#but anyways. being raised by three generations of alcoholics means that when i start having panic attacks i just get hammered

[singdreamchild]

There's a Light That Never Goes Out || Inge & Cassius

Location: Cassius's Crypt

Timing: Pre-goo, Julyish

Parties: Inge (@nightmaretist) & Cassius (@singdreamchild)

Summary: Inge goes to confront Cassius after he ignores her texts for over a month. He's cold and distant, but it breaks the deeper their conversation goes. Turns out, they both have a lot of pain they need to work through. But they have each other.

Content warning: Suicidal ideation, mentions of spousal abuse, alcohol use

It was hard to decide how she felt as she moved through the astral. Inge had been having trouble with that in general as of late, as more negative emotions joined her mental fray. Emotions she usually kept at bay or rejected, seeping through the cracks of her well-built barriers. Was she frustrated, worried, hurt or angry? All at once? She had no interest in these feelings usually, and yet they all seemed to be taking turns.

So here she was, going to visit the so-called friend who had failed to return her messages and calls for a month. Inge couldn’t be completely mad about it, considering all the times in the past where she had disappeared on others — but still. Something about it bothered her. Maybe it was her altercation with Rhett, splaying open her weaknesses for her to be confronted with. It wasn’t something she wanted to admit though, that maybe she had needed someone like Cassius.

No. This would be simple. She’d chew him out for being silly, be a bit dramatic about it and then soon enough they could drink wine and complain about the new school year. It would be simple.

And so she appeared, no further than three foot from Cassius. “Boo.” She stared at him, trying to gauge whatever had caused him to fall of the face of the planet. “Where’ve you been?”

Another day, another reason to grade homework. With the school year recently starting, Cassius was glad that he didn’t need to keep coming up with excuses to avoid talking to people. Granted, people was just one person at this point, and that person was Inge. He loved her, don’t get him wrong. But he just couldn’t be fucking bothered to care about anyone right now. What was the point? They all leave anyway. So, he kept grading in his crypt by candlelight. It wasn’t anything difficult, just a worksheet that went along with the chapter reading he had assigned for his students. This year, same as every year, he had been assigned to the freshman class for world civ, as well as the AP European history course for the upperclassmen. It gave him something to focus on, an excuse to socialize without it having to mean anything. The betterment of children, or whatever the fuck he needed to tell himself. 

Then, Inge was just there. He didn’t jump, he just closed his eyes and slowly put down the paper he was grading along with his pen. “Here.” Cassius said simply, expressionless. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed in his usual get up, instead of black leather pants and a mesh top with a leather jacket on top, he was in black sweats and a band t-shirt, hair thrown up in a messy bun on the top of his head. “You know, you could’ve stopped in anytime, but you preferred to do it the ridiculous human way and text me like I’d answer.” He spoke, pointing a finger at her. 

Staring at her with an expectant look in his eyes, he raised his brows at her. “So what do you want?” He then asked in a flat voice, as if he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Something was clearly amiss here, in this stupid crypt he called home. She followed his voice and blinked her eyes at the vision in front of her, feeling herself get annoyed with it. Cassius looked like a goth with depression (which one might assume to always be the case, but often wasn’t) and Inge was glad that their kind didn’t tend to have the same B.O. that their alive counterparts did. She wondered when he’d last showered.

It wasn’t like she didn’t understand life getting in the way. Hell, hadn’t it done the same for her? She had spent so many nights in the astral and in people’s dreams, rotting her days away at home where she meditated and fled mentally. “Oh, so it’s my fault we’ve not seen each other because I didn’t think to just rudely intrude onto your living space?” Her eyebrows were raised, taking none of the lack of logic she was presented with. “You could have answered my texts.” 

Inge just continued to stare at him for a moment, not breaking eyecontact and feeling increasingly annoyed. Part of that was because she felt worried, and worry never suited her well. “Since when do I need to want something to see you? What the hell’s up with you?” If she’d been better at this, she’d have asked him if he was okay. But she wasn’t. 

He knew he wasn’t going to get away from this conversation, no matter how hard Cassius could push, he knew that Inge pushed harder. “I could have, but that would mean forming meaningful connections with people that inevitably die or disappear in the end.” He spoke, the melodramatics of his voice contrasting with the flattened tone he spoke with. 

“It’s no one’s fault, dear.” He finally said, raising to his feet with that same intense yet distant stare on his face, no trace of sadness, happiness, anger. Nothing. “I simply did it on purpose. A novel concept, I know. I didn’t want to see anyone.” He admitted, blinking once more out of habit than actual necessity. “Oh, come off it. You always want something.” He then snarled, finally showing an emotion. Anger, betrayal, hatred. “Sorry I haven’t been around,” he spoke in a sardonic tone, shaking his head around as he said it. “I’m not the same person you last saw.” Cassius crossed his arms over his chest, finally his personality was starting to match the outer exterior he let others think he was. Mean, evil, edgy. All the above? Who knew. 

“So if you’re only here to yell at me?” His tone lilted as he spoke, as if he was teasing her, trying to edge her on. “Sorry, let me act the way you want me to.” He then said, clearing his throat and holding up a hand mockingly as he spoke again. “It’s been so long, my dear Inge. I am truly sorry that I haven’t been at your beck and call as you are used to, seeing as how you’re the only friend I really have. I’ll remember to make sure my schedule revolves around your wants and needs.” He blinked a few times, tilting his head to the side with a smile that didn’t reach his blank, expressionless eyes. “Better?”

She remained quiet – an impressive feat, for Ingeborg Endeman – as he went on and on and on. He must be projecting, must be handling something that had happened in a more than questionable way, moving from emotion to emotion while attempting to seem as sharp and edgy and impersonal as a knife. Some of it stung. Most of it was just grating.

She clicked her tongue eventually, a sheen of hurt on her face. “I wasn’t yelling. I could, though, if you want a bloody fight.” But for now she refrained. Inge was in no mood to argue with these void, ugly words — barbed wire and venom, meant to cut and not meant to hold any actual substance. Of course, there were plenty of relationships she had that were transactional, where all she did was follow her whim or desire or greed. And of course, there was always the risk of her upending her life and abandoning the people around her. But as of right now, Cassius was something of a true friend and she was here, wasn’t she? 

“You’re being presumptuous. Rude.” Mean, even, but Inge could take mean. She could repay it in kind. If Cassius wanted to cut her, she’d cut back. He’d said something about people disappearing and so she shook her head. “If you’d rather be alone, though…” Before the finish could finish, she was gone, into the astral and looking at Cassius from up above, no longer tangible even to his vampiric senses. She remained for a moment, letting at least a minute run out, before reappearing where she’d just stood. Arms crossed. “Do you want to try that again? Because really, the only thing I want of you right now is for you to stop acting like a teenage girl, maybe offer me a drink and tell me what it is that’s … caused you to change.”

There was a moment of relief that flooded over Cassius as the woman disappeared, only for it to immediately dissipate the second she reappeared. He took a deep breath, then shook his head. “I’m tired of getting attached, only for it to be taken away without a trace.” He finally said, eyes trained on the ground. “Richard.” He said solemnly, he knew Inge knew what he was talking about. “He was back, and I was terrified and excited and I felt like I could finally get everything back that I had been missing.” He began to explain, moving his hands around as he spoke. “But then he disappeared again. And I know that there are hunters on his tail. He probably took off so they couldn’t associate me with him or whatever bullshit it is this time.” He bit at his black fingernail for a moment, then shook his head. “Serves me right for getting my hopes up.” He finally muttered before opening one of the coffin drawers, which had no bodies in them, only storage. An unopened bottle of cabernet and a wine opener. 

He said nothing, only popping open the bottle and pouring out a glass and handed it over to her wordlessly. “And I…” he trailed off, almost ashamed to talk about it. She was truly the only person that he could talk to about these things. “There was someone. I was finally moving on. Then she disappeared.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And when she left, I snapped.” His gaze looked like it was a million miles away, breaking his trance when he took a sip from his own glass. “Tried fresh human blood for the first time, though.” He then added, making a face as if to say not bad. 

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry I took my own frustrations out on you.” He finally said, able to look her in the eyes for the first time since she appeared to him. “It’s easier to drive people away than admit what’s really going on.”  He sucked on his teeth for a moment, thoughts drifting elsewhere. “I don’t feel like being nice to people anymore.” He tried to explain. “There’s something about giving into instinct, I mean. I already dress like a vampire, why not act like it for a change?”

He reminded her of Vera, in all the ugliest and worst ways. Petulant behavior that she didn’t have an answer to or solution for, so all she could do was freeze up and leave before returning eventually. Vera had, of course, been fifteen years old, whereas Cassius was at least a century older, which was why Inge looked at him with a different kind of anger. “And so your solution is to … disappear yourself,” she concluded, perhaps a little harshly. It was hypocritical of him, she thought, and she was still bitter about he way he’d spoken to her moments ago. Scratch the way he reminded her of her daughter: he reminded her of a dog, barking and snarling before looking like a wounded puppy. At the name of the other’s sire she grew a little less venomous, though. “Well, fuck him, then. If he thinks that kind of thing is best for you, then he’s just a coward.” Sanne and her had been chased by hunters aplenty, but they’d always done so together. Until Inge had opted to turn her back, of course, when her own maker had been caught and undone with an axe to the neck. 

She took the glass of wine, immediately nipping it and humming in approval. She looked at Cassius with a look that wasn’t quite understanding, but was one of genuine empathy, or at least her best attempt at it. “Where’d she go? And shit, Cassius, two of ‘em in a row. That’s gotta sting.” At his confession that he’d tried human blood she found herself completely lacking understanding. Heartache she could get, at least somewhat distantly. She shrugged. “It’s your nature. Don’t chastise yourself for finally giving in to it.” If he wanted to be judged for feeding off humans, he’d have to talk to someone else.

Inge let out a sound, perhaps of amusement. “Deflection and projection are understandable. Shitty, though. It was kind of a bitch move.” But she was smiling at him. (She’d remember, though, she would.) “You don’t have to be nice to me. I just want you to respect me. Yeah?” Fucking bare minimum, she thought. She smirked. “Instinct is good. Following your nature is good. Just don’t get too messy. This place is crawling with slayers.”

