’s soft voice calling everyone inside, atsumu lifting you up to your feet and walking with you, never once taking his hands off of you.

still, his words echoed in your head, even as yachi spoke of the end of the hyper house, even as the boys brought you to your room, and even as they all automatically cuddled around you in an attempt to get you to sleep.

it’s over. it’s all finally over.

you couldn’t keep the grin off your face if you tried.

℗ poker face

it’s over

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - OK THE TITLE IS MISLEADING THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET SKENSM (there are 2 more official story chapters before all the endings :3) also m not the biggest fan of this chapter?? so i’d love to hear what y’all think <33 don’t forget to feed me!!

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp • @keiarma • @shrimpypenis

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

2K notes · View notes

glassbxttless · 2 years

Note

Hi it is I 🐰 I just watched This Is Where I Leave You and I need to request some things for my boy Phillip. Can I request something where the reader and Phillip have been casually dating for a while but she doesn't want to put labels on things bc she knows about his history of being a player? She expects him to be flakey but he's down so bad for her?

Phillip Altman x f!Reader

Word Count: 1,374

Warnings: reassurance, reader is apprehensive about relationships, relationship trauma, mentions of cheating

Notes: I know that you enjoyed the movie, but I hope you enjoy what I’ve written! Your recent Phillip oneshot, “How This Ends”, is definitely a bit of an inspiration (linked here X). I love you and hope I did this request justice!

There’s a quiet hum drifting through his apartment as you both lie in his bed, unmoving, unbothered by the moonlight threatening to spill between the spaces in the blinds. Phillip’s bare chest is pressed against your back, an arm slipped around your middle and holding you to his body tightly. These nights you spend together seemed like the natural next step in your relationship, but you know how Phillip is. This next step is just the beginning of the end. He’ll get tired of you eventually. Your eyes are open, staring at the wall in front of you. You’re counting Phillip’s breaths quietly, one, two, three, four…

You’ve fallen in love with him. Completely and utterly in love, although you’ve both left it unsaid— and you’re scared. You’re scared to call him your boyfriend. You’re scared that he’d call you his girlfriend. That means something. That means you’re attached to him, and anyone attached to one Phillip Altman gets their heart broken in two. For three months now, you’ve been forcing things to stay as casual as you can, and you still love him; five, six, seven…

His face presses closer to your neck, nose brushing against your shoulder. He breathes in slowly, heavily, pulls you back closer to him. There are so many things you’ve grown to love about him. His laugh, taste in music, the way he’s learned to work through most of his recent trauma. eight, nine… You’ve had your fair share of these relationships, the ones that start out perfect. The ones that he’s trying so hard to get you to fall for him. The ones where you’re so so close to giving your entire heart over to them on a silver platter and they crush it right in your hands. They make you think about your love life over and over, whether you could be potentially happy alone and never have to deal with this heart ache again. But here Phillip is, pressed up against your back trying to prove that he’s somehow different from the rest.

Ten. Phillip’s waking up now, his breathing is different. You can feel the gentle kiss he presses against your shoulder. “go to sleep.” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. He’s pulling you tighter, his calves brushing yours. “You've gotta work tomorrow.” you listen to his half asleep reminder, the one you wish you could shut your brain off to listen to. How many people has he done this with? How many partners has he said that to? Your heart starts beating faster, tears welling up and threatening to spill. Phillip’s eyes are open now, a soft breath coming from him as he pushes himself up on his other arm to look over at your face. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?” your voice cracks. You can’t stand it when he calls you that. Each time pulls you in a little more than you already had been. Each time makes you love him more and just wish that he felt the same.

“What’s going on? you’re crying.” he asks, stating the obvious. A tear does fall down your cheek, and Phillip feels a pang in his heart. “Oh, honey…”

“Stop calling me that.” Your voice has no real malice in it. Not with the way you’re crying. You don’t want to hurt anymore. You don’t want to waste anymore of each other’s time. “Just get it over with… tell me that we’re over and move on to the next one. It’s okay, I’m ready for it.” You don’t meet his eyes. That’ll just make it worse. That will ruin you more than the thoughts would. Especially if you would’ve seen the look of pain on his face.

“What are you talking about?” He asks softly. He reaches out to brush a tear off of your cheek. Phillip starts to think of what could have put you on this, his mind races. He hasn’t been talking to, sleeping with, or seeing anyone else and hasn’t since the moment he first spoke to you. You sealed the deal for him before you even knew his name. “Sweet-”

“Stop it, Phillip.” You snap this time. And Phillip really isn’t sure what’s going on when you’re rolling out of bed, pulling your pajama bottoms back on over your panties. “This… we have to stop this.” You start stammering, looking for words, looking for something to stop the way you’re feeling. “we have to stop this before you find someone else, someone better. I really can’t go through something like that with you. We stop this while we both still have good memories of one another. Okay?” You’re pulling a hoodie over the t-shirt of Phillip’s you had been sleeping in, searching for your keys.

He’s sitting up now, trying to get a grasp on the situation unfolding in front of him. And he’s climbing out of bed, stopping your movements with two strong hands on your arms. “Listen to me.” He says in a soft, but firm tone. “You aren’t leaving right now, it’s the middle of the night. You aren’t going to go through anything like that… Not with me.” His thumbs rub gentle circles on your arms and he smiles sleepily as you look up at him to meet his eyes. “I want you. Everything in my life has changed because of you. The things I want now, I would’ve never wanted until you. What’s it going to take to get you to see that, huh sweetheart?” he asks softly. He watches you shrug your shoulders just a little, which brings a smile to his face. “You hold my whole heart in your hands, babe. There isn’t a single other soul that can say that. You hold Phillip Altman’s heart right in your palms. It’s yours.”

“But-”

“I hope you’re referring to yours.” He smiles at his own lame joke and tilts your chin up just a bit, pulling you towards his body. “I’ve got it bad for you, baby girl. You’re everything I need, breathe, live on. I fucking love you.”

and there’s a silence that draws out between the two of you. He can’t believe he’s said it, he’s never said it in his adult relationships and meant it. But here he is, heart on his sleeve and just hoping he’ll hear it back. His thumb wipes a tear off your cheekbone as you sniffle back a few more. “You love me?”

“I do, and I can’t imagine ever loving anyone else.” His voice is quiet, whispering, but meaning every single word.

“I love you too.” you admit. “and I don’t want to be hurt again… I’m just… scared.” Your hands rest on his shoulders, eyes closing as you lean against him.

“I’m not here to hurt you, sweet pea.”

“You’ve cheated on other women before, Phillip.” you hate to think about it. Hate to imagine what that would do to your heart.

Phillip sighs heavily, “I’d never do that to you. I’ve made mistakes, some really shitty ones. But that’s my past and this is our present, our future.” His arms drop, wrapping around your waist as he holds you in the middle of his bedroom. “and I'll remind you of that everyday. This is our future that I’m changing to make better. I’m changing everyday, my love. Come back to bed? Stay home. Let me show you, my girlfriend, just how much I love you.”

and you fall into his bed again at the word girlfriend, curled up to his chest and listening to him tell stories. You’ve tried so hard to put off labels in your relationship. You didn’t want your heart broken. You didn’t want this to be anything serious at first. And now you’re eating your breakfast and lunch together, you’re eating breakfast and lunch with your boyfriend. He showers with you that evening and reminds you just how beautiful you are. Just how much he loves you. and he doesn’t fuck you, doesn’t make an attempt. But he does undress you, kiss every inch of bare skin— whispers exactly why you have him so fucking drunk on you that it hurts. and he’s so happy to do it. He’s so fucking happy to remind you how much he feels for you.

@sacklerscumrag @fizzywoohoo @candycanes19 @2000andwhat @mariesackler @wingsoftheangels @themuseic @clydesfavoritegirl @caillea @maybe-your-left @driversmutbucket @tashastrange89 @daughterofaries @cornmousequeen @mrs-kylo-ren @peachyproserpina @mrs-gucci @millenialcatlady @leatherboundbirate @jynzandtonic @paterson-blue @awkward-katiesaur @eagerforhoney @loganluckylover @hedgy-hog @simpin_mama @thepalaceofmelanie @emi11ie @theoncrayjoy

#glassbxttless #glassbxttless adcu #phillip altman x you #phillip altman x reader #phillip altman #tw: relationship trauma #tw: mentions cheating

105 notes · View notes

alluremin · 3 years

Text

catch 22

pairing: jeon jungkook | reader

genre: fwb to lovers , college!au | fluff, smut, light angst

warnings: explicit sex; oral (f receiving), fingering, penetration w/o protection, dirty talk, light dom x sub themes, candid sex talk, jimin is a player, jungkook is a frat boy

premise: you and your best friend had agreed: college was for a good time only, no serious relationships were necessary. who knew that a frat boy would be the one to shake up that notion?

word count: 7.2k

At this time of night, you know you should expect to see his eyes following every movement your body makes. It was like you two were magnets of opposite charges, always attracted to one another regardless of how much your substance of choice was affecting your decisions. It’s bound to happen, almost as if by fate.

It was a beautifully toxic connection you shared with him; a vicious cycle comprised of sex, weed, booze, and good music, never in any particular order.

When you glance to the corner of the room surrounded by a hazy cloud of euphoria, the boy in question pulls himself at attention, elbows on his knees, wavy hair falling in front of his eyes. They bore holes into your own as if to say I’m waiting for you to join me, sweetheart.

Who were you to say no to that?

You know the power you have over him and consequently, every movement you make is intentional; your pivot from the makeshift dance floor, the sway of your hips with every step, the way you push your hair over your shoulder, and the smirk you give him when his eye contact fails to break with your own. The mix of alcohol and marijuana in your body makes you feel like you’re moving in slow motion, in the best way possible.

You had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

No hesitation ran through your body as you sit in his lap and take the joint from his hands. “I was wondering when you’d come back from your stage, tiny dancer,” he teases.

“Oh please, Guk, don’t act like you weren’t enjoying the show,” you smirk at him, taking a drag from the stick in your hands. Next to the two of you, Yoongi scoffs at your banter and takes the joint from you.

Once your hands are free from the vice, it opens your fingers up to run your hands down the length of Jungkook’s torso.

“Oh, believe me, I was. That doesn’t mean I didn’t feel jealous when everybody else got to see the show too, though.” A fake pout takes over his features. One of his hands travels downward from its grip on your waist to settle on the hem of your emerald dress. “Is this new?” His stare is obvious at the space where your dress meets your thigh.

“Mhm, I picked it up a few days back. Like it?” The smirk is evident in your voice, not like you’re trying to hide it. The garment had accomplished its job: make your flavor of the month drool.

His gaze slowly leaves your smooth thigh and reaches your eyes, his hands still toying with the edge of the fabric. “I know what you’re doing tonight.”

You feign innocence, “Oh? What am I doing?”

“Seducing me... As if you need to.” He laughs at your fake pout, taking the hand that hadn’t snaked back around your waist to run softly along your lips. He leans in until your foreheads meet. “It’s working, by the way.”

You don’t answer, instead, you close the small gap between your lips.

“Jesus, you two, just go upstairs already,” Yoongi groans, pushing at your knees.

Jungkook giggles into the kiss, and for a second the little cloud of lust surrounding the two of you dissipates. A little pang hits your heart just then, as you break your kiss from the boy below you.

If you had met under different circumstances, maybe the feelings you had brewing in your chest for Jungkook would be less offensive. But you were just a hookup, a weekend bed partner. Nothing more, nothing less. You pushed them aside and stood before offering Jungkook your hands. He grabs them without hesitation, and suddenly the lust is restored.

You follow the familiar path you’ve found yourself traveling every weekend for months. The fraternity’s house was a maze, but you knew it like the back of your hand, and you couldn’t find it in you to feel shame about it. You drag the boy behind you without a single glance backward. You didn’t need to, knowing his eyes didn’t leave your ass the whole time giving you the boost of confidence you crave.

When you reach his bedroom at the end of the hallway, Jungkook wastes no time spinning your body and pressing you hard into the door. The impact of his lips against yours pulls a mewl from your throat, your body keening against his in desperation. He responds by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

By now, the two of you had a routine, and the way you moved was almost like a dance; his arms sliding under to lift you, his spin in route to his bed, your grip in the hair at the base of his skull.

His body follows yours downward when he drops you on his sheets, never breaking the connection of your lips. “You don’t waste time anymore, huh, Gukkie?”

He sucks his teeth at the nickname, and attacks your neck, drawing a moan from you.

“And you still act like you’re going to be in charge, but we both know that's not true, is it, princess?” You blush at his words.

Of course, he was in charge, but he has yet to realize that the brattier you act, the more you get exactly what you want. You wondered how many more drunken hookups it would take for him to catch onto your game.

His hands quickly reach down to pull his t-shirt over his head, and you never get tired of the view that meets you when he does. The small waist, bulky chest, defined abs, and tattoos covering the expanse of his left side - it should be illegal to look as sinful as he does hovering over you. Jungkook proved that God does have favorites.