The vampire idly swirled the red wine around in the glass as he stared at the wall for a moment, brows furrowing. Cassius was concocting a plan, one that he knew Inge would shame him for attempting. “There’s a slayer that tried to kill me,” he began, looking over to Inge, focusing his gaze. “Richard saved me before he could land the final blow.” He took a sip from his wine before continuing. “And now that Richard is no doubt hellbent on killing the slayer, I had an idea.” There was a twinkle in his eye, a mischievous one. “I will never be truly free until Richard is dead. That’s why I have the plan to strike up a deal with said slayer and kill the bastard myself.” 

The way that Cassius smiled at the idea was slightly off. Like the idea of killing someone filled him with an insane sort of glee. “And then, I leave.” He waved a hand through the air. “I mean look at where I live!” He exclaimed. “It’s time to move on, I’ve been here for ten years and people start to get suspicious when you look the exact same after a decade.” He didn’t add that this idea he had would most likely end in his death. “I want, more than anything, to be free.” 

He thought about it for a moment, he had never lived his life without the idea of Richard looming over his shoulder. And the memories of the time before his sire appeared into his life were blurry. After all, that was almost two hundred years ago. It was hard to remember anything before him. He had always been. No, Cassius deserved this. “I don’t even know if he has been using his influence over me,” he then added, brows stitching together at the idea of being truly controlled. 

He sighed as she brought up the fact that he was abandoned. Again. “I’m nothing if not used to it,” he then said plainly, taking a long drink from his wine until it was gone. Clearly, Cassius wasn’t used to it. He refilled his glass. He stared down at the red wine, narrowing his gaze. “It’s another thing that Richard held his influence over me with,” he spoke in an icy tone. “Never drink the blood of a thinking creature,” he mimicked Richard’s deeper voice with a roll of his eyes. “Well not anymore. Maybe, after two hundred years, I can truly live for myself for once.” 

She was, for a moment, too stunned to speak. Inge filled her mouth with wine to have an excuse not to, because her first instinct was to get up, hit him against the back of the head and tell him he was an idiot. It didn’t dissipate as she swallowed her wine, but she opted to verbally respond in stead. “You’re … going to work together with a slayer to kill your sire? Am I getting that right? Working together with a slayer?” She sat back, threw a hand up as if to say whatever. “Stupid plan. But do what you need to.” Even if it was a suicide mission. “Don’t get killed in the process.”

She drained her glass, held it out for a refill. So he was leaving, fine. He whined about being abandoned and now he was announcing his own abandonment of the town. She understood. Inge thought of leaving aplenty. “So the one who’s left becomes the one who leaves. Where would you go? I’ve been considering swapping this place for a bustling city myself.” At least she understood his desire to be free. “I’ve been missing New York.” Was she asking to leave together? She wasn’t sure. It was becoming somewhat clear that she didn’t matter quite as much to Cassius. Fine.

There was no desire to speak of the influence of sires. Her mind tended to move towards her own maker, that glorious and beautiful woman who Inge idolized until this day. She refused to crack that perfect image of her. Hearing Cassius talk was not an incentive to keep doing so, was destined to start thoughts of reflective doubt of her own. “Well, fuck him. He sounds like a bore. You’re a vampire. You should drink blood. We are all creatures who survive off consumption, humans and undead alike — why practice abstention in a world ran by desire?” It was ludicrous. 

She found herself feeling embittered, displeased with this version of Cassius. On one hand, it was exciting that he was looking further, wanting to widen his horizons and give into instinct — but on another, he was being a fool about it. Besides, his words from moments before still stung. And maybe she just wanted to ask about her, though that wasn’t a thing she wanted to readily admit. Inge didn’t want to be hurt by something as simple as people’s words or lack thereof any more. “Does this mean you’ll finally move on from teaching stinky teenagers?”

Pinching his fingers against the bridge of his nose, Cassius let out a deep, suffering sigh. “Shit, I’m an asshole.” He realized aloud. He was almost ashamed to look at her. All this time he was thinking about himself and all the things he needed to do to further his life, when he was ignoring the one person he had left in this God-forsaken town. “You’re still here.” He spoke, as if he was realizing it for the first time, himself. “So fucking focused on the fact that two people left that I forgot that you still haven’t left, though now you have absolutely every reason to do so.” He frowned, almost afraid to meet her eyes as he refilled her wine glass. 

He didn’t know where he would go, he hadn’t thought about it. “I haven’t been to New York since I first moved to America,” he then spoke. “I bet it’s a lot better now that it has plumbing.” He lofted his brows, realizing that so much had changed in the world around him since he was alive and he just hadn’t bothered to really pay attention to it. It made him wonder how much London had changed, a place he hadn’t gone back to in so long. The last place he was ever alive. 

He let out a breath through his nose, finally meeting her eyes. “You’ve stuck by me through a lot of my bullshit, and I’m sorry for making you deal with more.” He took a swig from his drink, breaking eye contact for a brief moment to stare at a wall, anything but her scathing stare. “I’m sorry for what I said.” His voice was soft, genuine. “I said it out of desperation to push you away, and now I’m afraid that it worked.” His shoulders slumped at the idea of losing truly everyone in his life, he didn’t like the idea, not as much as he may outwardly portray. “If you want to punch me, that’s completely valid and fair.” 

He was catching up. Inge wondered what all those centuries had given Cassius in wisdom, because it certainly seemed lacking right now. She nodded. “Yeah. A right cunt, you are.” She didn’t tell him it was fine, because in a way it wasn’t. And though she didn’t want to keep going on about why it wasn’t – as that would be showing her cards, her investment in him, her hurt – she didn’t feel like placating him either. “Did it ever come to your mind, Cassius, that I would need you too? Or are you just focused on what you require from people, and the wallowing in their absence, when there are others around for you still?” Immortality made people selfish, she knew that through personal experience. Right now she had the moral upperhand.

She chuckled. “Yeah. It’s probably a lot better. I was there before I came here, it was solid there. Plenty of undead, plenty of exciting nightlife. Bunch of annoying hunters, though.” Inge grimaced. It was hardly as if this place was any better, but New York had been larger, had offered more anonymity. She still went there sometimes, at night. To the MET, to look at the artworks through the astral. 

His mood kept turning, switching and she found it hard to keep up. Inge knew how illogical emotions could be, though, was prone to these kinds of moods herself. So she didn’t chastise him too much. “I mean, I’m not a bundle of warm feelings for you right now, no,” she said, taking another sip from her glass. “I get it, wanting to be solitary. It’s how I function best too. But it’s nonsense to try and sabotage the good things you do have. So don’t do that. Treat me with more respect than that.” Then she shrugged. “I’ve no interest in punching you. If I did, I’d have done it already, without your permission.”

Cassius smirked. She wasn’t wrong. It also didn’t help that he felt the urge to lash out one moment and regret it the next. He wanted not to care anymore, to simply throw it away and start over somewhere new. He had never bothered to get close to anyone throughout his life. It made things complicated when it came time to move on. And here he was, finding himself in a complicated position with moving on because of his formed connection with Inge. “You always hold yourself in a way that feels like you wouldn’t need anyone at all,” he answered earnestly. He always saw her as someone who knew what she wanted and didn’t take any shit from anyone. He didn’t think for a second that she actually needed him. He frowned. He was a fool. 

He gave a wry smile as Inge spoke. She was right. Of course, she was always right. “It makes things messy,” Cassius said simply. “Forming connections, you’re the first person I’ve had anything with since I was a human.” He shook his head, realizing that Inge had been the real first step to moving on from the shadow of his sire he stayed under. “It’s hard to break out of the mold that Richard put me in.” He confessed, taking a long swig from his drink. “Why keep meaningful relationships when I’ve been conditioned to live somewhere for a set amount of time, then move on?” He frowned, staring down at the wine. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. He was starting to come to the realization that despite his years, he’d never truly lived at all.

He knitted his brows together, the distress of his realization striking him harder than he thought. “Well, if I’m not abandoning Wicked’s Rest,” he began, swirling the remaining liquid in the glass as he thought back to his previous plan. “Then the bastard’s gotta die.” He reiterated with a nod of his head. “I’ve been alive for over two hundred years, and not once have I ever done anything without thinking what my sire would do or how he would react.” Cassius’s frown deepened. “I’m done living the way I have. Boring and lifeless.” He thought momentarily, taking another drink and swishing it in his mouth, lost in thought. “First, I have to figure out how the fuck do that.” He looked up at Inge, expression one of confusion and determination wrapped into one.

That was an interesting assessment. Inge sat with it for a moment, wondering whether she really needed people — she didn’t, of course she didn’t. She had lived all these years, through and past grief, as a person who relied mostly on herself. But she needed something. Company. A corner to turn to, in a moment of high need. A friend, even if temporarily. “Everyone needs people,” she answered, which was a general statement. “I need company, friends. People to drink wine with and speak about life with. Sure. I can take care of myself, but I don’t want to be alone.” She thought about her altercation with Rhett. “I need people when I’m in trouble, sometimes. Selfishly.”

He put into words what was the issue with most immortals, wasn’t it? As their bodies remained in stasis and the world moved on, there was no place they could stay long. Inge found she missed her companion. She hadn’t searched for a replacement, though. “It is hard. I understand this. I met plenty of people like this, and with plenty I stay in touch but … none of those relationships are as … constant as the ones I’ve had before.” She swallowed. “I had a companion once, you know? We were partners. She made me. It was more tolerable, in a way — to have someone there.” Even if they fought, even if Inge resented her, even if Sanne resented her back for reasons she never understood. “She died. Not by my hand — slayers.” She shook her head. “Regardless. I think even if you move from place to place and leave people behind, I think the relations can continue. We are immortal. Some time and space doesn’t have to undo our ties.”

She took a long sip from her glass as he spoke of his ludicrous plan again. “Is that the only way you can ensure your freedom?” Inge thought of Hendrik for a moment. This didn’t seem like a situation that called for divorce papers. “Cassius, it seems stupid. I can help you with changing how you live — we could feed together, go dancing at Dance Macabre … we could run a scam! Anything to battle the boredom of immortality! That’s where I excel. Do you have to occupy yourself with killing him, when you could focus on such things in stead? If he’s gone, let him stay gone.”

Staring down at the ground, Cassius nodded his head slowly, as if coming to his own realization. “You’re not alone.” He said, looking up to her. “Not with me around, anyway.” He gave an apologetic smile. “And I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.” The vampire nodded his head slowly. He didn’t know what he would have done if he had lost Richard to a slayer. “I’m sorry that happened,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in sympathy. “Richard and I… we were together for a very, very long time. I became wholly dependent on him, and to lose him in such a way, I… I don’t think I would have come out as strong as you have.”

Cassius frowned as Inge spoke, it wasn’t that easy. “Elder vampires make things a bit… tricky.” He began to explain, taking another drink and staring at a spot behind her as he formulated his thoughts into words. “Richard can control me. And he’s possessive. Once he learns that I’ve decided to stop living in his shadow?” He rolled his eyes with a shake of his head, letting out a bark of laughter. “He could turn me into his emotionless puppet without so much as a blink.” 

Cassius tapped his foot against the ground, shaking his head. “No, he has to die. If I want to truly be free, I have to kill him. I’m not going to let it get to that point.” He paused to take another drink of his wine, staring down at the liquid before lifting his gaze up to Inge. “He’s used and manipulated me for one-hundred and eighty damn years, Inge.” His tone took on an almost desperate quality to it. “Once he’s gone, I can finally do something with my life. Something that isn’t the same song and dance that he’s forced me to do since the day he turned me.”

He then gave a wry smile, tilting his glass to the side as he thought over her ideas of a good time. “I wouldn’t be opposed to those ideas.” Cassius then spoke, a spark of excitement igniting behind those often bored eyes. “You have any scams you’ve wanted to run? You seem like the kind of person that has a few ideas on deck.” He gave her a once over, then smirked. “Also, feeding with you would be strange. Because I have to be there physically, you don’t.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot. “And you know I already go to that club at least once a week.”

It was a nice sentiment. You’re not alone, he said, and it could be nice — but he hadn’t been there for weeks, like he pointed out. Inge took his apology and considered it, before shrugging. “I guess we’ll see,” she said, giving him a small look. “But you won’t be rid of my friendship so easily.” She was quiet for a moment. Was she strong? She certainly considered herself as much, but to be called it sincerely by someone whose opinion she respected was still somewhat stirring. “I was a mess after. I made some good fucking art, though.” Had she been dependent on Sanne? Not in the way she had been of Hendrik, that was for sure, but still — she had had someone. “And time has passed. It doesn’t heal the wounds, but it makes them … more tolerable.” Did it? She thought of her daughter on her deathbed. She looked, without melodramatics or exaggeration, genuinely sad for a moment, before recollecting herself. “Grief when you’re undead is a dreary thing, no?”

At the revelation that elder vampires had more powers than Inge had anticipated she made a bit of a face. “Control you, how? Manipulate your emotions, or something?” He did sound like quite the problem. Not one she was particularly keen on solving, although that might have something to do with her continued, slightly soured feelings towards Cassius. She didn’t want him to live under this Richard’s thumb, but she was also not sure what she could do in the grand scheme of things — she was hardly good at combat, and all her skills were only useful against mortals. Couldn’t really put a vampire to sleep.

“And how do you plan to do it? Not some suicide mission, I hope? I don’t see how I can lend a hand, but I suppose, should you have an idea —” She waved a hand, the best way she could say I want to help. It was lackluster. Her mind was occupied, she found, emotions toiling in a way she most despised. 

So, onto different ideas. “Of course I have scams I want to run. I mean, I haven’t as much as of late, considering work and creation — but yes.” Inge grinned. “I am still there, physically! Just not mentally. You can watch over me as I scare someone in their sleep while drinking off their partner, it could be fun. Don’t beat it before you try it.” She threw up her hands. “So what? We should go together. Dress up. Show them how we do. Or I will drag you to New York and show you the undead scene there, hm?”

Art through grief was something that Cassius could relate to. He had wrote some pretty dramatic poetry when Richard had up and left him. Sure, he had gotten gnarly writer’s block back then, too, but he was able to produce some poems that he had since burned. Most of his poetry got burned when it was emotionally heavy. It was cathartic. “Your art is quite fucking good,” he remarked with a brief smile, thinking to the creations she had shown him over the years. “It’s embarrassing to admit just how long I’ve gone before finally making steps to move forward.” He spoke, shuffling his feet a bit as he thought about the past fifty years. “Time moves strangely when your life doesn’t have an expiration date,” he murmured with an unfocused gaze at nothing in particular. “Dreary is definitely a word to use.” He then spoke with a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Stranger still to watch those who weren’t meant to outlive you go before you.” He shook his head, this wasn’t a fun topic to discuss. He hoped that she would feel the same and move on.

He nodded his head with a hum as she questioned him. “Exactly that,” Cassius answered. “I can be having a full on temper tantrum or laughing at the funniest joke I’ve ever heard and he can just… turn it off,” he snapped a finger, “just like that.” He shuddered to think of what would happen if Richard ever did resort to such measures. Deep down, Cassius knew that his former lover would never do such a thing, yet he was terrified of the ‘what ifs’ that flitted around in his mind.

The idea of letting Inge help him made him feel sick with worry. “As much as I know you could hold your own, I would rather keep you out of this.” Cassius spoke, pressing a finger to his mouth as he thought of the only plan he had. “I’m meeting with a slayer.” He said vaguely, not wanting to give away more than that. “He nearly killed me,” he admitted with an apologetic smile. “And Richard was the one that saved me before he could deliver the final blow. But because of that, now Richard wants him dead.” He twirled a finger around in the air as he explained. “Because of that, and the fact that he knows he can’t take on an elder vampire alone, we’ve teamed up.” He sighed, realizing how utterly ridiculous and stupid it was that he was doing this. 

“Richard has gone into hiding again for one reason or another. I know there were some slayers after him, which led him to hiding here.” Cassius thought back to the moment his sire had showed up, as if no time had passed. How his face had turned into that of a monster. How horrified he had been to see him after so long, how he had the audacity to act like he hadn’t done anything wrong, like he deserved to still be Cassius’s life. His face had turned pensive, and he found that the more he thought about it, the more conflicted he became.

“I just want to know that I’ll be free.” He spoke, his voice hushed. “And I cannot be truly free if he’s around. But I also can’t let go of almost two-hundred years of loving someone either.” He buried his face in his hands. He had been too impulsive yet again, and now he was in a deal with a slayer that had tried to kill him. “Oh, I’m well and truly fucked, aren’t I?” He wondered aloud, eyes going to the ceiling as he thought of how rash he had been acting in the past few months. 

He was relieved when Inge began to talk about something - anything - else. A smile slowly began to creep onto his face as she spoke of her ideas. “You know, I think I would like that.” He spoke, looking over to her, nodding his head slowly. The idea of teaming up with someone to feed together, the possibilities of doing more reckless activities because they could. “And if we ever get into trouble, New York it is.” The smile had grown to a toothy grin, and he held her gaze. “I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“I’m glad I can make something from my pain, I suppose,” she said, and though she said it off-handedly she did fully mean it. Inge had made a muse out of her losses and trauma, conjured creations from that infinite source. “Art demands suffering.” It was something discussed in her department at the college, something some students wrote interesting essays on — but she would not be swayed from that opinion, no matter how many counter arguments she heard. 

She was quiet for a while, considering Cassius who was so much older than her and must have lost everyone. She still had people out there, from her human life. Two siblings, an ex-husband, a handful of nieces and nephews, even some of her former friends. She hadn’t seen any of them since Vera passed. “I’ll say.” Her mind got stuck on it, that thought of Vera, that inevitable point of return. The epicenter of her mind and memory, that she avoided and ignored but always got trapped in anyway. “I had a daughter.” It was spoken in a tone uncharacteristic for her. Quiet, reserved, with an immediate feeling of regret.

So she moved on, focusing back on a topic that laid outside of her heart, outside of her painful memory. “Well, we don’t want that to happen. Jesus.” Sanne had had an influence on her, no matter how she didn’t want to admit it, but not like that. Inge grimaced and only grimaced more at the revelation that Cassius was going to work with a slayer. “Who?” The question was sharp as a knife, demanding in its shortness. She thought of the Cortez slayer, who had not yet come to undo her head of her neck but still lingered. “He’s going to kill you afterward. You’re going to lead him to what he wants, to kill an elder, and then he’s going to kill you. What the fuck are you thinking, teaming up with a slayer?” She swallowed more venomous words. “And you know, I’m not keen on the idea of you dying.”

Inge watched him bury his head in his hands, feeling ill-equipped to deal with this kind of thing. “I want you free. But I much rather want you alive. Richard — he’s an idiot if he’s hiding here to evade slayers, surely there’s … something to be done,” she said, fiddling with a strand of hair. “You can move through the loss. That’s something to think of for after, if you’re gonna go through with it. But are you sure? That this is the only way?” 

Life and art demanded suffering, certainly, but that didn’t mean she went out of her way to find it. She wanted fun, wanted her friendships to exist in a place of laughter and light. But the air felt heavy, even at the promise of boundless fun. “Deal.”

Cassius’s face fell when Inge revealed such a precious detail of her life. So suddenly, so quietly. He didn’t know what to say, noticing how she had used past tense instead of present. She had a daughter. Living longer than a child was something no parent should have to go through. But they were immortal, forced to walk the earth long after everyone they loved had passed on. He put a hand to Inge’s, looking into her eyes. “I’m sorry.” He spoke softly, knowing that there wasn’t anything in the world that could take away that pain. “If you ever want to talk about her, I’m more than happy to listen.” He then added, giving her a soft, private smile. 

Then, she asked who. Yes, who indeed. “His name is Owen,” he explained, shuffling his feet a bit. Speaking the name of his would-be killer tasted like acid on his tongue. “He tried to kill me, and Richard saved me.” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “And now he’s teaching me how to fucking fight.” He sighed, realizing how utterly stupid the whole situation was. “And he’ll probably be the one that kills me, so.” He shrugged, as if there was nothing he could do about it.