You sit up on your knees quickly to pull your dress over your head and don’t miss the small gasp that leaves the man in front of you. Forgoing underwear this evening seemed like the right choice, and this moment proves that for you.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Jungkook’s hand traces down your subtle curves before pulling your kneeling form against his own. You don’t miss the way the cold metal of his belt feels on your lower stomach, the anticipation building in your body for what’s about to happen.

As his mouth moves toward yours, just before they meet, you whisper, “Is that a promise?”

That’s all it took for him to finally snap.

Before you know it, you’re on your back and his head is between your legs. With the drugs and alcohol flowing through your system, every movement his lips make against your inner thighs feels like fire. You’re just about to sit up and groan at his avoidance of your center when he wraps his lips around your clit like his life depends on it.

Your head flies back to hit the pillow beneath it and you swear the coil in your stomach already begins to twist. Jungkook had a lot of things he could brag about. The top three? His body, his voice, and his devilish tongue, in all of its glory.

His mouth continues its assault on your bud, one of his hands reaching underneath to insert two fingers into your aching center.

“Fuck, Guk,” you moan. He hums, sending a vibration through your core. You were embarrassingly close to cumming. It was like you were under his spell.

“I can feel you squeezing around my fingers,” his voice drips with honey. The low tone was enough to push you over the edge. You saw stars behind your eyes and euphoria washed over your entire body. “That’s my girl.”

You don’t miss the sweet comment in your bliss, choosing to not think about it too much so it doesn’t swallow you whole.

Jungkook crawls upward and crashes his lips onto yours as your hands expertly undo his belt and the buttons of his jeans. He leans back on his legs to assist you in ridding himself of the last pieces of clothing that separate the two of you, breaking the seal of your lips and looking at you with a gaze that made you stop breathing for a moment.

It’s not like this was the first time you’ve seen him naked, far from it, but he never failed to take away your breath. If a human could be perfect, you’re sure it would be him.

He wastes no time in coming back to you, lips on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes in and his pretty eyes screw shut at the feeling. “Fuck, always so tight for me, baby girl.”

Your ego only has a second to absorb his compliment before your own senses are overtaken by the pleasure between your legs. “Give me a second, Guk, you’re so big,” you say as seductively as you can manage, but you know your words come out as more of a whine.

He only smirks before his lips work their magic against your neck. His tongue licks at the spot below your ears before he bites and tugs at your earlobes. Aside from his dominating personality in bed, Jungkook’s soft side for you always showed through, always waiting for permission, always putting your comfort first.

You nod your head in a gesture for him to continue.

There was no build-up to his bruising pace. As soon as you feel the grip of one hand on your waist and the other under your shoulder you know you’re not going to be able to walk straight the next day. His hips snap against yours, and with the angle of your legs, you can already feel your orgasm building again.

His mouth finds yours again, but the way he kisses you juxtaposes the way he’s fucking you in force and feeling. Jungkook’s lips are soft and sweet against yours, perfectly contrasting the hard thrusts from his hips. The combination alone draws a string of uncontrollable moans from your throat, one particularly hard thrust prompts you to scream his name.

“Shh, baby, I don’t want to get shit from the other guys anymore,” he pushes two of his fingers into your mouth. You moan again at their intrusion and happily accept them, not missing your opportunity to look at him with innocence in your eyes as you suck on the digits.

“Fuck.” He pulls his mouth from your fingers and before you can blink, he has you flipped onto your stomach. He lifts your hips a little to place a pillow underneath, and pushes himself back inside of you, all so quickly that you hadn’t even taken a breath before he was thrusting into you again.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the new angle. Jungkook drapes his body over you as he fucks into you from behind, using his tattooed hand to move your hair from your face. The same hand takes the liberty to wrap around your throat with the pressure he knows you like. When you smile at the feeling, he can’t help but kiss the corner of your mouth.

If only you knew the effect you had on him matched the one he had over you.

“Touch yourself for me, princess,” he whispers in your ear and you swear you’ve never moved faster; it was almost as if your movement were involuntary. His wish was your command.

“Guk, ‘m so close,” you manage to squeak out in broken breaths.

“Me too,” he groans. “Ladies first?” At that, he sits up and angles your hips higher to hit your g-spot with more force than before. In combination with your fingers working circles into your clit, the new angle is all it takes for you to come crashing down.

The man above you follows soon after, your involuntary clenching forcing him to meet his end. He quickly pulls himself out and aggressively strokes his release onto your back.

The collapse of your body causes the bed to seemingly swallow you whole. Jungkook falls directly next to you moments later. You both lay there, panting, blissed-out messes. His hand reaches up to push your hair off your face. When you make eye contact with him, you both turn into giggly messes. The current atmosphere of the room was lighthearted, contrasting the lecherous one that surrounded the two of you for most of the night.

Soon the post-sex haze fades, and you feel the sticky feeling of his release on your back and you feel dreadfully uncomfortable.

You kick your leg at the boy next to you. “Guk, towel please?”

He hums and rolls himself off the bed, somehow landing on his feet effortlessly. As he walks toward his bathroom, you admire the view. Who were you to deny yourself the simple pleasure of staring at his ass, if the opportunity presented itself?

He uses the towel to wipe the stickiness from your skin. His gentleness would surprise you, based on how different it was from how he approached sex, but you’ve been seeing Jungkook for a little over two months now. He had a surprisingly sweet demeanor. The towel is quickly discarded and you hum as you sit up.

“Thank you,” you giggle at him before standing up and heading toward the bathroom, not forgetting to retrieve your crumpled dress from the floor.

“Hey, are you going home?” Jungkook asks quickly when he notices the garment hanging from your hand.

“Um, I was thinking about it. Why?” You say hesitantly while you stand at the threshold of the bathroom, you suddenly feel shy under his gaze. An indiscernible look passes through his eyes at your words.

“I just… I can take you back if you want me to. Or... I mean, only if you want to… you could stay here. Maybe?”

This was new to you. You’ve never seen Jungkook look so unsure of himself. Normally, the picture of confidence personified, the frat boy in the bed before you looks small, almost timid. You could feel your heart doing backflips at his proposal.

It wasn’t the first time you and Jungkook had spent the night together, but that was normally only when you two were both too incapacitated to operate a car. This feels different, somehow; if it was because you started to realize how you feel about Jungkook, you aren’t sure.

But what you were sure of was that you could never say no to him. You wordlessly make your way back to the bed and curl up in his arms. If nothing else, you can feel his love for the night and move on with your day by morning. As the end of another cycle draws near, you silently hope it will begin again, as it always does. Jungkook, as he holds you against his chest, is the last thing on your mind when you drift asleep.

You suspect he’s going to take up a permanent residence in there, no matter how much you try to avoid it.

The next morning, you wake up before Jungkook. After dreaming of him all night, you’re absolutely terrified by the prospect of being there when he wakes up.

There was no fear that he would stir with your movements about his room as you collect all of your things. He slept like a rock and you’re pretty sure that not even a tornado, hurricane, or any other apocalypse-causing natural disaster could wake him up in the morning.

You sneak out of his bedroom wearing his massive t-shirt and a pair of boxers he had lent you before you fell asleep last night. The door clicks shut and of course, Yoongi’s bedroom door across the hall is wide open as you’re leaving.

The shit-eating grin on his face is enough to convey his amusement at the situation before him. He raised his hands to his forehead and salutes you, prompting your middle finger to raise and give him a salute of your own.

You don’t give him enough time to make a comment to you about the clothes before scurrying to the stairs. You sit on the top steps and hastily slide on your boots. Thankfully you chose the chunky Doc knockoffs in lieu of the heels you were originally planning. You were already obviously doing the walk of shame, at least you had decent shoes to do it in to keep a sliver of your dignity.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, you note the state of the party room on your way to the front door. It looks like a booze-filled bomb had gone off; there were red solo cups covering the floor and the smell of alcohol hit you squarely in the face. You quicken your pace because if you stay any longer, you could see yourself getting violently ill.

The sun nearly burns your eyes out of your head when you open the door. You have to take a second to adjust to the light before you can move down the front steps. The cul-de-sac where all the frat houses resided was in a similar state to what you saw inside. Finals week was over and everybody took the opportunity to celebrate it.

Your phone starts vibrating in the small clutch in your hand when you reach the sidewalk. The name on the screen pulls a groan from your throat, you were too hungover to be berated right now.

“You’re lucky I have your location, otherwise I would kill your stupid ass for leaving me to wonder where you went last night,” Jimin’s smirk was evident through the phone.

“Should I really have to tell you when we’re in Jungkook’s fraternity where I’m going to end up when the night ends?” You quip back at him and he giggles at you.

“When are you coming home? Last I checked you were still there.” You hear shuffling on his end of the line and you suspect that he’s just now getting out of bed himself.

You pull your phone away from your face quickly and realize it’s almost noon. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was that late. I’m walking back now, I’ll be home in a minute.” You don’t wait for his response before hanging up.

It was moments like this that you were glad your apartment was only a street over from the fraternity village. When you and Jimin had scouted out your place, it was solely for the price and quality that you chose it. Your proximity to your campus’s party central was an added bonus.

It’s comical the way Jimin stands on the balcony with his sunglasses on and his hip popped to the side. You can’t help but stop at the door to your building and laugh at him.

“I thought shackers were supposed to be out by 11?” He asks cheekily.

“Oh please, when you find some poor girl to share your time with, I go whole weekends without seeing you!”

His jaw drops in feigned offense, but he says nothing. He breaks the character with a chuckle and reenters your apartment, you do the same. When you reach the second story, your hand doesn’t even make it to the doorknob before your roommate pulls it open. He grabs you by the wrist and drags you through the door.

“You can shower when you tell me what happened last night. We weren’t even there for an hour before you disappeared.” He spins you by your shoulders to sit you on the couch.

To anybody on the outside, Jimin and your relationship was odd, but you made it work. Two years ago, you and he had met at a party, shamelessly flirted, kissed, and immediately recoiled. Kissing Jimin felt wrong, and he shared your sentiment in that regard. From then on though, you and he had been thick as thieves, attached at the hip, and any other expression that conveyed best-friendship. You two told each other everything, including anecdotes about your sex life, which is usually the point at which any outsider to your relationship got uncomfortable with your candidness.

“What can I say, Jimin, I went there for one purpose and I very quickly got exactly what I wanted.” You giggle, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You’re hoping he didn’t catch it.

Of course, though, the boy above you knew you like the back of his hand. Nothing you could do or say at this point would stop the quizzical look in his eyes. “Spill, Y/N.”

You dropped your head and rubbed the back of your neck before you dramatically threw yourself into the back of the couch. “I think I’m starting to like him,” you admit, with as little emotion as you can muster. You don’t know why, but the urge to cry right now is strong. You toss the feelings back into the deep abyss that is your subconscious before they can take over.

“Woah, hey!” He drops onto the couch beside you with concern in his eyes. “It’s time to run. We don’t do feelings for people in this house, were young, out-of-control college kids remember. We don’t have time for that.”

“I know, Jimin, but he’s so addicting. Like one minute he is drilling me into the mattress and the next he’s kissing my cheek and telling me how pretty I am. It makes my brain go to mush!”

“Damn, he’s good.”

“Jimin,” you warn. The look in your eyes tells him to watch his words carefully.

“Alright, in all seriousness, you know what kind of guy he is. I’m honestly surprised that you’ve slept with him for this long. I don’t remember the last time you’ve kept a guy around for longer than a couple of weeks.”

It was true. It sounded worse than it was, you would go through bursts of “uncontrollable horniness” as Jimin called it. You could go months without having sex, but then you would find a guy to sleep with for a couple of weeks until you got bored or he tried to cuff you, then you would cut it off and move into another dry spell. It was unconventional sure, but it worked for you. Jimin only had so much room to make fun of you for it, he was a certified man-whore.

“I don’t know, dude. I know I should stop because I can feel myself getting attached to him, but I just… I don’t want to.” You groan at your situation. Why did you have to pick the most perfect human on the planet as your booty call?

“Which is exactly why you need to stop. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, babe, but I doubt he shares yours.” You only nod at his statement and stare blankly at the ceiling.

A few moments of silence pass between the two of you before he pats your thigh and stands up. “C’mon smelly, go take a shower, you smell like dick,” Jimin grins at you and reaches out his hand to drag you off the couch.

You half-heartedly laugh at him and take his hand. He pushes you toward your bathroom before going back to the kitchen to make the two of you something to eat.

The person staring back at you in the mirror looks like she’s been hit by a train. There’s mascara smeared under your eyes and your hair closely resembles a bird’s nest. While you’re rubbing the makeup from your eyes with a wipe, your phone vibrates on the counter next to you.

*12:13 pm*

Gukkie: Hey, when did you leave? Sorry I slept through it haha

Speak of the devil and he doth appear.