Cassius stared at the ground for a moment, what was he thinking? He knew the answer, but he didn’t dare speak it aloud. “I…” his voice petered out, and he realized just how vulnerable he was with Inge in that moment. “I was thinking that I was tired of living.” His voice came out gravelly and weak, and he was unable to meet her eyes. A confession, one that he had kept close to his chest. One that he didn’t dare tell anyone else, not even Sofie when she was still around. “That at least, I could take out the one person who has kept me here after all this time.” He blinked, realizing how true the statement was. “Sofie left, and it’s like all the color left the world. She had taught me to truly live again.” He finally looked up at Inge, vulnerable and meek. “And in a moment of true weakness, I made a deal that I can’t get out of.” 

His gaze was watery, the emotions he refused to feel bubbling to the surface. He couldn’t let those tears fall, there was no putting them back once they did. “I don’t know if it’s the only way.” He confessed, balling his hands into tight fists. What did he say? The truth tasted like metal. “I love him.” He finally said, voice breaking. “I still love Richard, even after all this time.” The tear finally spilled free, and suddenly it was like a dam was breaking. Shit, he was weak. “And I’m terrified of what he can do to me.” He paused, then shook his head. “What I would let him do to me.” He angrily wiped away his tears, letting his gaze go back to the floor. 

Did she want to talk about her? There was so much to say. Boundless stories about Vera’s spirited ways, the way the two of them had fought, the days in Amsterdam and the ones that had come before. Her regrets and shortcomings, her failures and the goodbyes. All of them. Inge considered it, but shook her head. “Not now. But — thank you.” The focus on the evening was on Cassius it seemed, which was fine. She wasn’t good at handling other people’s issues but it was preferable over dealing with her own. 

Her face cracked, then. She let out a sound she couldn’t quite describe and if she could  have flushed red she might have. There was no way on God’s green earth, after all, that there was another slayer named Owen in this tiny town. “This is ridiculous. You’re teaming up with a slayer who’s teaching you how to fight – and so, learning your weak spots! – so you can lead him to some elder cunt and then he’s gonna kill him and you.” She wondered if she had any sway over Owen, but that entire interaction had been one of lust and no affection — and besides, she had some pride.

Her jaw set in a way it hardly ever did as Cassius spoke. She had called this a suicide mission before in a lighthearted tone but it seemed now that perhaps this was what this really was. Consciously. She swallowed, incapable of really understanding. Even if life at times could feel pointless or boring, her desire to keep living it was a driving force. In spite of grief and loss and solitude. “Why didn’t you —” She stopped her sentence halfway through, not knowing if that was helpful. But she was thinking it. Why didn’t you come to me before you did this stupid, stupid thing. “I’m sorry, Cassius. That you felt –” It had to be past tense, didn’t it? “– this desolate and desperate. That it came to that. I … understand, that our way of being alive, but not being alive in a sense can be hard. But you’re not alone in it.”

Inge had once thought she loved a man who hurt her. Separation and distance had made aware that it hadn’t been love, what she’d felt for Hendrik — that it had been lies she fed herself to stay in the comfortable position of being married to her supposed first love. Lies she’d fed herself out of fear. Cassius seemed afraid, now. Cracking at the seams. “Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that, nor make you afraid.” It seemed cliche to say, but she knew it to be true. “But I understand. Sometimes we have no choice in it. Or sometimes we think we don’t have any. I know you, though. I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know? And though we might be immortal, love isn’t. You can grow past him. You will.”

Nodding his head as she decided not to speak on it more, the vampire respected her privacy, but appreciated her speaking on it all the same. “No matter which way this ends up, one of us isn’t walking out of this alive.” Cassius spoke in a hollow tone, he knew that he was on a suicide mission, and he knew that Inge wouldn’t approve. “But it’s done, there’s no getting out of it now.” He spoke, voicing his own thoughts. 

He nodded his head slowly, that same faraway and hollow look in his eyes as she shoved his free hand into his pocket. “I know that now. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” He finally looked up at her, sincerity in his eyes. “I’m still figuring everything out, trying to figure out how it is to live outside of someone else’s shadow.” He gave a humorless laugh as he shook his head. “Rather strange, really.”

He wiped away his tears and schooled his expression, feeling silly for letting himself cry over something that was over, that was in the past. And no matter how badly he wanted to live in the shadows, he couldn’t anymore. He was allowed to be happy and with other people. It was just… strange. Different. He nodded his head as her words echoed through his head. She was right, as she often was. He didn’t say that out loud, however. “One step at a time,” he said with a slow nod of his head. “One foot in front of the other and all that.” He raised his glass towards Inge in a ‘cheers’ motion. “I’m lucky to have you as a friend, you know.” He spoke, giving her a small and almost private smile. “Thank you for your words. They’re greatly appreciated.”

“Bullshit. There’s getting out of any fucking situation.” She shook her head, didn’t understand this willingness to lay down ones life. Inge wanted nothing but more, out of life and out of herself. “Some fucking hunter, right? Tied me in his basement, surrounded me with salt so I couldn’t leave. Do you reckon I gave up and assumed I wouldn’t get out? No. And it’s because of that I’m here. You gotta fight to stay alive, you —” She swallowed the expletive. “You’ve got to. Okay. Try, at least.” 

The apology was accepted, Inge not interested in harboring grudges about that particular slight of Cassius. “I get it, you know. Trust … opening up, they’re not exactly my forte either, but I guess …” She shrugged. “It’s something we can do with each other. Let that be the take away of this entire ordeal.” She smiled. “You’re a radiant fucker, Cassius. You deserve to stand by yourself.”

She was a little unsure what to do with his tears, felt like she wasn’t helping while also being convinced of her own righteousness. It was a conflicting combination. “It’s a cliche, but it’s true,” she said, taking a ship after their quiet cheer. “I am quite a fabulous friend to have. But so are you.” Inge gestured to the bottle, wanting another glass. “I’m glad we got to talk it out, yeah? Let’s keep doing that. I reckon it’s good practice.”

Inge’s forceful tone was enough to elicit a sigh from Cassius. “You’re right, as always.” He murmured in response, rolling his eyes at himself. “I think it’s about time I had a long talk with Richard.” He said. If he wasn’t about to murder the man who made him what he was, he was going to set some damn boundaries. The very idea set him on edge, as if his veins were ice. Even still, he knew that deep down, he didn’t want Richard dead. He didn’t want to work with this damn slayer. He had made choices in a rage and now he was left to deal with the consequences.

Cassius gave a soft smile as Inge declared him radiant, that they could open up to each other. He spent so long trying to avoid how he was feeling that he let it get to him. And now Inge was still there, willing to listen. Still smiling, Cassius nodded his head. She was right. “As always, you’re right.” He then said, raising his brows in a teasing manner.  He nodded his head again as she recommended to keep talking to each other. Not letting himself get that way again did sound like a good plan. Plucking the bottle up, Cassius poured more wine into Inge’s glass. “You’re a damn good friend, Inge.” He spoke, raising his glass towards her. “I’m glad to call you that.”

#alcohol tw #suicidal ideation tw #abuse tw #There's a Light that never goes out #threads #nightmaretist #t;nightmaretist

[modernmutiny]

Catch me recovering from that fucking sledgehammer of a moon knight ep by drinking whisky out of a large tea cup with oranges on it and watching Rhys Darby's entire filmography

#moon knight spoilers #sort of? #teddy talks #starting with wrecked bc i already saw all the wwdits stuff #its like a comedic Lost and rhys breaks his legs and just sits and makes stupid funny comments every once in a while #hes wearing the stupidest fucking hat ever #and i love him #once i get bored of this ill look for his comedy stuff #or just switch to taika and watch Jojo rabbit #tho being jewish that might make me feel Worse idk i dont know much abt it #but anyways. being raised by three generations of alcoholics means that when i start having panic attacks i just get hammered #it solves the problem at least lol #long term? eh. short term? im doing fucking amazing ty #that ep fucking hit me over the back of the head with a steel chair btw #did Not expect disney to come out with such a realistic depiction of child abuse #i fucking flinched so hard i fell off my bed when she grabbed the belt #so. whisky and ice cream and checkers hot dogs #i also had to see my father not long after watching it so my mental state is Very Fragile rn #do i need therapy? yes. will i today? no #like marc i too have a broken and fractured mind lol #i just cant stop replaying that in my mind #marc sitting in his room rocking back and forth while his mom breaks down the door and he keeps repeating its not his mom #fuck thats a page taken straight out of my childhood #anyway im drinking Too Much on an empty stomach to numb that shit #🤙🏻 wish me luck

[thora-jane]

Take My Hand (Shang Chi x female!Reader)

THIS WAS AN ASK FROM @aliiiyyaaah so here you go lovely I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @aliiiyyaaah @superblyspeedydragon @bamboozledflamplant

If I left you out of the taglist lmk!

Ask:i dk what i want exactly but obviously it’s shang chi x reader😹😹 ummm just super fluffy i guess like obviously they not friends since forever but what like maybe 2-4 years ? and it could be a movie plot or just a general fluff But CAN YOU INCLUDR A PART WHERE HE HUGS HER FROM BEHIND??😹if that’s okay?

Summary: Karaoke Night takes a turn when you and Shang Chi find each other connecting on a more physical level

Word count: 1,578

Warning: Ain't nothin but some fluffy ending, you lovely little simps.

There are some rituals society doesn’t question, like school bells or religious services or even simply society itself. Among your group, Friday Night Karaoke was at the top of this list. It wasn’t just a ritual, it was a sacred ritual. Sure, it was never said aloud, but no matter what was going on around 8 o’clock on any given Friday evening, you all seemed to have one thing on your mind.

“You think you got it! Oh! You think you got it!” Katy was singing at the top of her lungs, jumping up and down to ‘Hey Ya’ before downing another shot with Shang-Chi.

Shang-Chi you repeated in your head. After being informed of what happened the month before, you were making an effort to call him by his actual name. Honestly, it was getting impossible to not think about him constantly. Yeah, he was your friend. But friendship didn’t stop you from hopelessly falling for him for the past...three years? God, you were hopelessly in love with this man. Whether or not he could save the world made no difference to you, it made no difference that you had watched him summon a dragon or take on assassins or defeat a massive soul-sucking monster, he had always been the same man you had fallen in love with. You swear, you would do anything for this man.

Apparently, in this moment, it meant getting up on the tiny stage next to Katy.

“C’moooon! It’ll be great!” He said with a lopsided smile as he elbowed you.