You ignore the text and strip before hopping into the shower. Silently, you hope that the scalding water will burn last night from your memory.

“Damn, was your shower long enough? I thought I was going to have to send a rescue party in there,” Jimin teases as you step out of your bathroom.

“The only way to kill the diseases you pick up in a frat house is to burn them off your skin.”

You slide into the stool at your kitchen counter as Jimin sets a mug of your favorite tea and waffles in front of you. You thank him with a smile and he only smiles back before going back to his own nearly finished plate of food.

“Do you want to talk about it some more?” Jimin asks you, and for a second you consider playing dumb as to the subject he’s referring to, but you know it won’t work.

“I honestly don’t know. Ask me later?”

He nods and grabs your hand from across the counter, sending you a wink. “You got it.”

It’s when you’re bingeing a new show with Jimin later that evening that you remember you never bothered to answer Jungkook. Your phone on the coffee table was now pulling your attention completely away from the murder docu-series on the TV. Jimin is engrossed with the show and pays very little attention when you grab the device from the table.

When you unlock your screen, the little number icon hovering next to your messages alerts you to how much you’ve neglected your phone today. You open the app and scroll through, reading the various messages left for you by friends and family. Thankfully, all were unimportant, usually, just funny pictures or links that they thought you would find amusing.

You’re giggling at a message from your mom about your dog back home when you back out of the conversation and notice the only unread message was the one you had been avoiding since the early afternoon.

(12:13 pm) Gukkie: Hey, when did you leave? Sorry I slept through it haha

You debate just ignoring it altogether and just dealing with it the next time you saw him. That would be soon enough, considering that summer break was here and you knew that he wouldn’t be going home as most college students do. You decide against that. At the very least you want to keep him on your good side, you had never ignored him for this long. While your text conversations weren’t the most thrilling, the small bit of connection was enough to keep the two of you on the same page. At each other’s beck and call, that was.

(10:41 pm) You: i left around noon! i didn’t want to wake you up. i’ll bring your clothes back soon

You locked your screen after sending the message and returned your attention to the screen. That was indifferent enough, right?

Not even thirty seconds after you sent the message, the device vibrates on the couch next to you and you’re embarrassed at how quickly you scramble to pick it up. You look across the couch at your roommate, and he’s staring right back at you.

“Did he text you?” He asks, almost nonchalantly, but you pick up on a little bit of something in his voice. Disapproval, maybe?

For any of his faults, Jimin more than makes up for it in the way he cares about you like a sister. It’s almost as if he can sense that you’re probably going to get hurt by a stupid frat boy.

“Uh, yeah. But I’m just asking him when he’s free so I can drop his clothes off. That’s all,” you quickly reply and you silently applaud yourself for the steadiness of your voice. He has a look in his eyes that says he wants to say more on the subject, but he doesn’t. Instead, he chooses to only nod and return his attention back to the screen. He grabs onto your calves the are slung across him in a silent gesture: I’m here for you, always.

(10:42 pm) Gukkie: Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I’ll see you soon ;)

(10:43 pm) You: something tells me you’re right about that

(10:43 pm) Gukkie: Maybe you could swing by tomorrow, sometime? I’ll be at the house all day so you can drop the clothes off

Right, as if you would only drop off his clothes and leave.

(10:44 pm) You: sure, i’ll talk to you tomorrow !

(10:44 pm) Gukkie: Sleep tight, princess :)

You don’t sleep.

You’re pacing back and forth with Jungkook’s clothes in your hand, debating whether or not to ding dong ditch and leave them on his porch. Last night, what very little sleep you did get was plagued by dreams of the curly-haired frat boy down the road. The feelings you felt for him are surprisingly strong, considering you just realized you really did like him. Maybe they had been building up for a while and when you allowed yourself to accept them, they hit you harder.

Regardless of why they were so pervasive was lost on you, but there was no denying their presence. You could feel anxious hies rising up your neck at the thought of facing Jungkook.

On one hand, you’re dealing with the excitement about seeing his cute bunny smile and inevitably, his sculpted body, if this visit turned into how you suspected it would. On the other hand, you’re terrified. Every time you spend your time with Jungkook, those feelings are probably only going to grow.

This would be the last time with him, you decide before you walk out of your apartment building. You already know that there is no way you could say no to him, so if he decided that he wanted to have sex with you today, that’s exactly what was going to happen. It’s not like you don’t want to. You’d be a fool to turn down sex with him, but you fear the way it made you feel. After Saturday night, it was obvious that you felt more than the normal, post-sex happiness when you were with him.

His fraternity’s house comes into view, the parking lot nearly empty signaling that most of his brother’s had gone home for the summer. His car and Yoongi’s remained, among a few others. You roll your eyes seeing the elder’s vehicle, knowing that he was going to tease you either on your way in or out.

You hesitate a little at the front door, unsure if you should knock or just walk in. Strangely enough, in the two months you had been sleeping with Jungkook, you had never been to the house during the day.

You don’t get to think about how odd it is seeing the brick building during the day when the door opens and the boy who’s been haunting your dreams beams at you with his infuriatingly adorable smile.

“Hi,” you say awkwardly. “Here are your clothes… I washed them.” You thrust the clothes forward into his hand.

He runs his free hand through his hair and snickers. “Thanks, you didn’t have to wash them.”

“It’s no problem!” You say a little too eagerly and you’re slapping yourself for it.

“Are you going to come in or just stand there and stare at me?” He asks you with an amused look on his face.

“Shut up,” you say as you brush past him and walk into the house. You don’t bother looking back at him as you follow the path up to his bedroom, knowing he’s following you, as he always does.

You’re not sure when the rain started, but the sounds were lulling you into a peaceful afternoon slumber. Jungkook’s bedsheets were always clean, unlike most of the guys you slept with. The soft fabric against your naked body, mixed with the soft light and sounds from the weather outside, gave you a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in the last 48 hours.

Your head is turned toward the window, eyes shut. It wasn’t that you were necessarily avoiding looking at Jungkook, lately, it seemed like it was the only thing you wanted to do, but you just happened to fall in that position after the activities of the last two hours.

Jungkook is sitting on his side, resting his head on one hand as he looks out the same window. He sighs, but you have a hard time in your half-conscious state determining the meaning behind the sigh. For now, you were just content with the soft fingers he was using to draw patterns across your exposed back. You couldn’t think about much past that.

“Y/N, are you asleep?” He asks while scooting closer to you. You hum in response and turn your head to face him. He uses his hand to brush your hair away from your face, so tenderly you barely feel his fingers when they run across your cheeks. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“No, I’m awake, just resting my eyes.” You slowly open your eyes and take note of him. He has a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

A pang of something akin to hurt strikes you in the heart. You realize that he’s probably trying to kick you out. It was the middle of the day and you were overstaying your welcome.

“I’m sorry, I just realized I’m probably taking up your whole day,” you sat up quickly and bend toward the foot of the bed to grab your top.

“Wait,” he rushes out and pulls you back down to lay down and face him. “Stay with me for a little bit. At least until the rain stops?”

You look down at the bedsheets below you and pick at a ball of fuzz to distract yourself. A sad smile graces your features when you look back at him. “I don’t think I should.”

“Oh… Okay,” he looks upset at that but you don’t want to think about it too long before you sit up again and put your clothes back on. When you return to the bed to grab your phone, you notice that he’s gotten himself back into a pair of basketball shorts and is watching you as you move about his space. “At least let me drive you home?”

You nod your head in agreement and smile at him. “Thank you.”

The walk to the door and following dash to his car through the rain is silent between the two of you. Luckily, though you know he was lurking somewhere, you didn’t have to face Yoongi. It was the small victories that would take you through today.

The drive lasted less than two minutes but felt like fiver years with the awkward silence that hung around you. It was clear by your actions that this would be over after today, neither of you having to actually say the words out loud.

Jungkook pulled into the spot right in front of the door to your building. At least he wasn’t going to make you walk through the pouring rain. Hopefully, this meant that he wasn’t angry, or at the very least, his ego wasn’t bruised by your unspoken break-up, for lack of a better term.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say as chipper as possible given the circumstances. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, sure… No problem.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck. You noticed he does it when he’s embarrassed or feels awkward without realizing it. You were going to miss that, among many other things.

You opened the door and were about to step out into the rain when he touches your shoulder. You look at him confused. He looks confused as well, shocked at his own hand for the involuntary action.

“I-I’ll see you around?” He asks, an indiscernible look in his eyes.

“I- yeah, I’ll see you around,” you smile at him gently. He pulls his hand back like the temperature of your skin is burning his own.

You quickly jump out of the car and run up to the front of the building - to avoid as much rain as you could and to get away from the boy behind you. You don’t look back.

When you push open the door to your apartment, Jimin is sitting in the recliner and scrolling through his phone. It only takes one look at your slightly damp clothes and the tears welling up in your eyes for him to hop out of his seat and make it to you at record speed.

“I’m sorry, babe,” Jimin soothes his hand down your unruly hair as you lightly cry against his shoulder. “Did you tell him anything?”

You shake your head. What would be the point? When you and Jungkook agreed to forgo sleeping with other people and engage in a friends-with-benefits-type relationship, you both made it clear that there were to be no feelings involved. You knew he wouldn’t have changed his mind about that. The only thing to gain from sharing your feelings with him would be outright rejection, and you’d rather not deal with that.

Jimin just goes back to patting your head and rocking you lightly, not caring that your hair and clothes were getting him damp too. You don’t know what you did in a past life to be so fortunate to have him as your best friend.

You’re standing like that for quite a while before you both hear a knock at your door. You move out of the way to sit on the couch and let Jimin answer the door. The last thing you wanted the person at the door to see were your bloodshot eyes and shaggy appearance.

“Can I talk to Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice startles you up off the couch. Your panicked movements draw the attention of both your roommate and the frat boy. Jimin just smiles slightly at you and moves out of the way before walking into his room. You had a feeling he would listen to the whole conversation though his door.

You walked up to the door with your head down. His breathing was ragged at as you scanned from his feet up to his eyes, you found that he was soaked. “Why are you soaked?”

“I ran here.”

“But you just drove me home?”

“Oh, I, uh, got home and forgot I was going to loan my car to one of my brother’s and then I… ran here.” He explains, but the confused look in your eye is enough to tell him that you’re not following his story whatsoever. You didn’t understand why he had to come back to your apartment, nor his urgency in doing so.

“What are you doing here?” You wish you sounded a little less sad when you said that, but you didn’t really care at this point.

“I came because I need to say something to you. I- wait have you been crying?” Jungkook steps closer to you and grabs your cheeks to look into your eyes. It takes everything in you not to melt into him and grab his hands from your cheeks.

“What did you have to tell me, Guk?” You ask him in the most even voice you can manage.

“No, Y/N answer me first, please?” Your outright rejection of his touch doesn’t stop him from running his hands up and down your arms.

“Yes,” you answer, your voice uneven as your eyes betray you and begin to well up again.

Jungkook pulls you against his body, holding you tightly against him. “Why?” He whispers the question so quietly in your ear, almost as if he raises his voice any higher you would shatter.

You take a shaky breath, deciding to just say it. “You.”

He pulls back abruptly to look you in the eyes, the confusion across his brow mixes with hurt in his eyes. “Me?”

“I like you,” you blurt out, tears slowing to a gradual drip. “But I know you don’t feel the same, so please don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks, but the look is still painted across his features.

“With pity.”

“Pity? I’m just confused.” He readjusts his grip on you to bring a hand back to your cheek. You can feel your heart pounding out of your chest while he forces you to look into his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything, instead he just brings your face forward to crash his lips into your own. It’s different from the kisses you’ve shared in the past. The ones before filled with lust, this one was tender and intense.

“Y/N, I like you too. Why do you think I ran through the rain to get back here?” He puts his forehead against yours.

“You do?” You pull your forehead from his to meet his eyes.

“Obviously. I was going to tell you earlier but you seemed like you wanted to go home so badly, so I figured I screwed up.” He sighed, a small smile of relief on his face.

“You should’ve said it earlier then, dummy!” You playfully smacked his chest and sniffled.

“I wish I would’ve, then I wouldn’t have had to see you cry.” The hand on your cheek slips behind your head and pulls you forward so he could plant a kiss on your forehead. When he loosens his grip, you pull back to look at him.

“Would you like to come inside?” You motion behind you. Jungkook answers by kissing you back into your apartment.

He breaks apart from you once the door is shut and looks at you with a cocky grin on his face. “Wait until I rub it in Yoongi’s face that you’re my girlfriend. He said you would never say yes.”

“Girlfriend, huh?” You ask while grinning up at him. There was a lot that had to be addressed in that statement, but you decided to let it slide for a later conversation.

“Uh, yeah… Is that okay?” He looks a little insecure, realizing what that he said without asking you if you wanted that.

You just giggle at him and kiss him again. You nod into the kiss, that was growing much more heated by the second.