“Already? Shang Chi I think it’s your turn-”

“I’ll go next just go!” he assured, ruffling your hair.

“And like, I’ll take the rap parts so you barely have to do anything,” Katy added, grabbing your hand and pulling you out from under his touch. Before the music started you thought you heard her whisper “besides, you probably have someone in mind for this song anyway.”

You weren’t sure whether to smile or groan when the song started, but you held the mic up to your mouth and started singing anyway.

“Whatta man whatta man whatta man whatta mighty good man.” It didn’t take you long to start half-dancing with Katy as she started rapping, adding your ‘ooh’s in a little off-beat. It was when you looked up and saw Shang Chi that your heart melted again. There he was, standing over to the side, swaying and waving his arms shamelessly to hype you two up. The music was loud, but you could tell he was singing along with you at maximum volume.

After a few minutes, the song came to a close, and you and Katy stepped off stage, but not before you handed your mic over to Shang Chi, “Knock’em dead, bus boy,” you said with a smile as he took the mic in his hand. You weren’t, however, expecting him to wrap his arms around your waist, gently pulling your back to his chest as he chuckled.

“With pleasure.”

You sat back down on the couch, heart pounding and head not fully understanding what went down. You felt his breath on your neck and could feel the warmth through his shirt.

That just happened.

He took his place on the stage, you and Katy sitting on the beaten old couch that probably had at least a dozen drinks spilled on it at some point, and waited for him to start singing.

You were expecting some corny 90’s song, as that was the apparent theme of the night. Something you and Katy could scream along with from the couch, something light and funny. But from the speakers came a soft piano instrumental and your breath hitched as he began to sing.

“Wise men say, only fools rush in.” You couldn’t recall if you’d ever heard him sing seriously before. Up until that moment, it had always been casual singing filled with giggles and funny faces. But his face seemed to soften and his voice felt rich and deep, “But I can’t help falling in love with you.”

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes, some things are meant to be,” Heat crept up on your face, leaning forward slightly on the couch and straightening your posture. You were positively captivated by his voice, ignoring Katy’s chuckle and jabbing from her elbow.

“Take my hand. Take my whole life too,” he began to step forward slowly, past the speaker, off the stage, over to the couch.

Right in front of you, he got down on his knee and took your hand in his, his voice shaking with vibrato, or maybe even nerves “For I can’t help falling in love with you.” As the song ended, your heart froze and you watched as he gently raised your hand to his lips.

A moment passed between you, Shang Chi turned red and chuckled as he got up again, bringing the mic back up to the stage. Katy stood up, all wild applause and wolf whistles, but you remained seated, hand frozen where he left it in your lap. While Katy clapped him on the back and he shrugged off her compliments on his singing, it occurred to you that it may have been nothing more than a performance. You felt something in your heart tense up, and your stomach churned as you realized Shang Chi wasn’t looking back at you at all. It probably was just a little gag at the moment, but that didn’t mean it didn’t mean the world to you.

You looked down at where he had kissed your hand, not finding it within yourself to get up from the couch. It was then that you felt the cushion dip beside you and the brush of an arm draping against the back of the couch.

“Hey uh...We were gonna head out. Katy said I might have gotten her too strong a drink- I mean she was drinking on an empty stomach or-”

“We all got pizza right before this though?” you interrupted, still looking down at your hands with purpose.

“Oh well my metabolism,” Katy began, plopping down at your other side, “Lightening fast. It’s unbelievable. Food just goes zooming and then alcohol just sits there. It’s crazy.” She reasoned with confidence that you thought felt a little over-preformed.

“Right, we were gonna head out, and like...I could walk you home?” Shang Chi asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

You took his hand, but only briefly, not wanting to get your hopes up again.

Katy had made it home, and you and Shang Chi walked the quieter late-night streets of San Fransisco. A gentle breeze began to blow, and you felt a shiver creep in your shoulders through your tshirt, “Oh here let me-” Shang Chi began, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders, hesitantly keeping his arms wrapped around you.

You spoke softly, not shying from his touch but still unable to look him in the face, “Shang Chi, you’re the truest gentleman I’ve ever met,” You smiled, and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, briefly tucking his chin in the crook of your neck.

“I just don’t want you to catch a chill,” he reassured, rubbing your arms.

“What’s got you acting like this?” You asked voice laced with genuine curiosity as you finally looked at him, suddenly aware of the proximity your faces had.

“Well…” he began, eyes locked with yours purposefully, “I just figure that...well at karaoke…(y/n) I’ve been meaning to say for a while that…” He continued to interrupt himself and trail on for nearly a minute before saying a complete phrase, “You didn’t take your hand from me.”

“No,” you blinked, “No, I didn’t,”

“Why not?” he asked, his eyes soft and searching.

“Because I liked it where it was,” you whispered.

“You did?” his eyes lit up with something, but you couldn’t quite tell what. Gently, he took your face in his hands, “Do you...do you like your face where it is?”

Your gulped, fairly certain that he could hear your heart pounding, “Yes.”

His eyes flickered to your lips, and oh-so-gently, he leaned down and closed the gap between the two of you.

You felt the prickle of his stubble under your nose. His breath smelled lightly of alcohol and his hands were intoxicating as he gently ran his fingertip under your ear back and forth. Your hands carefully found the hairline of his neck, entwining your fingertips in his hair and melting at the gentle sigh he breathed to your lips.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes still closed, “Did you..like where your face was at?”

You brought his face to yours again, softly planting your lips on his. This time his hands carefully moved down to your waist and rested on the small of your back, pulling you closer and hugging you tight when your lips broke off again.

“(y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you...feel the way I feel? Like am I crazy or is this actually happening?” He asked, and you could practically hear the nervous smile on his face.

“I mean personally I was hoping this was real,” you smiled, letting out a chuckle for the first time in a while that evening.

“It is real,” he assured the two of you, “I know it is.”

“If you say so, handsome,” You smiled.

“Oh, I say so.”

#shang chi fluff #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi x you #shang chi and the ten rings #shang chi #shang chi x y/n #shang chi oneshot #shang chi imagines #shang chi x reader #shang chi imagine #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel fic

[mypoisonedvine]

The Wrong Idea | Lee Bodecker x reader

summary: you weren’t exactly a rebel in the eyes of the law, but that didn’t mean you cared for the corrupt, alcoholic town sheriff.  and that certainly didn’t mean you would care at all for him marrying your mother.  if only you’d known how much worse it could get...

word count: 4.5k

warnings: smut!! (heavy dubcon/noncon), age gap (reader is 19), stepcest, loss of virginity, pain kink, creampie kink, infidelity, degradation, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, choking, slapping, daddy kink, authority kink, subtle ddlg themes?, reader’s mom being toxic af

You’d never cared for the Sheriff.  Even you, being generally a well-behaved young woman, thought he was a little too intense and a little too corrupt.  Up until now, you’d assumed your mother agreed with you on that, because she never protested to your complaints about Sheriff Bodecker and his ‘fascist reign of terror’ as you called it.  Apparently that was a poor assumption, though.

“You… what?!”

“I never told you we were seein’ each other because I knew you had your childish rebellion against him and his police force,” your mother explained with a demeaning eyeroll.  “But now that we’re engaged, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“How long has this been going on?” you asked quietly, still in shock at what you were hearing— and unable to take your eyes off of the sparkling diamond wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, I’d say… about two months now,” she decided.

“Two—” you stopped and started over, so bewildered that you couldn’t finish your original sentence.  “You’re engaged after two months?”

“Don’t make that face at me, you look so ugly when you scowl like that,” she frowned.  Of course, she could never miss an opportunity to nag you.  “He’s a respectable man, and he treats me well.  The wedding is in three weeks— and he’s generous enough to let you live with us after that.  Says there’s a spare bedroom for you in his house.”

“His… his house…” you slurred, suddenly feeling light-headed.  “I’m… we’re moving…?”

“Yes, honey, and with your work ethic it’ll take you the whole three weeks to pack up, so you should start now,” she informed you with that cruel, fake smile of hers.

She walked away as you sat down on the couch, staring off into space, trying to comprehend what you just heard.  It’s not like you thought your mother was flawless or anything, or that you and her had a perfect relationship, but you thought she would’ve been a little more… gentle about all this.  She could do better than him anyways!  But she didn’t care about that, only money and status.  You could almost laugh at her small-mindedness to think the Sheriff of a nothing-town like Knockemstiff was actually plentiful in either of those things, but right now you couldn’t laugh.  You couldn’t even cry as you packed your things and said goodbye to the home you’d known your whole life.  You were just numb.

//

You couldn’t look him in the eye when you arrived at his house, duffel bags in hand and shoes stained with the dry red dirt of summer.  It was nicer than your old place, and if it were anyone else’s you’d say it had charm, but everything was tainted because you knew it was his.  You could sort of tell that this had been his bachelor pad for a while, but it had a half-assed attempt at hominess with the rug in the living room and a centerpiece on the kitchen table.  He even had a TV, presumably funded by bribes and all his other nefarious dealings— meaning you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to watch it.

“Nice to meet ya, properly,” Lee greeted, though his monotone didn’t come across as particularly impassioned.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” you mumbled quickly, hoping to get this conversation over with.

“You don’t have to call me Sheriff anymore, you know.  Not in the house, at least.”

You nodded but said nothing, following him as he motioned for you and moved into the hallway.  You trailed behind him, noticing the eerie lack of any personal effects on the walls (no family photos, apparently, and not much of a family to photograph in the first place from what you’d heard), and stopped when he reached the door at the end.

“This is your room,” Lee informed you stiffly.  Opening the door, you were horrified by the assault on your eyes of pink.  Pink everything: pink wallpaper, a pink fuzzy quilt, pink bedframe.  There were even assorted stuffed animals on the bed, disturbingly enough.

“When my mother told you she had a daughter, did she not mention that I was grown?”

“You may be nineteen, honey, but you’re nowhere near grown,” he scowled.  “She didn’t tell me she had a daughter until two days before the weddin’.  This is what I managed to... improvise, since then.”

You almost had sympathy for him, just in that you two were both victims of your mother’s eccentricity.  Almost.  

“Must’ve inherited your expensive taste from your ma,” he frowned.  “Sorry, princess—” the nickname made his lips curl like the word itself tasted sour— “but this’ll have to do.”