“And that's my cue! I’m leaving,” Jimin escapes from his room and runs out the door before either of you can blink. You both laugh at your best friend's antics.

“I’ll steal you some dry clothes from his room,” you say as you turn to walk into Jimin’s room.

Jungkook quickly grabs you from behind and kisses the spot below your ear. “Who says I need clothes?”

You turn your head to look at him and consider glaring for a second. The blinding bunny smile pointed in your direction squashes any of your ideas about reprimanding him. He kisses your cheek and runs into your bedroom, stripping off his clothes along the way. You giggle at his behavior.

“Baby! I’m naked and I’m in your bed - a little disappointed that you aren’t!”

Again, who were you to say no?

a/n: im not even sure if anybody is really active on this blog anymore, but i got bored and decided to write this! it is unedited, i dont really mind though :) this is for the people that sent me messages saying that they would want to see this once it was finished. i did write it under the influence initially (as stated previously, i am of legal age!!), so it required quite a bit of editing! sorry for the delay!

#jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #college!jungkook #college!bts

954 notes · View notes

farfromharry · 3 years

Text

Call me when you get this | College!Tom fic

Summary: you knew it’d be difficult for your relationship when you and tom went away to seperate universities. but now you were missing each others calls, your only form of communication, living off of the sound of your lover through a voicemail.

Word count - 14.3k+

Warnings - language, mentions of underage drinking, suggestive content, angst

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Friday, 7th September

Standing in front of your boyfriend’s house before nine in the morning on a cold Friday in September was not the place you really wanted to be right now, especially when you were having to say goodbye to him for who knows how long.

“I guess this is it,” he said, his voice lacking that usual boyish excitement it possessed when he was around you.

Today was the day you and Tom had been dreading for so many months. The day Tom left and really solidified the fact that the two of you had to part to go to different colleges, which were also quite a few hours away from each other. Your heart was aching as he stared at you with those sad, brown, puppy dog eyes, but you were sure your own eyes were exactly the same.

You began to tear up as you watched him pack his bags into the back of his mum’s car, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout directed at him. When he turned his head he noticed you staring and opened his strong arms for you, inviting you in. You obviously immediately accepted, rushing into his warm embrace. He squeezed you tightly in his arms, feeling your body begin to shake as you let out a broken sob.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He cupped your cheeks, making sure you were looking at him before he spoke. He had a comforting smile on his lips, one that always made you feel all warm inside. “This isn’t goodbye,” he promised, kissing your head a few times, “‘m gonna visit as much as I can, we’ll see each other soon. I’m not leaving forever,” he said.

“I’m going to miss you, so much,” you whispered, letting his strong, calming, scent overwhelm you when you buried your head back in his hoodie. “I’m so used to seeing you everyday.”

“I’m going to miss you too, more than you know Y/N.” You sighed sadly, nuzzling your face even deeper into his chest, if that was possible. Tom smiled, running his fingers through your hair as you both swayed softly in your embrace.

The moment was ruined all too soon by Nikki shouting for him. She felt bad for breaking up your moment, but the drive was already long and they wanted to arrive before lunch.

“Tom, we have to go,” his mum announced, trying to motion for him to start heading to the car. All his stuff was already packed inside, you’d helped with most of that part earlier this morning just so you got to spend more time with him, and now he was all ready to go; even if you wish he wasn’t.

Nikki offered you a sympathetic smile, knowing you were struggling to part from her son. She’d always called it ‘puppy love’ but she didn’t quite understand the extent of your affection for one another.

“I love you, and I’ll call you as soon as I can,” he promised, pressing no less than three quick pecks onto your lips. You nodded, plastering on a fake smile. He wiped your tears with the pads of his thumb, his heart fluttering as you giggled at how silly you were being.

He leaned down to kiss you one more time, ignoring the mixed taste of both of your salty tears. Only then did you realise Tom was crying too, your heart aching.

“We’re idiots aren’t we?” you asked. He nodded, chuckling as he pulled away from you. The only touch you had now was from the way your pinkies were still locked in a promise that you were going to make this work.

“I’ll see you later, bub.” “See you later, Tommy.”

He placed one final kiss on your head before turning on his heel to walk down his driveway. As he climbed in the car you were tugged into a hug by one of the twins.

When you looked up you noticed the wild curls and rolled your eyes at Harry, but nonetheless rested your head against his chest. “I still don’t know how you put up with him for so long.”

You laughed, playfully pushing Sam for the comment to scold him.

“Seriously Y/N, he’s so in love with you. Everything’s gonna be fine,” he admits in Tom’s absence. He knew that if Tom were here right now he’d probably hit him for saying so out loud.

“He’s right, he never shuts up about you,” Harry added. “Always gushing about everything you do,” he fake gagged.

“He’s whipped,” Paddy said, the youngest of the brothers making you giggle. Your heart swelled in your chest, your body suddenly feeling warm, even in the cold London weather.

Within the time of your conversation, Tom had already left, shooting you one last longing glance along the way, a smile forming on his lips when he saw you laughing with his family. You eventually had to part from the brothers and head home to pack your own things, saying your goodbyes and then starting your short walk home.

»»——⍟——««

You didn’t expect that Tom would already be desperately missing you by the time it turned dark. But your computer ringing on your desk proved you wrong.

Seeing his contact name on your screen for a facetime call made your heart flutter, sitting down in your chair to answer his call. It was slightly glitchy for the first few seconds, just while it connected, but within a minute Tom’s pretty face was lighting up your screen.

“Missing me already, Holland?” you poked fun. You watched him roll his eyes, completely ignoring your comments. “Hi, angel,” he greeted.

You bit back a smile, tucking some loose hair behind your ear to try and tame it after you caught sight of the mess you looked like in the small box at the top of the screen.

“Hi, how was your drive?” you asked. You shuffled around a bit, trying to get comfortable in your now much more bare bedroom. You’d been packing your stuff for most of the day after you got home, so your hair was a complete mess that had just been thrown out of your face when you started getting too hot to have it in your face all the time. You had one of Tom’s many hoodies you’ve stolen clinging to your body, his scent surrounding you.

Just bringing the sleeve up to your nose was enough to make it feel like he was really with you right now and not just on a screen.

“It was long, very boring too,” he whined, running his hands through his curls. “I suppose my mum made it at least a little better.” You giggled, pouting playfully for him. “How awful.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you pack,” he said, motioning to the boxes stacked behind you, a soft pout on his lips that just made you want to kiss him. He’d already told you he’d felt guilty that you helped pack for him, but he wasn’t there to do the same for you in return.

“S’okay, one more box and then I’m all ready to go in the morning anyway,” you reassured, motioning around your pretty much bare room with your arms.

“It looks so empty,” he commented, recalling in his head how nicely decorated it’d looked during his millions of visits. You nodded, frowning as you looked at your childhood room that held almost no kind of decoration on the walls.

“Anyway, let’s stop moping, I don’t want to cry again today,” you demanded, hearing a chuckle come from his end. He nodded his head, quickly changing the subject to something more positive.

You and Tom were talking for hours. In that time he showed you his new dorm room, and told you that he’d need your assistance at some point to help decorate, but it was more of an excuse to get you to come visit already. Your parents also made themselves known at one point, greeting your boyfriend and asking how everything was going so far. You kicked them out after a while, playfully irritated that they were hogging your boyfriend from you.

“Get out,” you said, trying to hide your little giggle. Tom was laughing on the other side, watching this all go down. “I am so sorry about them.” He was still giggling, making you smile and roll your eyes.

“I love them, don’t worry,” he reassured you. You huffed. “I’m pretty sure they love you more than me,” you told him. He shrugged his shoulders, flashing you a cheeky grin.

“I can’t really blame them.” You scoffed, shaking your head at him, feigning disappointment.

Over the course of the call you could see him growing more and more tired. His words would come out slightly more slurred, his movements slower and his eyes fluttering shut every few minutes, craving sleep desperately.

“Is it bad that I miss you already?” he asked, eyes drooping as if he was about to fall asleep any second. You smiled, watching him with a heavy heart.

“No,” you whispered, so gently Tom almost didn’t hear it. “But i told you so.”

Your lips twitched into a grin, hearing an unimpressed groan come from the other end. When the moment died down you took another long look at your boyfriend. “You should get some rest, looks like you’re going to fall asleep any second.” He hummed, smiling at you sleepily as he rested his chin on his hand.

The simple action, even after seeing it a hundred times, still made your stomach erupt with butterflies, yet another smile overtaking your features. You were sure that at this rate your face was going to end up hurting from smiling so much, but you suppose those are the kind of sacrifices you have to make when your boyfriend’s adorable.

“Goodnight Tom, I love you,” you said, your finger hovering over the end call button. You waited for his reply patiently, knowing his very sleepy mind often took longer to process things.

“G’night. Love you.” He nuzzled his face into the blanket you’d given him before he left. The one you normally take with you to sleep at his house, the one that smelled just like a mix of your shampoo and perfume.

It made Tom’s heart pang, but your smell also comforted him in a way he couldn’t explain in words. You took one last look at his sleepy face before ending the call with a small sigh.

You fell back on your bed, your eyes landing on the box of stuff that you had to finish up before you could head to bed, your body and mind screaming at you for not doing it earlier. You begrudgingly pushed yourself up, moving over to the wall of your room that held your photos of your friends and you.

You smiled as you looked through each one, some of friends and family, others with Tom or Tessa or the other Holland siblings that had built up over the years.

One specific picture caught your eye, one where you and Tom were happily slow dancing together at his cousin's wedding in late June of the same year. The memories from that night all came flooding back all at once, your heart overflowing with love and adoration for the male for the thousandth time today.

“Ow tom, you just stepped on my foot,” you whined, frowning at him. Instead of apologising like a normal person would’ve, your boyfriend instead chose to burst into laughter. You gawked at him, trying not to crack up yourself, trying to keep up your angry facade.

“I-i’m sorry-“ he wheezed. You started to giggle yourself due to his contagious laughter, shaking your head at how childish he was.

“That hurt. You’re heavy,” you laughed, “You’re such a dick,” you mumbled, your smile refusing to fade. Tom beamed unphased by your attempted insults, kissing your head and somehow pulling your body even closer to him.

“But you love me,” he whispered, his head tucking into your neck, placing another barely there kiss on the skin of your bare shoulder. You rested your cheek against the side of his head, fingers stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck, listening to the sound of him humming along to the song.

“Yeah, I do.”

You didn’t even know Nikki had snapped the picture until you were in the car with his family driving home that night. Tom had fallen asleep in the car, his head on your shoulder after one too many drinks, the boy taking much advantage of being over the legal drinking age for the first time.

His mother had grabbed your attention in the silence and showed you the beautiful picture on her camera, watching as your face twisted into one of delight. “Nikki, it’s beautiful,” you told her, being completely honest with yourself, you were in awe.

“Well, I thought you two were just completely adorable.” She smiled at you. The romantic aura had your heart melting, asking her if you could have a copy for yourself. She was more than happy to oblige and the next day she was handing you a physical copy of the image.

Now here you were, taking the picture down after only two or so months of having it up. You felt your eyes welling up again, wiping them with the back of your hand. “Damn it Tom, you cursed, chuckling to yourself over how obviously in love you were with this boy.

»»——⍟——««

Monday, 10th September

Tom's classes at uni were scheduled to start almost a week earlier than yours, which is why he had to leave home before you. Today was his first day of classes, he only had the one today but he had already promised to tell you about it as soon as it was over. He also knew that you should’ve arrived at your own campus this morning, making a mental note to ask you how it was going so far when he called you later.

Everything on your end was going well, you ended up driving there by yourself because your parents were unfortunately busy, but the unpacking process was coming along well.

Tom left his first drama class after the hour with a wide grin on his face. He'd just had arguably the best class of his life and he could barely contain his excitement long enough to wait to tell you about it. He pulled his phone out almost as soon as he stepped out of the classroom, stepping out of the way of the students piling out of the class. He pulled up your contact and hoped you weren’t too busy with unpacking your stuff, so he could talk to you while making the long journey back to his dorm.

Your loud ringtone filling the silence in your room interrupted your current task, shuffling over to see Tom's contact lighting up your screen the same as the night before. You knew you couldn’t be annoyed at his little interruption, especially because you’d already missed the sound of his voice so much and it’d only been a few hours at most.

“Goodmorning, angel.” You smiled as he greeted you, almost as soon as the line connected.

“You sound cheerful today,” you pointed out. You held the phone between your ear and your shoulder, putting the last of your books on the small wooden bookshelf in your room.

“I just had an amazing first class.”

“Well, I’m glad, tell me all about it,” you told him. He talked to you about his morning class for almost 20 minutes, rambling and gushing about how much he enjoyed it and everything that happened, down to a T. You couldn’t have been happier for him. After your long discussion, making sure you asked him lots of questions to give him the chance to let him give you every detail, he seemed to finally take a breath and turned the topic of conversation around. You ended up talking about you now, one of Tom’s favourite things to talk about as he’s told you tie and time again.

“How’s unpacking going?” he asked, finally arriving back in his own dorm. You heard him greet someone with a hello, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “Who was that?” you asked.

“My roommate,” he answered casually, like he hadn’t forgot to mention he ever even had one.

“You have a roommate, since when?” He paused and thought for a minute.

“Since I got the room I think, his name is Harrison,” he suddenly lowered his voice, cupping his mouth around the speaker of the phone, “He’s a bit of an arsehole though, I won’t lie.” You laughed loudly, glad you didn’t have your own roommate to share the small dorm with. You quickly got back on topic, Tom asking you even more questions.

“How are you settling in?” he asked, just as you had asked him last night.

“I'm okay, have some unpacking left to do, and classes don’t start until next week.” He hummed along with what you were saying, listening to every little word. “How’s the campus?”

“It's nice, but it’s lacking a certain pretty boy that I’m so used to seeing.” He awed, teasing you thoroughly about how sappy you were. You always got nervous when trying to flirt with your boyfriend, scared it wasn’t going to come out as smooth as you’d hoped.

“Shut up,” you said, trying to mask your embarrassment. He always managed to make you flustered when you talked about your feelings for him. He didn’t let it linger too long though, changing the subject as quickly as you’d moved on to it.

“So,” he started. “When do you think you could come help me decorate?” he asked, once again changing topics, this time however you were rather grateful he did.

“Need to see me in person already, Holland?” You turned the teasing around onto him, pausing what you were doing to give him your full attention.

“You know I do,” he said. You rolled your eyes when he didn’t end up nearly as embarrassed as you had just been. Sometimes his confidence in flirting really did infuriate you.

“No, but really, I want to see you. I miss your cute face,” he said, groaning towards the end of his sentence. You giggled, shaking your head. “Well, I have all this week that I can come down and see you,” you offered.

“How's Friday? You could stay the weekend, go back Sunday,” he suggested, “If that’s okay with you,” he added, not wanting to sound so demanding like he was forcing you to come.

“That sounds perfect, but check with your roommate, I don’t want to give him a reason to be more of a dick.” Tom laughed, nodding his head. “I appreciate that,” he chuckled. “and I will, don’t worry,” he promised.

There was a sudden, unintentional shift in the mood, the two of you becoming rather quiet as you both thought for a few moments. There was still the traces of your smiles on your lips, but they were quickly fading.

“How are we supposed to do this for so long?” you asked after the laughter completely died down, finally showcasing your worry to him that had been eating up at you practically since you got your college offers.

He smiled, shrugging his shoulders to himself as if it was obvious. “We’re Tom and Y/N, a fucking power couple, we got this,” he said, quoting something your school friends used to call you, all while calming your nerves about if your relationship would work long distance. “We had this discussion plenty of times before we left, I promise you, we’ll be okay.” You smiled, not that he could see.

“Good, because I'm not letting you go that easily mister.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting you go either, you’re one of a kind Y/N.” You grinned, the two of you just basking in the knowledge of each other's presence.

“How did this get so cheesy so quick?” he asked, making you laugh.

“That’s just who you are,” you said.

You heard a childish scoff on the other end. “Am not.”

“You so are!” The two of you stayed on the call until you realised how much work you really had to do with your room. The boxes were still stacked up and unopened, you hadn’t even unpacked half yet.

“I appreciate your company, but I really need to get back to putting stuff away.” You didn’t really want to stop talking to him, but you couldn’t deny he was a massive distraction from your original task.

“Yeah of course, but I can't wait to see you Friday,” he said, making that giddy feeling linger in your chest. Butterflies were erupting in the pit of your stomach the more you thought about it.

“Me too, and we’ll have to plan when you can come down here sometime,” you said. “Unlike you, I have a room to myself,” you pointed out, having a slightly suggestive undertone to your words.

“I’ll remember that,” he paused, “Princess.”

You shivered, chills shooting down your spine, the nickname was something he would only use when the two of you were having, adult time.

“You bastard,” you said, referring to the way he said that with such ease, knowing it’d play on your mind for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well i’ll text you later,” he brushed it off, making his promise instead, hearing an ‘alright’ from you on the other end.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you more, see you later Tom.” You ended the phone call with a fuzzy feeling all over your body, smiling to yourself, dazed. Tom was exactly the same all those miles away, laying back on his bed with a lovesick grin painted on to his face. You were both so in love, and so, so confident that your relationship would make it through this distance.

»»——⍟——««

Friday, 14th September

Friday thankfully came very quickly, something you were very, very happy about. Before setting off on your long, lonely journey, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call Tom.

“Hello Thomas,” you greeted, unable to wipe your grin from your face. You were seeing your boy today.

“Hi beautiful, what’s up?” he asked, sounding rather out of breath. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do you need an inhaler or something, or-“ you teased.

“I woke up late, I'm currently running across campus to my class.” You laughed at him, receiving an annoyed scoff from him.

“I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving now, I should probably be there just after lunch,” you said.

“That’s amazing, I’m sorry you’ve got to drive all that way alone though.” You shook your head, once again forgetting that he couldn’t see you.

“It’s okay, but I should let you get back to being late for your class, good luck,” you said.

“Thanks, very funny, I'll see you when you get here,” he said. You could practically hear the smile in his voice, even over his dog-like panting.

“See you later.” You hung up with a small squeal, a small smile staying glued on your face, even well into the drive after the conversation had ended.

You had to admit, the car ride was lonely by yourself, but it was also so worth it for Tom. It’d only been, not even two weeks, but you missed him greatly already and from what you’d heard from him, he felt exactly the same.

The silence in your car was filled with the sound of your different playlists playing through the speakers. Some were just from random playlists, others from the playlist that you and Tom seemed to most enjoy together.

You could feel your heart starting to beat faster, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you got closer and closer to your destination.

You sent him a quick text when you hit traffic just outside of the campus, telling him you’d be about 10 more minutes. You just received a simple smiley face in response. You and Tom both had your locations on for each other anyway, so he’d know when you arrived. It’d become a promise that you always would after one night when you’d been out with your friends getting drunk, and you’d gone a little bit too far.

You could barely even stand straight anymore, having already forgotten about a few drunken messages you’d sent to Tom before the last shot you’d taken. You were drawn out of your daze when you felt your phone buzzing against your leg, seeing Tom’s contact on your screen. You squealed like a little girl, answering his call with a slurred yell of his name.

“Where are you, baby?” he asked, concern laced all through the tone of his voice.

“ ‘M having fun with m-my-” he heard you huff, “I can’t find them.”

Tom’s eyes widened at the thought of you being alone and drunk in now an unknown location. He cursed under his breath, trying to think of a reasonable thing to do.

“Can you turn your location on for me, Y/N?”

You hummed, pulling the phone away from your ear. You tried to steady your vision, telling Tom that the room was spinning. It made things ten times more difficult, but you eventually managed to do it, alerting Tom with a cheer.

“I did it, Tommy,” you said, “Are you proud of me?” you sounded like a scared child, desperate to receive Tom’s validation.

“So proud of you, angel.”

Tom pulled up your location on his phone, noticing you were at a bar. He wasn’t sure how you’d managed to successfully get in underage, being only 17, but you managed.

“Can you stay where you are for me?” You nodded your head before realising he couldn’t see you. You giggled to yourself quietly before mumbling a quiet yes. Tom offered to stay on the phone with you but you told him you needed the bathroom, feeling as though you were going to throw up.

When Tom arrived, he had to ask the bouncer if he’d seen you, showing him a picture. The large man motioned to where you were sitting on the curb by yourself, shivering from the cold hitting your bare arms. He bent down beside you, reaching out to place his hand on your arm, shocked by how cold you were.

“Tommy,” you gushed, wrapping your arms around his neck, “By the way, I didn’t throw up,” you stated, almost as if you were proud of that achievement.

“That’s good, but let’s get you home.” He pulled off his jacket to wrap around your shoulders, helping you up off of the floor and guiding you to his car. You were heavily drunk but you weren’t completely out of it, so when Tom drove past your house, you began to whine at him.

“I’m not letting your parents see you like this, they’ll kill me and then you.”

You huffed like a child. “You’re too pretty to die.” Tom laughed, reaching over to grab your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Yeah?” “Yeah,” you sighed dreamily.

Tom helped you inside his house, making sure to avoid any creaks in the floorboards so he wouldn’t wake his family. He guided you up to his room and then started the process of being a good boyfriend. No matter how tired you were, he helped you change into some of his clothes, helped to take off your makeup and tied your hair up and then made you brush your teeth by yourself, even when you complained.

The last move was getting you under the covers off his bed, seeing you pass out almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. “Goodnight angel, you’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow.”

And true to Tom’s word, you woke up the next morning in his bed and clothes, your head pounding and only a faint memory of the previous night. Tom strutted into his room clad in only a pair of plain black joggers, his abdomen on full show.

“Ah, you’re finally awake.” He placed a glass of water and two pills down on the nightstand beside you, telling you to drink up so you could feel better. He filled you in on all the basic details and you just wanted his, ridiculously comfy bed, to swallow you whole.

“Maybe we should keep each other’s locations on from now on,” Tom suggested. You nodded, rubbing your side head and leaning into him. “I think that’d be a good idea.”

That’s how he knew you’d arrived in the campus car park. You had barely even stepped out of the car when he practically tackled you in a hug, taking you off-guard. You laughed loudly, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your nose into his cheek.

“I'm so glad you’re here,” he said, squeezing you tightly. You couldn’t push away your grin, your heart feeling like it was going to explode as you held your boy in your arms.

“I missed you bub,” you whispered, pulling back to kiss him. Your lips molded together perfectly, the two of you feeling as though you were complete again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever shared a kiss like this with Tom, and the two of you had shared lots of kisses. This one was different though, it felt like every moment of emotion from missing his person these past two weeks was being poured into this kiss and you loved it.

“Oi, Holland, cool it with the pda.” Tom turned his head, spotting one of the lads from his drama class and suddenly feeling embarrassed. You tried to turn his head to kiss you again, searching for his lips with yours and ignoring the obvious moron that interrupted you, but then huffing when he denied you. You followed his gaze, seeing a boy standing a few feet away.

“Who’s that?” You watched as he flipped him off jokingly, making some comment about how he at least had a girlfriend.

“That's Tuwaine, he’s in my drama class, met him the other day.” You nodded, smiling before turning back to look at your boyfriend.

“So, are you gonna show me to your dorm, or do we have to stay out in the cold?” you teased. He laughed, helping you take the bag you packed out of the back of your car and offering to carry it for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you commented.

“That I am,” he said, bowing playfully. You shared another round of laughter before you silently decided you really should get out of the cold weather.

“Lead the way, handsome.” He laced your fingers together, leading you in the direction of his building. You walked slowly, giving you both a chance to catch up. Over the small journey you’d shuffled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your other hand around his arm.

“Right in here,” he said, guiding you through the door of his building. His hand resting comfortably on the small of your back. He unlocked the door to his room, opening it and like the gentleman he claimed he was, let you go first.

The two of you entered his dorm room, Tom holding out his arms and muttering a quiet ‘voila,’ making a show of it. You giggled at his behaviour, humming as you looked around at the messy and pretty much bare room.

“Very nice, it practically screams boy,” you pointed out, sending him a tormenting smile.

“Hey, hey, be nice.” He pointed his finger at you, scolding you teasingly.

“I’m always nice, whatever do you mean?” you smirked, playing dumb. He tossed your bag on his bed and pulled you in by your waist, he kissed you again, more passionate this time now it was without the interruption of the public eye. You gently pushed on his chest, ignoring his whine when he tried to follow your lips again, just as you had done earlier.

“I came here to help you decorate, not to sleep with you.” Tom rolled his eyes.

“We could do both,” he muttered. You tossed one of his pillows at him, seeing him raise his hands in defense.

You punched his shoulder lightly, kissing him quickly.

“Alright, let’s decorate,” you said, clapping your hands in front of you. Tom pulled out the boxes he had yet to unpack from his small wardrobe, handing you one that had pictures in it.

“Where do you want these?” you asked. He motioned to the wall next to his desk.

“Right there, so I can stare at your beautiful face when I don’t want to do my school work.” You giggled, nodding your head.

“Alright then, can’t argue with that.” You started pulling pictures out of the box, some of you two together, some of his family.

“Do you remember this?” you asked, holding one of the pictures of you both between the tips of your fingers. It was you and Tom at his family’s cabin in France, the one where they go skiing almost every year. You were both in big coats and snow trousers, trying to keep warm on the snowy mountain. You both had your ski goggles resting on your head, the two of you grinning widely. “Yeah, I do, he smiled, “That was such a great trip.”

“That reminds me, my mums been asking about if you’ll come again with us this year.” You smiled at the thought of Nikki thinking about you and wanting you to be around her family.

“I'd love to, I always have so much fun there,” you said, trying to be heartfelt and honest.