“Oh, I’m nothing like her,” you sneered back, “cause I wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole.”

“What are you two chatting about?” your mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

Both of you answered at the same time: “Nothing!” 

With a grimace, you dragged your bag into the room and shut the door in his face.  It was those little acts of rebellion that had to tide you over.  You weren’t audacious enough to do anything actually cruel, or illegal, but you weren’t going to make this any easier for him.

At first it was just refusing to leave your room.  That worked for a week, until you realized you were going to starve to death.  So then the only times you saw him were at the dinner table, which you made into a protest by pretending he didn’t exist and refusing to answer his questions.  You occasionally relented when he asked you to pass something from your side of the table, but you never looked at him while you did it.  

He didn’t seem angry or sad about your determination to avoid him, if anything it seemed like he was happy to pretend you weren’t there either.  And that should’ve made it easier, but for some reason it bothered you even more.  You realized that maybe his attention did matter to you, even though it was negative attention that you were hoping to inspire, but you knew that was ridiculous and you tried to fight it.  Still, for all your plans to never see him, you sure did think about him a lot.  You thought about where he might be, so you could be somewhere else.  You thought about what he must be doing at work, and how he was probably continuing to be a nasty mean drunk as frequently as possible.  You wondered if he and your mother were making love just across the house, although you were lucky enough to never hear anything.  Just knowing that could be happening made you feel sick, even though you realized it was none of your business.  

You sometimes found yourself listening for it at night, just in case.

//

Your mother had decided to spend her new husband’s money on a trip, but the man himself couldn’t tag along— too much work to do, apparently.  The prospect of being left alone with him was nightmare fuel, but you didn’t even try to ask her to stay… you knew she wouldn’t listen.  She’d been totally absorbed in her own world since the wedding, seeming to be very fulfilled by the social role of ‘Sheriff’s wife’ to the point that she had lost all interest in her former position as ‘your mom’.  

There was a balance to the silence with her gone, though.  You avoided him, he avoided you; it was a tense truce, but a survivable one.  At least without her, nobody was going to try to make you two get along.  Friday night was different, though.  This time when he came home from work, you knew you were stuck with him until Monday morning.  That thought made you realize that you needed to get out and you didn’t care if you weren’t dressed for it.  It was hot, and it was just a walk so nobody was going to see you in this miniskirt anyway, right?

Too bad Lee was sitting on the couch, still in his uniform, not giving you any mind but likely to harass you before you could make it outside.  You figured if you just walked casually enough, he wouldn’t even notice, so you made your way towards the door.

“You’re not going out like that,” he announced suddenly, seemingly without even looking up from his newspaper.

“Says who?” you deflected quickly with a raised brow.  It wasn’t that you wanted to pick a fight, but you just couldn’t understand why he would even care what you were wearing.

“Says the guy who doesn’t want you to give all the neighborhood boys the wrong idea.”

“What idea?!” you asked, crossing your arms.  He shot you a look, quickly raking in your body and outfit which made you feel more observed than you cared for.

“The idea that you’re a slut,” he explained coldly.

You gulped at his words but tried to keep a poker face.  You didn’t let it get this far just to give up.  You were so sick of his shit; what made him think he could boss you around when he’d never even tried to get to know you?

“What makes you assume that’s the wrong idea?” you shot back, fighting the nervousness in your voice.

You hadn’t expected him to stand up instantly, the coffee table wobbling a bit when his knee bumped into it.

“The fuck did you say?” he hissed.

With his teeth bared at you he looked like a predator, and you felt like small, helpless prey.  You tried to muster some of your former confidence, but everything came out shaky and weak.  “I— I said that maybe it’s not the wrong ide—”

He pounced, crossing the room and slamming you back against the wall, a hand at each shoulder; you instantly cowered, shrinking back and turning your face away from him as far as you could.  You never thought he’d put his hands on you like this.  Your heart was pounding so loudly that you were surprised you could hear his hoarse whisper.

“Watch your tone with me.  I’m not kidding around.”

“I’m an adult,” you weakly fought back, “I can do what I want.”

“Not in my fuckin’ house you can’t!” he bellowed.

For some reason, it all hit you at once.  All the emotions you’d been suppressing since your mother had gotten engaged— all the anger and fear and betrayal and indignation, they came bubbling up before you could stop them.  

“I don’t even want to be in your ugly fucking house!” you cried in response.  “I don’t wanna be anywhere near you!  You’re a fascist and a tyrant and a pig!”

You expected him to get more aggressive but he suddenly stilled.  It was the scariest anger, that outwardly-calm type that made your blood go cold.

“Go to your room.”

You didn’t question it, turning to walk away (any excuse to get away from him, right?), but you didn’t expect him to follow you in and shut the door behind the both of you.

You were paralyzed with fear as he stepped past you and sat on your bed.  It was sort of strange as you realized you’d never seen him in your room before.  He stood out against the somewhat childish decorations, but you were in no mood to appreciate the humor of the situation as he patted his knee.

“Lay across my lap.  Don’t make me tell you twice.”

He couldn’t possibly be doing what I think he’s doing, could he? you wondered to yourself, but did as he asked.  You realized you’d never been so close to him before, the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes.  He smelled like cologne and booze, although you didn’t think he’d actually had much to drink yet today— at least compared to his normal habits.  It was almost worse to think that he wasn’t acting on drunkenness now.

“It’s prob’ly too late for it, but you are in serious need of discipline, young lady.”

You had no idea what he was talking about, but your body reacted to it differently than you expected.

His fingers slipped between the top of your skirt and your skin, having to pull pretty hard to get it down due to how tight it was.  You bit your lip and hoped he wouldn’t notice your arousal, but as your pussy was exposed, you could feel the breeze from the ceiling fan and you knew you were undeniably wet.  You didn’t know why, but you were.

“Count them for me,” he instructed coldly and before you could ask what you were counting, he brought his hand down firmly.  You felt his wedding ring in the slap and it made you feel a little sick.

“O-one,” you stammered.

He delivered four more, alternating cheeks, and you tried not to react with visible pain.  But as the intensity increased, you realized that not reacting might’ve actually been making it worse.  Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from crying out when the eighth made your whole body lurch forward from the force.

“Eight!” you squealed, but both of you noticed the way you pushed your hips forward.  Unintentional as it may have been, you were trying to rub yourself on his thigh, desperate to be touched where it felt like all the energy of your body had focused.  You were sure you’d never been so horny before, and now your clit was nearly throbbing.  What the fuck is wrong with me?!

He quickly delivered the final two slaps before grabbing your neck, hoisting you up until you were on your knees before him.  He examined your face closely and you tried to keep your lip from shaking.

“You’re worse than I thought,” he hissed.  “You are in dire need of a punishment.  You should thank me for going so easy on you so far.”

You realized when his grip on your jaw tightened that he was being literal.  “Thank you, for going easy on me…”

“Where’d that fire go, huh?  Guess you’re all talk,” he laughed.  

He roughly shoved his fingers into your mouth, moaning lowly as your tongue rubbed against the pads of his fingers.  “This fuckin’ mouth.  You just don’t know when to keep it shut, do you?  Come on baby, open up.  I’ve got a better use for it than your fuckin’ disrespectful attitude.”

He used his free hand to work on his belt right in front of your face, and your eyes went wide.

“Don’t act so surprised sweetheart,” he said with a hint of irritation, “this is exactly what you’re asking for.”

You gasped a bit when his cock was freed from his trousers, springing up and already red at the tip.  You’d never seen one this close before and it was intimidating in every way.

“Like what you see?  You’re so wet for it,” he purred.  You tried to speak but words abandoned you. 

It was all a blur as he held your mouth open and shoved his cock inside— it tasted like skin and salt, and the size made your chapped lips crack until you worried they would bleed.  His moans were deep and gravelly, making your skin break out into goosebumps as he pumped smoothly into your pliant mouth.  He slapped your face a few times, not quite hard but plenty strong enough to make it sting.  You winced with each impact, the tears which had welled from your gagging finally falling down and dripping from your chin.

“Suck on it, princess, like a popsicle… fuck yeah, like that,” he groaned, and your mind resisted obeying him but your body was completely at his mercy.  “Aw baby, ya look so good chokin’ on my cock.  Is that what you were gonna go do in this slutty little outfit you’ve got on?”

You tried to shake your head but he was holding you down, not even giving you a chance to breathe.  His protruding stomach rubbed against your forehead when his cock was this deep in your throat, and the disgust and fear somehow made your arousal stronger.

He let you go, finally, and you pulled back with a gasp and a cough.  You weren’t given much reprieve, though, as he started to tug at your blouse as well.

“No, wait,” you whimpered, weakly trying to bat his hands away.

“Wait?  I think I’ve been waiting long enough,” he growled.  “Your ma’s a fuckin’ tease, hasn’t touched me since I got her that ugly fuckin’ ring.  Let’s hope you learn from her mistakes.”

Your blouse was torn open and tossed aside, leaving you only in the pulled-up skirt and your bra.  Reaching up to cover yourself, you were discouraged by the shockingly-gentle brush of his hands. 

“Don’t cover yourself, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured.  His gaze made you feel hot all over, and it wasn’t just because of the summer weather outside.  “Nobody ever looked at ya before?”

You shook your head, looking down at the floor.  A finger under your chin guided you to look up at him.  

“Nobody ever touched ya before?” he pressed, his stare boring into you.  You shook your head again.  “Fuck,” he whispered, but then he started to smile proudly.  “Knew you were a good girl, princess, you just didn’t wanna act like one for some reason.  You gonna be good for me now?” 

You nodded weakly, swallowing as you tried to comprehend what was happening.  

“Then I’ll be good to you, too,” he promised darkly, a shimmer in his eyes that made you throb between your thighs.  “Come get on the bed, pretty girl.”

You almost resisted, but it was your need driving you now, not your mind.  You had been waiting too long to let a boy touch you, and now that a man had touched you, you felt all kinds of wrong and yet craved more.  Before you had even finished sitting down beside him, he was slipping off your bra and pushing you back onto the quilt.

“Sheriff!” you yelped instinctively, a little disoriented as he started to climb on top of you.

He chuckled, clearly amused by your unexpected appeal to authority.  “Wanna know a secret, sweetheart?  Wanna know the real reason I said you didn’t have to call me that anymore?”  He leaned down, his breath hot and moist against your neck when he spoke: “Because it made me so fuckin’ hard when you said it.”

He pressed his cock, still wet with your spit, against your thigh; maybe just for emphasis, a reminder that he was still hard and wasn’t anywhere near done with you.

“What are you gonna do to me…?” you asked weakly, your voice so wavering and broken that you cringed just hearing it.  

“Just gonna make you feel good, princess,” he smiled, and before you could ask what that would entail, he was groping your tits in his large, calloused hands.  A low groan echoed in his chest, and you tried not to squirm as he teased your nipples between his fingers.  They were already hardening from the moment he’d touched you, but somehow it was getting even worse when he played with them, watching your face and surely seeing the shame you wore there.

His hands trailed lower, rubbing your waist, your thighs… you found yourself anticipating that he’d remove your panties, so much so that when he did, you quickly lifted your hips to help him slide them off.  You couldn’t believe how easily you were letting him do this to you.

“I can tell how much you want it,” he taunted lowly as the fabric slid down your legs and was tossed to the floor.  “I can smell how much you want it.”  He growled a little before diving in, licking a thick stripe through your folds and taking a moment right at the end to tickle your clit with his tongue.  “So fuckin’ sweet, princess; I knew you would be,” he praised.  You were forced to wonder how long he’d been thinking about this.

The noises were beyond obscene and you felt your face burning— but there was a burning in your gut, too, and shooting down your legs.  You’d never felt like this before (being a very good girl who never even touched herself), but you knew that if he didn’t stop, you would come.  And you really, really wanted to come.

Everytime he put pressure on your clit, your leg quivered involuntarily.  It was nearly too much, the sensation so powerful it almost hurt, but he pushed you right to the edge without knocking you off.

“Please,” you found yourself begging before you could stop it, “please, Sheriff—”

“I’m not your Sheriff anymore, sweetheart,” he informed you gruffly, popping up from between your legs with the entire bottom half of his face covered in your arousal, “I’m your daddy now.  Go on and beg your daddy to fuck you.”

Eyes shot wide open, you stared back at him in bewilderment.  Rage flashed in his eyes, and he snarled as his hand suddenly wrapped around your neck, tightening and choking you. 

“You heard me,” he groaned through his teeth.  “Beg me.  To fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you stammered, hoarsely fighting to speak through the pressure on your throat, “fuck me, please.”

He slammed his cock into you and you nearly screamed.  It burned and you instinctively tried to crawl away but, of course, his weight on top of you made it impossible.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned.  He laid down on top of you entirely then, slipping his arms under your torso and holding you tightly.

Each thrust made you feel like you had reached your limits, as if you couldn’t be stretched further which was probably true.  And yet, in spite of it (or worse, because of it), you found yourself moaning and writhing under him, even arching your back to make his movements smoother.  He laughed a little as he bit at the shell of your ear.

“You love it, baby,” he moaned, “you love my cock.”

You couldn’t respond, just sob as you clutched at the shirt still on his back, your jaw tight as you tried to bear the pain.  

“It’s not always gonna hurt like this,” he promised between heavy breaths, “s’gonna feel good soon.  Gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, pretty girl.”

Truthfully, you weren’t sure if that meant that this would happen again or not.  At the moment, you were incapable of thinking that far ahead, too focused on the way the sting of the stretch was melting away and morphing into such powerful pleasure that you couldn’t even see straight.

He kissed you, and only then did the weight of it hit you.  Who he was, what he was doing, what you were doing… it had been distant and vague before, but something about his tongue inside your mouth made you remember that the metal digging into your back was his ring; that the lips on yours were sworn to somebody else— and at that, the one exact person that made this so fundamentally wrong.

Tears welled in your eyes, gentle sobs shaking your chest.

“Don’t cry, baby,” he whispered, pulling back and kissing your tears away, “feels good, don’t it?  Feels good when daddy fucks you?”

You knew speaking would only make you cry more, so you only nodded your head shamefully.

“That’s my good girl,” he moaned as he fucked you deeper, harder, rougher.  Your fingers held onto the back of his neck, running through his hair and pulling him closer.  He kept mumbling praises but they fell on deaf ears, pleasure clouding your mind and making every hair on your body stand upright.  He didn’t stop as he reached down between your bodies and laid his hand over your stomach, growling with satisfaction at what he found there.

“I can feel me inside ya,” he grinned.  “Feel that, sweetheart?  Feel how deep I am in your wet little cunt?”

When you didn’t answer, you got a quick slap to the face.  “Yes,” you replied quickly, “yes, I— I feel it.”

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting you there until you nearly screamed.  You couldn’t figure out why something so objectively painful only pushed you closer to your peak, making every spot inside you more sensitive, but somehow it did.

“Gonna come, pretty girl?  Want daddy to fill you up?” he groaned against your ear, pushing down on your stomach even harder.

“Yes, daddy!” you sobbed.  “Please!”

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me,” he hissed, “don’t fuckin’ stop.  Keep milkin’ my cock and m’gonna fill ya up so good, princess…”

You couldn’t stop even if you tried— your orgasm hit you in powerful waves, your head falling back as your walls clenched involuntarily (as did your fingers and toes, so hard that your nail tore the sheets a little bit, which you wouldn’t notice until the next day).  He grunted as he came, pumping into you with each thrust until you felt more full than you ever had before, in a way you could never describe.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, him catching his breath and you losing yours as his weight threatened to crush you.  “Fuck,” he groaned as he sat up and pulled out.  He grabbed your legs and held them up for you, staring at your abused pussy and making you feel uncomfortably observed.

“Push it out for me, wanna see my come leak outta ya,” he purred, moaning a little when you did as he asked.  It felt even hotter as it gushed out of you, and you mindlessly bit your lip.  He tucked his softening cock back into his trousers, rezipping them and buckling his belt.  “We’d better get ya cleaned up, huh princess?” 

The bathroom wasn’t far, so he carried you, setting you down to stand on your own as he started to draw a bath.  You watched him, although you weren’t really watching him so much as staring into the void of space that happened to be in his general direction.  You were so out of it that you didn’t even register when he turned around and smiled at you with an air of pride.

“You look so good like this.”  

It pulled you out of your trance, though you had to ask him to repeat himself with a mumbled “huh?”

“I said you look good like this,” he explained, stepping closer.  “Fucked out, braindead, just my empty-headed fucktoy.”

“I… I don’t…” you began to disagree.

He used your jaw to turn your face to the mirror, and you gasped when you saw yourself: your hair was a mess; your whole face was red, especially your eyes and nose from crying, but plenty on your cheeks where he’d slapped you; your lips were swollen and slick; bruises were already forming on your arms where he’d grabbed you, and along your neck and shoulders where he had bitten you.

His form dwarfed yours as he stood behind you, looking at your reflection with a smile.

“Look at us,” he announced wistfully, “one big happy family, huh?”

#lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #dark fic

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

a/n: this took a while asdfghjkl this was in my drafts since oct. at 7k already (but got distracted with other WIPs as always) and was suggested by this anon back in aug. so i’m sorry this took a so long hun. also, the gif took a fucking while too ‘cause we are extra in this house haha (i mean, i wanted the time in the vid to match the wc so ha). anyway, enough babbling and let’s get into the video! lol, i hope you guys enjoy this one!

summary: You and Tom do a couples Q&A where you spilled steamy secrets with the help from alcohol. pairing: tom holland x fem!reader warnings: dialogue bonanza (lots of laughing and asking), alcohol consumption, secret spilling (from both parties), teasing from everyone (will include dirty jokes from the lads), mentions of smut & risque aka sex-themed questions. word count: 14.2k+ (aha enjoy!)

☰ youtube channel | previous video << ǁ >> next video ☰ masterlist on bio & pinned post

⚠ DISCLAIMER: this is a multi-part (not a series) which is basically one-shots happening in the same universe meaning you don’t need to read the previous one to understand this one since they are not heavily connected plot wise. although each fic does happen chronologically, you don’t need to read them in order much like how you don’t need to watch youtube videos in order.

-:-:-:-:-

You knew something was about to happen the moment you walked into the dining area, the way Tom immediately went to latch onto you like a koala bear—as if he hasn't seen you just minutes before—tells all.

"What are you up to now?" you asked with a playful scrunch of your nose.

You rested your hands on his shoulders, the fabric of his pink hoodie—while you wore his other pink hoodie, outfits not at all planned since you just took the first thing you saw in his closet—soft to the touch as you took a glance at the camera that was set up at the head of the dining table. The greenery of the outside world behind the glass doors served as a backdrop to the shot.

The crease between your brows deepened at the sight, gaze landing back on the boy attached to your hip who was hugging you sideways with a certain glow in his eyes.

"I'm not up to anything," Tom denied, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck to litter the skin with sweet and soft kisses. Although the gesture made your heart melt, it also made your suspicion grow. You just know there was more to this than meets the eye.

Strong arms staying around your torso, Tom pulled away slightly so he could meet your gaze again, a certain smile growing on his lips, one you know too well. It was the usual smile he wears whenever he wants something from you, a favor perhaps. An all too powerful grin that had you made him get away with things—mostly stupid ones—easily that you aren't exactly proud to admit.

"Tom," you warned with a raise of a brow, enough seriousness and command in your tone that he was quick to give in.

"Okay, okay, we're shooting the next video," he chuckled, tracing your jaw with the tip of his nose before giving it a soft peck. "Which I am hoping you'll do with me still," he murmured, placing another kiss on your cheek before pulling away to look at you fully as he flashed you a not-so-innocent smile.

Bingo.

Tom just doesn't suddenly become so clingy—well, he normally is but more than usual anyway—especially out of nowhere without it having an underlying reason.

You narrowed your eyes at him skeptically. You stayed silent as you weighed your odds, if the enjoyment of making the video was worth it for you to endure the obvious embarrassment that would come with it. You do love this YouTube thing he's got going on, you truly do enjoy being a part of it. But with the things he's spilled in the last video, you just want to make sure that this time won't be too much, though you highly doubt it.