“Me too,” he winked, referring to the separate ‘fun’ you two always have right after midnight on new year's day, just to start the year off right.

“Behave,” you warned, pointing your finger at him.

“When's your roommate coming back?” you asked, changing the topic while stretching to put up another one of his pictures. He laughed, pressing his solid front to your back, cheekily nibbling on your neck.

“Why, something on your mind?” he asked, hinting at something else, squeezing your waist underneath his hands.

“No, stop that,” you scolded playfully, shaking your head at your boyfriend. “Just wanted to know if he’d have an issue with me being here, that’s all.” Tom hummed.

“He said he’d be fine with you being here, in his words ‘as long as he doesn’t have to hear us fuck,’ so.” You laughed, nodding your head.

“Well, he won’t have to worry about that,” you said, a cheeky smile on your lips. Tom pouted, however accepting your kiss as apology.

You spent the next few hours unpacking Tom's things, focusing more on hanging up some of his clothes on the racks he had, rather than the pictures you were doing earlier. At some point you did steal one of his hoodies, pulling it over your head just to have a sense of him close to you, even if he was already in the room with you, receiving the comment of, “Just can’t stand to be away from me, huh?” tugging at the material of the pink hoodie. “Shut up.”

After it went dark, you and Tom put off the rest of the decorating until tomorrow, not that there was much left to do anyway. You agreed on just watching movies for the rest of the night, calling for pizza. He got some extra too, to thank his roommate for letting you stay.

You spent what felt like forever searching for a film on your boyfriend’s laptop, finally settling on one that you and Tom both thought sounded good. The two of you sat together on his bed, your legs in his lap and his hand rubbing the scratchy fabric of your jeans.

“I’m starving,” you whined, burying your head in Tom's chest. Your stomach growled just to prove your point, making Tom laugh.

“It'll be here soon,” he reassured. A knock on the door made both of your heads perk up.

“That was good timing,” you joked. Tom jumped up from his bed, pulling some cash out of his wallet and opening the dorm door.

He frowned slightly when he saw his roommate.

“Forgot my key, sorry,” Tom nodded, seeing your face drop knowing you had to wait even longer for your food. “Someone did hand me this on the way in though, said it was for our room.” He held up 2 pizzas, a cheer coming from you that made Tom laugh. He handed them both to Tom. Tom however handed you one of the boxes, then the other one to the blonde male, who looked at him confused.

“This is actually for you.” He handed him the box of pizza, receiving a rather shocked thank you. “Just a thank you for letting Y/N stay,” he explained.

“This is Y/N by the way, Y/N this is Harrison,” he introduced. You smiled, waving to the blonde.

“You can join us if you’d like, we’re just watching a film,” you offered, just trying to be polite.

“No it’s okay, I’ll let you enjoy your time together, but thank you.” Tom smiled before making his way back over to you, climbing back into his bed behind you. He kissed your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and getting himself comfortable. Harrison put in his own set of headphones, watching something on his computer.

The movie dragged on, finding it growing harder and harder to keep your focus on it.

“Are you tired?” he asked. You hummed, turning your face over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend.

“We can finish the movie tomorrow,” he said. You thanked him, nuzzling your face in his chest and wrapping your arm around his stomach.

“Get ready for bed, I’ll pack this all away,” he said, motioning to the food and things on his bed and nightstand.

“Okay,” you mumbled, begrudgingly letting go of him and climbing out of his bed. You stretched your arms, your shirt riding up slightly and exposing the bottom of your stomach. Tom playfully jabbed you, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling.

“Stop,” you whined, slapping his hand away, pouting as he laughed at you. Tom kissed all over your face until you smiled, getting rid of your pout.

You grabbed your bag off of the floor, sticking your tongue out at your boyfriend childishly. You headed to the attached bathroom to change. You changed out of your current outfit, putting on some comfortable shorts to sleep in that you’d brought with you and then leaving on Tom's hoodie that you stole earlier. You put your hair up, just so it wouldn’t get in your face, tying it in a messy ponytail at the crown of your head.

“Y/N, are you decent?” Tom asked. You furrowed your eyebrows, opening the door for him.

“What’s up?” you asked, pulling your makeup remover out of your bag.

“I need to brush my teeth,” he said. You nodded, shifting to give him enough room by the sink as you began to take off your makeup. He watched you like a hawk the entire time, following your hand movements with every gentle swipe of the cotton pad on your face.

“What are you looking at?” you asked, causing him to snap out of his slight, dreamy daze.

“You’re just so pretty.” You huffed, shoving his shoulder.

“Stop being such a sap,” you commented.

“Only for you,” he teased, sending you a wink through the mirror.

Halfway through him brushing his own teeth, you began to brush yours. Playfully bouncing your hip against his own to push him out of the way of the sink. He stumbled and you let out a muffled giggle, watching him glare at you.

“Oh it’s on, I'll get you back,” he promised, receiving a teasing ‘oo’ from you.

After spitting in the sink, he flashed you a toothy grin through the mirror, one that made you giggle. Now that he had nothing left to do, he moved over to start bothering you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently prodding your stomach to try and tickle you and get you to laugh.

“Tom,” you scolded, trying to focus on brushing your teeth.

“Hurry up, I wanna go to bed,” he whined, sounding almost like a pouty child. You finished up brushing your teeth, holding your hair back as you spit your toothpaste into the sink.

You wiped your mouth with the towel and then turned to Tom with a smile. He playfully pinched your cheeks, telling you you looked cute.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said, slapping his hands away. He placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the bathroom.

Upon entering his room again, you saw that he’d actually cleaned up his mess for once, receiving a proud, but sarcastic, clap from you. He caught on, telling you to behave.

“Come on, get in.” He pointed to his bed, letting you get in first. His bed was barely bigger than a single, so the two of you had to cramp together, not that either of you would ever complain. He climbed in after you did, pulling you back into his chest and burying his face in your hair.

“You smell really good.” You giggled tiredly at his comment, eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you bubba, now go to sleep.” He turned off the light above his head, kissing your neck and closing his eyes.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled.

“G’night Tommy.”

You had to admit to him, his bed was almost as comfy as sleeping on a cloud- not that you’d know what that’s like, but still. It was possibly the best night's sleep you’d had in months, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the bed or because you were back in Tom’s strong arms. When you woke up though you were alone in the bed, looking around to find you were alone in the room too, Harrison’s bed already having been neatly made.

The door opened right on time and Tom strolled in. He noticed you were awake and flashed you one of his charming smiles.

“Good morning,” he greeted. You stretched your arms above your head, making a soft noise that almost made Tom melt in his converse.

“Morning,” you smiled, pulling his covers up so they were right underneath your chin. Tom thought you looked so precious, pulling out his phone to snap a quick picture of you, even after you protested against it.

He leaned down, kissing you gently.

“I went and got us some breakfast.” You pushed yourself into a sitting position, thanking him quietly. You ate together, making happy conversation. Tom asked about how you slept and also admitted he slept better with you in his arms. He basically forced you out of bed, after you refused to leave the warmth.

“Let’s finish decorating and then we have the rest of the day to spend together, doing whatever you want,” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

The rest of the weekend after that went by quicker than you would’ve liked. It felt like only hours before Tom was walking you to your car, ready to say goodbye to you again.

“I hate this,” you whined.

“Me too,” he mumbled. “I'll come and see you soon though, I promise,” he said, squeezing you tightly before opening your car door for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, referencing the moment when you arrived a few days ago, kissing his lips.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can,” he repeated.

“I love you,” you muttered, running your fingers through his untamed curls.

“I love you more.” He kissed you one more time. You climbed into your car, waving to him through the window as you started up the engine. You sighed as you drove out of the gates of the campus, not really ready to start your long journey back to your own.

»»——⍟——««

Friday, 18th November

Unluckily for you and Tom, ‘soon’ ended up being almost a whole two months later. Tom was so busy with schoolwork that just kept piling up and by the time he was free, you were busy. The cycle kept repeating and it was horrible. You missed your boyfriend greatly and you were hoping he missed you just as much as he said he did.

Tom had arrived at your campus early in the morning, at a time you wished you didn’t have to be awake, just so he could spend longer with you. At least you could appreciate the gesture, even if you were losing out on sleep.

“And this is where the magic happens,” you said, opening the door to your dorm and guiding him in. He chuckled, kissing your head.

“What kind of magic?” he asked, an underlying dirty meaning to his question.

“Shut up.” you flushed.

“I can’t believe I haven’t been able to touch you in almost two months,” he whined, his boyish attitude dissolving and being replaced by your whiny, adorable boyfriend, nuzzling his face in your neck.

“I know,” you said, getting completely distracted by running your fingers through the overgrown curls that were peeking out from underneath his cap. You thought it was adorable, but you knew he’d grow to hate it soon enough. “You need a haircut,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I think I like it longer,” he said as you pulled off his cap, tugging at the long strands of dark hair. Tom stared at you as you did so, watching how fascinated you seemed to be with his hair. He couldn’t help leaning in, connecting his lips with yours.

“Uh-uh, not now,” you told him. “Later, baby.”

He huffed, pulling your lip between his teeth, running his hands up and down your body.

“Come on, you can decide if you like my hair longer.” His sentence had an underlying tone of lust to it, just like his earlier comment had too, trying to hint at a very non-pg act the two of you could be doing right now.

“Nope, later though, I promise.” He whined, throwing his head back. You bit back a grin, taking in the way his jaw looked sharp and very much attractive from this angle.

“Well, get dressed handsome, I’m taking you to dinner.” He lowered his head and looked at you with a smile, kissing you softly. “Are you trying to woo me, now?”

“Of course, now put on something pretty and let’s go, I need my arm candy.” You slapped his butt playfully, moving over to your wardrobe to pull out a slightly raunchy dress. Tom recognised the fabric instantly, one he’d seen time and time again that made him go wild.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” he asked, in a state of shock just imagining you in the material.

“Got a problem with that, Holland?” you asked. He rapidly shook his head, unsure if you were joking or not. “Good, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go change.” You made your way into your bathroom, changing into the risky dress without any more interruptions from your boyfriend.

You took your time getting ready, wanting to make Tom wait just to build up even more anticipation.

“Y/N, hurry up,” he whined. “I want to see you, already,” he complained, whining like a child on Christmas who didn’t get the toy they wanted. You opened the bathroom door slowly, leaning against the frame, staring at him innocently.

“Oh wow, you look incredible,” he said, getting up from his seat on your bed to shuffle over to you, sliding his hands around your waist. You made eye contact with him through the mirror, giving him a seductive smile that had his hands wandering around your body.

“How is my girlfriend so attractive?” he asked. You giggled, leaning back into his touch.

“We need to go, we don’t want to be late,” you said, dodging having to respond to the compliment that made you feel all warm inside, taking his hand and your purse and leading him out of the door.

Tom was in awe of the restaurant when you arrived, he didn’t realise you were taking him somewhere this fancy. “This place is really nice,” Tom said, looking around the restaurant. His hand clinged to your waist nervously as you told the hostess about your reservation. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been somewhere this nice that hadn’t been some sort of family function, so he felt like royalty right now.

“Are you trying to bankrupt me?” he asked, poking your stomach. You slapped his hand away, turning your attention back to the woman.

“This is my treat, come on.” You snapped him out of his daze, guiding him with you to your table. He pulled your chair out for you, kissing your head and almost daring you to make the gentleman joke again.

“You know I’m not letting you pay for this, right?” he asked. You stared at him with a furrowed brow. “Why not?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m visiting you, let me spoil my girl.” He changed the topic of conversation before you got the chance to object.

“I’m so glad we got to do this,” he said. You shook your head, a grin growing on your face. You couldn’t lie though, you were happy to see him in real life again.

“Me too, I know we say this like every day,” you laughed. “But I really missed you Tom.”

He leaned over the table, kissing you gently before sitting back down in his own seat. You went straight for and picked up the drinks menu, making Tom laugh and shake his head. “Already on the alcohol.”

“Oh hush.” You scanned the list of wines, finding one that you and Tom had purchased before on a special occasion. You pointed to the name, seeing the cheeky grin spread across his face.

“I remember that night,” he chuckled. “How many rounds- I’m sorry I mean bottles, did we have that night?” Your jaw dropped, giggling at his false cover up. You shook your head.

“We’re in public, stop being inappropriate,” you warned. He shot you a wink, making your whole body flush for the thousandth time since he’d got here this morning.

“Hi, are you ready to order?” the waitress asked, glancing between you two and interrupting your reminiscence into the past. Tom looked up at her with a smile, her eyes widening.

“Could we just have a bottle of red wine for now, please,” he pointed to the one you meant. She nodded, trying to give him a flirty smile that made you snicker. She glared at you, timidly touching Tom’s shoulder before walking away.

“What was that?” you asked, a playful smirk that told Tom you weren’t mad at him.

“You can’t blame me, I’m just that irresistible.”

Her antics continued for most of the night, and you were growing more and more frustrated with how she was blatantly ignoring you to flirt with your boyfriend.

“If she flirts with you one more time, I won’t hesitate to knock over my wine on her,” you threatened, seeing Tom’s lips twitch into a smile.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, intertwining your fingers on the table. He raised his free hand in defense when you glared at him.

“Shut up.” You kicked him gently as a warning, seeing the wince cross Tom’s face.

“But not the red wine, you know that’ll stain,” he continued to tease, sarcasm lacing his words. You huffed, flipping him off. Tom didn’t let up on teasing you about your spontaneous hatred for the waitress all night. When she brought out your food he couldn’t help but make a few sly comments in response to her flirting.

“Do you want to try some?” he asked, holding his fork to you. He was trying to make up for pissing you off. You nodded, taking the food off of his fork with a hum.

“That’s really good.” He nodded, taking a sip of his wine.

“Do you want to try some of mine?” You offered, doing the same for him as he’d done for you. He took it with a thank you, telling you he really liked it. Your food didn’t last long, you were both starving and it was exceptionally good.

You and Tom grew more and more tipsy as the night went on. You began to flirt with him some more too. You’d forgotten how much you enjoyed spending time with Tom.

“Oh here she comes,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. Tom laughed, squeezing your hand in his.

“Do you need anything else?” she asked, her flirty gaze focused on Tom. You rolled your eyes, teasing your heel up his thigh under the table as you sipped on your drink. He coughed nervously, trying to ignore how close your foot was to his crotch.

“C-can we get another bottle of wine, please?” She nodded, leaving you both as you were.

“Spoiling me today are we?” you teased. He laughed, nodding his head. “Always, gorgeous.”

After your second bottle you didn’t waste much more time at the restaurant after paying the rather pricey bill, calling a taxi to take you back to the campus.

You could barely even stand straight by the time you were pushed up against your dorm room door. Your hands were working on unlocking it, struggling with the way his lips were attacking your neck and shoulders. You still weren’t wasted, but you could definitely feel the alcohol in your system, making everything feel lighter and Tom’s touch even more amplified than normal.

“So, when’s your roommate coming back?” he joked. You giggled quietly, throwing your jacket somewhere in the room.

“Very funny, now shut up and just get in my bed.” He laughed loudly, picking you up by your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinning up at him when he dropped you back on your bed. “Get ready for the night of your life,” he whispered, attaching his lips to your neck.

“I’ve been ready.”

»»——⍟——««

Wednesday, 3rd April

As the months went by, the visits became less frequent, finding it increasingly more difficult to find time to actually physically go and see each other. Rather than at least once every two weeks, it started to be once in a while, and then eventually you wouldn’t see each other until the trip over Easter break.

You both tried to call as much as you could, but you eventually started missing each other's calls more and more. It got to the point where you could not talk to each other for a minimum of 3 days, with the exception of a quick text in a morning or just before you went to sleep and the occasional voicemail.

It felt like everyday one of you was waking up to the notification of a missed call on your phone, followed by the message you’d received a voicemail. They all went the same way, a greeting, making some kind of light hearted joke that you’d manage to plan badly again, a simple i love you and then a call me when you get this.

When Easter time finally rolled around, painfully slowly, you and Tom were able to organise a time when the both of you would be free so you could plan the trip you wanted to take together.

The familiar sound of your ringtone blared through your dorm room, a small smile creeping onto your lips when you saw Tom’s contact picture lighting up your phone. The picture was an old one you’d taken of his a few years ago, reminding you that you should probably update it soon with a more recent one, that is if you had one.

“Hey, Tom,” you said, greeting him sweetly. You got a hello back, followed by a rather uncomfortable silence that the two of you had never experienced before. “So, um, where are you thinking we should go?”

The man on the other end was biting his lip nervously, not sure if you’d like the sound of his idea or not, but this also had never happened before, so what was he supposed to do? He always came up with ideas you loved.

“I was thinking we could go to this cabin I found, really pretty view, um-“ He hated that he was unable to see your face right now, not able to see what kind of reaction you were giving off to his words. “You can say no of course, but I thought it’d be nice.” His voice trailed off towards the end and he spoke much quieter, almost like he was scared to hear your answer.

“That sounds really nice. I’d love to.” You could hear him let out a sigh of relief, the man feeling as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest.

“Great. I’ll make sure to call the place.” “I can’t wait.”

When the day of your trip rolled around you were nervous. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in forever and you weren’t sure if things were automatically going to jump back to the way they’d been, even if you were hoping they were.

Your eyes landed on Tom with a smile, the man opening his arms to you for a hug. You had no problem practically jumping at him, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly while his snaked around your waist to hold your body close.

“I missed you, so much,” he whispered, his nose buried in your neck to take you all in. You agreed silently, pulling back to be able to press your lips onto his sweetly, sharing your first kiss in months.

Tom had been generous enough to pick you up from your campus and then drive you both down to the cabin, rather than you having to drive yourself. The car ride was full of the stories you hadn’t been able to tell each other yet, filling what would’ve been an awkward silence.

You were more than happy to be back with him, and little did you know he felt the exact same.

However, it felt like for the first few days of the week that you weren’t really there. Of course you and Tom were both physically there but it felt like you were sending longing gazes and looks from a distance rather than really feeling that natural spark between you both.

You’d be sitting on the couch in the cabin, both of you in silence as you watched any random movie that played on the TV in front of you. Normally the two of you would be making constant unnecessary commentary throughout the duration, but here you were, sitting stiffly next to your boyfriend.

“What is wrong with us?” Tom asked. You turned your head, furrowing your eyebrows at the pretty boy who was staring right back at you with those puppy eyes.

“What do you mean?” you asked. You had an idea that he was talking about the atmosphere between you both.

“This is so awkward, we- we’re usually so natural and us,” he complained. You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder with the first display of affection that night.

“Yeah, I know. We’re probably just out of practice, right?” you suggested. You didn’t want to believe that your relationship could be going downhill, you were Y/N and Tom, that couldn’t possibly happen. “We’ve got this Tom, we’re still us.”

That short conversation seemed to have worked. Over the next few days, and the last few remaining days of your trip, you and Tom were practically back to your normal ways. Your affection and love was able to come naturally again, calming all your racing thoughts about the pair of you drifting apart.

Unlike the past few days, now you’d be in the kitchen cooking, laughing and making jokes while having mini food fights. Or you’d be getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth when Tom would wrap his arms around you from behind and start placing kisses up and down your neck, making you flush and giggle sweetly. You spent your mornings sharing sweet words and kisses that made you completely weak for the man, and even thinking about giving it up again for who knows how long brought you physical sadness.

When it came to the time you had to leave you were obviously sad, more than you thought you’d be when this week began. You and Tom had almost managed to rebuild your relationship to the strength it once was, so now it was hurting just as much as the first time he left on that Friday in September.

He drove you back to your campus in mainly silence, the two of you keeping your fingers interlocked while he drove, soft music playing over the radio in the background.

“How much longer?” you asked, hoping to have at least a little longer with him. He flashed you a small smile. “Under twenty minutes.”

You sighed, feeling him squeeze your hand in response while his eyes stayed fixated on the road.

In a very short twenty minutes Tom was pulling into the College, parking quickly and turning off the car. The two of you just sat there for a minute, not saying anything but at the same time saying everything that needed to be said.

“Well, I guess this is it,” you said, turning to him with a sad smile. He nodded his head, lifting your hand from where it rested in your lap to place a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“‘m gonna miss you,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his forehead comfortably against yours. You hummed, quickly pecking his lips.

“Don’t forget to call me, Holland,” you warned, pointing your finger at him playfully.

“Wouldn’t even dream of it.”

»»——⍟——««

Sunday, 29th May

By the time June was about to roll around you hadn’t seen Tom in almost two months.

He never did call, and the calls you left for him only ended up being missed. Everything had gone back to the way it was before. Almost two whole months. You still had faith in him, and almost everyday you’d wait to see if he’d call. Most of your calls to him would go straight to voicemail, so you simply gave up on putting in the effort.

It was the same routine everyday. Wake up, go to class, wait for Tom’s call, give up. Today was slightly different because you had plans for the night. You tried to wait as long as you could in your dorm to see if Tom would call, but when the clock hit six you gave up.

Some girls you’d begun to be friends with from your History class had invited you to a party they were going to, so to take your mind off your boyfriend not calling, you agreed to go. You did some light makeup, curling your hair like you knew Tom liked, then slipped on a black dress that would’ve made him drool.

You snapped a few pictures, some of just your face but then others of you in your dress too, debating on whether or not you wanted to post them to your account where Tom would definitely see.

After staring at them for probably way too long, you gave in and did it anyway. You smiled as your friends gave nice comments, waiting to see absolutely anything from your boyfriend.

A sudden knock on your dorm door startled you away from your entrancement with your phone, opening it to see your new friends with large smiles. They held up a bottle of alcohol that would no doubt be for pre-drinks, making you laugh. You ignored their attempts at trying to get you to do a shot, telling them you were waiting on something from Tom.

“Are you ready to go yet?” one of them asked. You sighed sadly and nodded.

“Let me just grab my purse,” you said, you walked back over to your bed, checking your phone one last time with a sigh, still nothing.

“Alright, let’s go.” You smiled, closing your door behind you and heading off to the party to forget. You laughed together along the way, internally grateful for them trying to take your mind off your boyfriend.

But even in the party atmosphere, after they’d gone to get drinks or find someone to hook up with, you struggled to tear your eyes away from your phone.

“Y/N, I don’t want to see this phone again,” Lainey said, holding two drinks in her hands. You were guessing she was already tipsy.

“Hey, fuck him okay? He’s the one missing out.” You giggled, thanking her and nodding. You put your phone in your bag out of sight and took the drink from her outstretched hand.

“Now, let’s party,” she announced, dragging you into the crowd of people where you’d end up being for the remainder of the night.

When you finally got back to your dorm after the party, it was the first time you checked your phone in hours. You saw a couple missed calls from Tom, as well as a voicemail. Your excitement from the night faded and your heart clenched, frowning that you’d missed him again. Even when you were waiting for any sign of contact from him, you weren’t expecting him to call you today and now you just felt guilty for mentally cursing him out earlier on.

You played the voicemail on speaker as you were taking your makeup off. The sound of Tom’s voice still made you feel all warm inside, even when you were mad at him, and you were addicted to the feeling.

“Hi beautiful, looks like I missed you again.” He laughed. “We really need to get better time management.” You nodded your head with a smile, agreeing. “I just wanted to hear your voice, I had a pretty shitty day and uh, yeah,” he paused. After hearing that you were able to hear the obvious signs of sadness lingering in his tone. “I saw your post by the way, you looked gorgeous, I hope wherever you went you had fun.” It was quiet for a few seconds.

“Call me when you get this, I love you.”

Your heart ached, you didn’t know he’d had such a bad day. You planned on calling him back straight away, but upon noticing the time and realising that at three in the morning Tom would most likely be asleep, especially due to him having classes in the morning, you didn’t have much faith in him answering.

Just as you suspected, the call almost straight away went to voicemail, telling you to leave your message after the beep.

“Hey Tom, I’m so sorry I missed your call,” you started. “I-I was at this party and just got so caught up in it all, I didn’t even see my phone ring,” you paused, the line going silent again.

You knew when he listened to this voicemail that he’d hear how happy you sounded talking about the party. For now you knew you needed to say something else before the line cut you off.

“Well, I’m really sorry your day was bad. Call me back, I want to hear what happened, ‘nd know what I can do,” you told him. “I love you tom.”

Your eyes wouldn’t let you stay awake much longer after that. Letting you change into comfier clothes before you passed out for the night.

The next morning was a Monday, and you had absolutely nothing to do all day due to having no classes. You woke up earlier than you would’ve liked, having a quick snack for breakfast and then climbing back into your warm bed.

You pulled out one of the books Tom had bought you over Christmas, smiling as you traced the hardback cover. You could still vividly remember how happy you were the moment he’d given it to you.

“So I know I already got you something,” he stated, grabbing the wrapped book from out of his suitcase, “but I also know how much you’ve been wanting this.”

He placed the present in your hands. You thought it felt quite heavy, beginning to tear away the wrapping paper until the mystery was revealed. Your eyes widened as you read the front cover, over and over, just to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. It was the same book that you’d been trying to find since its release, however it’d been sold out everywhere and you’d complained to your boyfriend countless times.

“Tom, oh my god,” you gasped, staring at him in shock, “How did you get this?”

“I have my ways.” His lips curved into a smirk and you pulled him into a tight hug, practically suffocating him.

“Thank you, you angel.” You kissed him softly, but it was a kiss that was filled with so much passion and adoration that it made your head spin. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m guessing this means you like it?” he teased. You rapidly nodded your head, even if he was being sarcastic.

“I adore you.”

You were engrossed with reading it for the next hour or so, a soft smile on your face as you got lost in the storyline. It was arguably unlike anything you’d ever read and you absolutely loved it.

The loud, blaring noise of your ringtone filled the silence in your room, making your heart leap, alerting you of an incoming phone call. You reached over to your nightstand, picking it up and glancing at the caller ID.

Seeing Tom’s name splayed across the screen made you smile, bringing the phone up to your ear after answering.

“Hi Tommy, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today,” you said, smile wide as you answered the call. “I was just reading the book you got me for that one Christmas, d’you remember?” You heard him clear his throat, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“I think we should talk.” Your heart dropped, smile falling from your face, putting down your book and sitting up straighter because he definitely didn’t sound happy.

“What?” you asked, following with a nervous laugh. It probably wasn’t what you thought it was right? It was just a harmless phone call. “Where is this coming from?”

Tom felt vulnerable. He was never one who was amazing at having deep conversations where he’d wear his heart on his sleeve. And he was positively in love with you, so this was torture. “I never talk to you anymore- We never talk anymore. You’re always out having fun and I-I feel like you don’t want to be with me now.” You frowned, tears beginning to cloud your eyes at his confession. You weren’t even aware he felt like that until now. You were glad he’d told you, but your heart ached at the idea of you making him feel like this unintentionally.

“Tom, I love you, with my whole heart and I-“ You heard his shaky breath and quiet sniffle down the phone line, your heart breaking at the sign he’d been crying- or maybe even still was. “Tom.”

“No, I, it’s breaking my heart Y/N,” he cleared his throat. “I just-“ he stopped talking, sighing loudly. He was starting to get frustrated with himself. He didn’t know how to confess his feelings and it felt to him as though he was making it harder.

You weren’t able to process what was happening right now. Your thoughts were running wild and you were scared to death that he was about to break your heart, something he promised he wouldn’t do when you started dating. As cliche as it sounds, you thought he was it for you. You weren’t able to picture anyone else in your life besides Tom, and even though you were young, you were certain this would be endgame.

You were crying now too, tears racing down your cheeks, dripping from your chin to your lap as you sniffled. You whimpered his name into the phone, prepared to fix this and fight for your relationship, you couldn’t lose him like this, not this easy. Part of you was hurting for him, you felt utter sympathy for what you’d been putting him through, you wish he’d told you sooner so you could’ve tried harder. But, another part of you was angry at him, for springing this onto you so suddenly, for doing it over the phone and for being so selfish.

“What are you saying?” you asked, your voice coming out weak and filled with obvious desperation. “Tom, please, I can’t lose you.”

There was a few moments of silence. A few hours away from you Tom was sitting alone in his dorm room. At least he thought he was alone. For the entirety of the phone call Harrison had been standing outside of their dorm room. He was about to enter when he heard Tom talking on the phone, not wanting to interrupt he decided to wait, but the course of the call clearly took a turn from the usual lovey-dovey conversations he overheard.

Tom had his knees pulled up to his chest, his head leaning back against the wall and his bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he played out all the things that could happen from now on in the call.

He was evidently stressed, tears streaked across his cheeks as he took shaky breaths to push down his sobs. “I-I think we should talk about this another time,” he said, the sound of a small sniffle following down the phone. You squeezed your eyes shut, more tears spilling down your cheeks.

You didn’t know what that meant. Did he want to break up? Did he want to fix things? When was another time? There were so many questions floating around unanswered and you wanted to scream at him for leaving things so open ended.

“I-I don’t understand. We can figure this out- Please.” Your voice broke towards the end, showing your pain through to the man who was struggling to hold back all of his emotions.

He hated knowing he’d put you in pain but his own heart was hurting too, and it was almost like part of his resented you for that.

He gave up a little bit, deciding he couldn’t do this anymore, not today. “I’ll call you some other time Y/N. Goodbye.” You let out a sob as the line went silent.

Tom, for one, hadn’t told you he loved you when ending the call, and two, he’d said goodbye. The one thing you promised that you wouldn’t say to each other while you were gone, a promise you made on the very first day he left. It was always, see you later, and now you didn’t know where you both stood.

When Harrison heard the call ended he took it as his chance to enter his room, only to find Tom with his head buried in his hands as he tried to muffle his heartbroken cries.

“Hey, man.” The brunette looked up nervously, furiously wiping his eyes and trying to pretend as though he hadn’t just been bawling his eyes out. “You okay?” he asked.

Tom wasn’t an idiot. He knew he looked a mess, he knew Harrison noticed, and he didn’t particularly feel up to lying right now. He just needed a friend.

“No,” he answered honestly. Harrison frowned, taking a seat next to Tom on his bed. The two hadn’t been that close since becoming roommates, but were much closer than when they’d first met.

Harrison pulled Tom close to him in a friendly hug. He hadn’t quite been through a breakup so he didn’t know what to say to Tom to help him, but for Tom this was enough.

“Things will get better, I promise.” He shook his head, almost laughing at how ridiculous his roommate sounded right now.

“I don’t think they will. Not anymore.”

»»——⍟——««

Thursday, 3rd June

It got to the point where you hadn’t heard from Tom in four days. You were almost sure it was over at this point if he didn’t call you soon. You’d tried calling him of course, left countless voicemails and texts, as well as the ones to wish him a happy birthday, something you were rather upset you missed.

You’d barely left your bed in days, it felt like you were too heartbroken to even move. Little did you know Tom was exactly the same. He’d overthought everything he’d done, refusing to speak to anyone but Harrison, who was only making sure he still ate and drank, meaning he missed lots of messages and calls on his birthday.

With a lot of persuading and guilt tripping from his roommate he finally decided to do something about it. “You need to talk to her, mate. Don’t let this ruin everything you have.”

After that he showered for the first time in days, which Harrison was very grateful for, and got dressed and was ready to head out with one last burst of reassurance to himself.

When you heard the knock on your dorm door you didn’t even consider moving to see who it was, choosing instead to keep ignoring the world like you’d been doing for the last near week. You’d ignored pretty much everyone that had tried to see if you were still alive this week, messages from friends included.

It was only when the knocking became more urgent that you started to get frustrated. Normally after a few short minutes your friends would give up and just leave, but this only seemed to be carrying on.

You groaned, wiping your dried tears and pushing yourself out of bed begrudgingly. You didn’t care that you looked like a mess anymore, so you didn’t care that this person, whoever it was, was going to see you like this.

You pulled open the door open rather angrily, your eyes widening in shock when you saw Tom standing there with a bag on his shoulder, looking almost as broken as you did, but possibly more cleaned up as he’d actually made an effort.

You didn’t know how to react at first. You didn’t know where the two of you currently stood and you didn’t want to push his boundaries, but seeing him standing there told you he was ready to fix this. When he flashed you a small smile you didn’t waste another second, nearly flinging yourself into his arms, almost crushing whatever it was he was holding.

“Oh, thank god,” you cried, wrapping your arms around his torso. You were scared he wouldn’t hug you back at first, confirming what you thought about your relationship truly being over. That wasn’t the case though. Tom wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly in his grasp, his hand drifting to the back of your head to keep you tight against him.

The two of you thrived being in each other’s touch again after so long without it, feeling as though your heart was finally mended again.

You were reluctant to pull away. However, you unfortunately had to at some point. You led him inside your room, trying to quickly tidy at least a little bit of your mess that had collected over the past few days, even if that meant just making your bed for you both to sit on.

Tom set whatever had been in his hands down on your desk and then placed his bag on your floor before sitting down next to you on your bed, finally letting you see the mini cake he’d brought with him. You felt your heart flutter, the idea that he still wanted to be able to celebrate his birthday with you was too precious for you to handle.

You didn’t talk for a few minutes, messing with the sleeves on your jumper that was probably Tom’s as you waited for him to talk.

“Y/N,” he said, watching as you raised your head to look at him. “C’mere.”

He opened his arms for you, not feeling physically close enough to you as he wanted to be. He helped you crawl into his lap, your legs thrown over his while your face tucked into his neck. His hand rubbed up and down your back when he felt the way you were shaking slightly.

You were trying to string together the sentence of words you wanted to say to him but for some reason it was just too emotional for you.

“I-I was so scared Tommy,” you admitted. “I didn’t want us to be over,” you cried.

Tom hated seeing you like this, knowing that he’d been putting you through this for days without returning your calls or messages, even if he was no better on the other side of the phone. He shook his head, cupping your cheeks and making you look at him so he knew his words would sink in. He gently wiped away your tears, even if they just kept on coming.

“I would never, I promise,” he said. “I could never let you go that easily, not without trying to make it right. I’m sorry for putting you through that.” You smiled, for the first time in days.

“Good, you’re too hot to leave me,” you teased. He chuckled, shaking his head at you. “I’m sorry too, by the way. I didn’t know I was hurting you.”

It fascinated you that all you needed was to apologise and pretty much all was forgiven. Things clearly weren’t going back to normal straight away but you were glad you were able to at a minimum not break up.

The whole moment felt like something from a movie. Tom was looking so lovingly into your eyes, silently pouring all his love for you in the simple action of holding you while his thumb stroked your cheekbone. You looked back with an exact reflection of his own emotions, your heart feeling as though it was mending everything that had broken it this past week.

Tom took the moment to lean down to kiss you, his lips curving into a frown when you turned your head for his lips to meet your cheek.

“Why can’t I kiss you?” he whined. He looked like a scolded puppy, his expression bringing a smile to your lips. Your expression changed though when you remembered why you didn’t let him kiss you, letting out a huff that twisted into a frown. Tom gently kissed away the crease that had formed between your brows, your face heating up at the simple gesture of love.

“You said goodbye,” you said, hitting his chest lightly. He cocked his head in confusion. “What?” he asked, innocence lacing his tone.

“On the phone. You said goodbye, and you told me we wouldn’t do that.”

He could tell you were getting worked up again, his hands coming up to wipe any stray tears that fell. “Oh bub, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot for doing that over the phone,” he apologised, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear to keep it out of your eyes.

You smiled at him, letting him think you’d forgiven him enough to finally let him kiss your lips. He leaned in again, only inches away this time when you pulled your head back, giggling quietly to yourself as he let out an audible groan.

“Now what?” he asked.

“You need to tell me what that cake is for first,” you grinned. He rolled his eyes, reaching over as much as he could to grab it from your desk.

“I thought, seeing as we missed my birthday, we could celebrate together a little late.”

Your heart melted as he confirmed your thoughts. You rested your head against his shoulder, letting out a sigh as you allowed your eyes to close for a few seconds.

“I missed you,” you mumbled. It was something the two of you said a lot, but even then every time was just as true as the next. He hummed quietly, kissing the top of your head lovingly.

“I know, I missed you too.” You gave in this time when he gently guided your chin so you were looking up at him, letting him press his lips to yours gently. Your hand snaked into the hair at the back of his head, keeping him close to you so he couldn’t pull away from you prematurely.

When your lips parted you rested your forehead against his, your eyes tracing the freckles that decorated the skin of his nose and cheeks.

He lifted his hands up slightly, a motion to show the object he was holding. “So, how about some cake?”

You let a soft giggle slip past your lips, nodding your head as you wiped away and excess tears that still remained on your face. Tom rummaged through a few things in his bag until he found some utensils to eat the cake with, making you laugh at how he’d come so prepared.

“Happy late birthday to me,” he said, taking a bite of the cake with a content look on his face. You hummed, watching him with complete adoration glittering in your eyes.

“Happy late birthday, Tommy.”

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, relishing in the fact you were back together again. Your mind was brought back to the bag you’d seen him bring, catching his attention long enough to ask him a question.

“Are you planning on staying?” you asked, trying to contain any excitement just in case you’d end up getting your hopes up. He nodded, trying to suppress his grin as he saw your eyes light up. “I want to take the time to make this right again, Y/N,” he admitted. “As long as it takes.”

You agreed, pressing another kiss to his soft lips. “As long as it takes.”

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

tom holland taglist → @seutarose @lmaotshollandd @photoshopart15 @hopelessly-harry @call-me-baby-gir1 @icyhollands @sinisterspidey @siriuslyslyslytherin @musicalkeys-blog @itstaskeen @tpwk-grande @zspideyy @spideyssunshine @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lowkey-holland @hollandcrush @wizkiddx @sannie-san-shine @sonnydoesrandomshit @hopeless-romantic-baby @thehumanistsdiary @dummiesshort @itsbieberxholland @lillucyandthejets @piscesparker @bvttercupbby @mymilliefrommarketing @spideyspeaches @kujokura @l0velyevans @jess-holland23 @felicityparkers @quxxnxfhxll @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @bora-world @annathesillyfriend @lovableparker @whoeveniskendall @hollandswife @sunwardsss @dhtomholland @messedupmyfuckinglife @bi-lmg @londonspidey @multixfandomwriter @mrsholland96 @tomhollandismyhusband1996 @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @magicalxdaydream @hallecarey1 @aayaissaa

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland oneshot #frat!tom

375 notes · View notes