It was hilarious how his bottom lip started to go at your reaction, eyes turning rounder, cuter that would give Puss in Boots a run for his money. And just as you counted in your head, three, two, one—

"Please, darling? Do it with me?" Tom cooed, placing his head on your shoulder as he gave your waist a loving squeeze, fluttering his eyelashes at you in the most adorable of ways with that cute pout to match. It was his signature look whenever he wanted something, the look of handsome and adorable persuasion. "I'll keep the secret-spilling at a minimum, love. And besides, we can always edit it out."

You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head at the fact that you're saying yes either way. You can never say no whenever he puts on that very persuasive face of his, can never resist him even if you tried. And of course, Tom knows this power he has over you, and he's mastered a way on how and when to use it to his advantage.

You aren't exactly proud to say that he has never failed once, his tactic very effective and that's putting it lightly. It's sneaky and annoying sometimes but it's still cute nonetheless.

Though, never did he once abuse this weakness of yours, only using it with the little things—like letting him sneak in some snacks on set when he was instructed not to or when he wants to do certain stuff—because when it's something serious and you say 'no,' then he's quick to listen and settle when you've made your final decision. He knows you only have the best intentions when it comes to his safety and just him in general, so there's really no doubt on Tom's behalf when it comes to following you on that.

"Why me? Why not give the other boys a chance to be in the spotlight?" you proposed, not giving him the satisfaction of winning just yet.

Tom shrugged with a wide smile. "The fans love you," he hummed.

The reception of the last video was mostly positive. Maybe it was the fact that you've been with Tom for a couple years already.

Your relationship was private of course, but it wasn't a secret. It was relatively the both of you showing glimpses of it every now and then online. So, compared to when the news first broke out, this time was a bit calmer. There are still trolls and haters—they're always going to be there unfortunately—but you've learned to shut them out, turning your focus more on the ones who are very positive and supportive. They should be the only ones who should be given attention to, no point wasting your energy on random keyboard warriors.

"You mean they love it when I make fun of you?" you said, laughter escaping your lips soon after when Tom buried his face back on the crook of your neck as he groaned in dismay.

Let's just say his fans quite enjoyed how you handled him in the last video, the teasing, the banter, the whole lot. Tom hasn't been able to escape the countless clips that are circulating the good old internet. No matter which platform he uses, a clip or meme is always there to haunt him. Most of them vary from him screaming and wriggling in pain; laughing like a hyena while also wriggling in pain; the random facial expressions he's made; and even sometimes, a snapshot of you looking at him in great disappointment and/or embarrassment. That's just some among the plethora of other memes.

Tom had seen it coming of course, but it doesn't mean it's any less embarrassing, especially with how clueless he seemed when it came to women.

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

"Okay then, might as well give them more content," you teased, Tom pulling away again to gawk at you with a look of feign betrayal crossing his features. You could only laugh at that, giving his jutted out lip a kiss to replace it with one of his many sweet smiles. Despite you saying it in a joking manner, he can't really deny that that would happen either way. After all, no matter what he does, he will always be a walking meme.

Tom finally lets you go after one more peck on the cheek, guiding you towards the seat by the other end of the table soon after. He helped you in like the gentleman that he is, a kiss landing on top of your head once you were seated before he made his way towards his place.

"What are we doing this time?" you asked when Tom sat down on the chair across from you.

And as if on cue, Harry walked into the dining area with two bottles of gin on hand, Harrison following suit with a bowl of half-sliced limes along with Tuwaine with a bucket of ice and two Collins glasses.

"Truth or drink," Harry said with a wide grin, lifting the bottles of Aviation gin to further prove his point.

"You guys chose me to do this with him because I'm a lightweight, which means I'm more likely to talk, didn't you?" you said, narrowing your eyes at each of them as they placed their respective items right in front of you in the middle of the table.

All three boys gasped exaggeratedly at your accusation, shaking their heads as they made their way behind the camera, chorusing a bunched of:

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

You could only roll your eyes at them, playfully of course, turning back to Tom who was quick to throw his hands up in surrender once he took in your expression of pure suspicion.

"I swear, I just want to do this with you, plain and simple," he confessed, though his follow up sentence made you think that it wasn't as plain and simple. "But you are very funny when you have alcohol in your system."

"Does that mean I'm not when sober?" You raised your brow at the man across you, sitting straight up as you clasp your hands together, resting it on the table to seem serious.

Tom shook his head frantically. "No! You're still very funny sober!" he rushed. "Love, you know what I meant," he added with a whine, head dropping low once you let out a laugh, only lifting it back up to shoot you another pout. He can be quite gullible sometimes and you honestly love it, love teasing him about.

"Besides, it's a couples Q&A and the only couple here are you two so there aren't really any options. The only difference is that it has alcohol to spice things up a little," Harry said, now in his place behind the camera just like before.

"With equally spicy questions," Harrison added with a wriggle of his brows, coming back up on the head of the table to place a stack of white cards to which you assumed was where the questions were written.

"You guys wrote the questions didn't you? Okay, this is a set up," you joked.

"They're harmless questions I swear!" Harrison defended with a laugh before returning back to his place by the camera. Though knowing them for as long as you have, you've learned to never trust those words fully. It was highly expected that the questions aren't going to be simple, let alone safe for work.

"But if you're not comfortable doing it, it's totally fine, darling," Tom said, smiling sweetly as he grabbed your hands across the table and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He knows you have never been an avid drinker. As you've said, you are lightweight. So, if ever you wanted to back out, he's just making sure you know that you have the option to.

"No, I'm fine with it. This will be fun," you said, flashing him a true, reassuring smile of your own, squeezing his hand in return for good measure. "But can I at least have some juice or something? I'm not drinking gin straight," you added.

"Figured you'd say that," Tom said with a wide grin, rushing up from his seat and disappearing into the kitchen. He came back not long after with a bottle of orange juice on one hand all while holding a spoon and paring knife on the other. "Rollin' down the street, smokin' indo, sippin' on gin and juice," he sang the good old Snoop Dogg classic no matter how corny, placing the bottle juice right beside the gin on the head of the table.

You narrowed your eyes at your man. "You seem prepared Tom."

"Nope, I just know you too well," he hummed, giving you a sweet peck on the forehead before he was back on his seat across you.

"Right, let's give the people what they want," you said, rubbing your hands together with a wide smile.

It was Tom's turn to look at you skeptically. "Why do I have a feeling that we'll just take turns in exposing each other?"

You tilted your head at him with a grin, shrugging your shoulders and said,

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

"What's up guys! Tom Holland here," he introduced with a loud clap. "I'm back with another video joined by none other than the gorgeous Y/N." You waved at the camera with a sweet smile at the mention of your name. "The rest of the gang are behind the camera as per usual," Tom added, the lads cheering at their cue unenthusiastically and totally not in sync, chuckles and giggles following soon after.

"You can feel the excitement in the room," Tom said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. "Anyhow, since lovely Ryan Reynolds sent me a case of gin just recently, I thought; why not put it to good use?" Tom shot the camera a knowing look. "Hashtag not sponsored but should be!" he yelled, making you jump slightly at the sudden loud sound.

"Do you have to be so loud?" you grumbled, playfully covering your ears in the process.

"Oh, sorry love," Tom chuckled, shooting you a sweet smile before turning back to the camera, finger pointed at it as he said, "But Ryan, my DMs are always open."

"Always looking for someone to replace me," you sighed, shaking your head dejectedly as you turned to the camera with a deep frown.

"Ah, here we go," Tom groaned, shooting you a playful glare because he knows that the teasing would only get more and more prominent from here on out.

"What? You and I both know I've got a lot of competition," you said as a matter of fact, leaning back on your seat with arms crossed over your chest. "Mainly Jake G. and Harrison, with a couple of variations here and there but you get what I mean."

Tom shook his head at you with a teasing roll of his eyes. "Once again, my girlfriend everyone," he said to the lens with a tight lip smile before turning back to you with a deadpan expression. You only shrugged in response, flashing him an innocent smile.

"Anyway, a fan suggested this in the comments of the last video so today, we're going to be doing Truth or Drink," he continued, turning back to face the camera. "Rules are simple, we take turns on reading out the questions that are written on these cards right here"—Tom lifted the stack of white, rectangular cards before placing them back on the table—"and we either answer them truthfully or we take a drink."

"Oh and a little disclaimer," you paused as you looked at the camera. "The lads wrote the questions so we have no idea what's in the cards nor did we have any involvement in the choosing of certain topics which are possibly going to be discussed in this video," you added, feeling like it was a fact that needed to be said.

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

"They're not that bad you divs," Harrison grumbled.

Now you're certain on who wrote most of the questions, he's been keen on taking offense whenever anyone gets suspicious over them. "We'll be the judge of that," you stated, raising a brow at Harrison before turning back to Tom.

"Let's get right into it shall we?" Tom proposed. You gave him a nod in response, jutting out two thumbs up for good measure. "Ladies first," he said, flashing you a charming grin as he gestured towards the pile of cards.

You reached over to the pile, making sure to pick the card in the middle just to make sure that it was completely random. You adore the lads, but knowing how mischievous they can get, you've learned to always keep one eye open with regard to everything that they do. Plus, it was so easy to set it up for you to pick a certain question given that it was only you and Tom taking turns on picking a card.

"We are starting off with something a tad bit dark huh." You gave the lads a swift glance before turning to the card you had on hand. "If I killed someone would you help me cover it up?" you read out loud, placing the card on the discarded pile before your gaze landed on Tom who gave you a small, secretive nod 'yes' which only made you giggle.

Tom leaned forward as he rested his elbow on the marble surface, hand playing with his chin with his eyes on the ceiling to seem that he was deep in thought. He turned back to you and said, "Do we not get any context? Was it an accident or was it on purpose? Was it due to hate or fear? Was it justified?"

"It's a yes or no answer Tom," you laughed.

"Well then, you already know the answer but for legal purposes," Tom paused, reaching for the bucket of ice and putting some in his glass. He poured the gin on top of that and then added a dash of lime, swirling around the glass to mix them all together. "My lips are sealed," he chuckled, lifting the glass up to his lips and taking a drink. "Oh, that's good stuff," he commented, taking another sip before putting the glass back down.

"Hypothetically, if you were going to help, you'll probably be the one who'll get us caught if I'm being honest," you giggled to which Tom threw his head back with a laugh.

"Yeah, you'll tell me what you did, I'll get shocked and as we're getting stuff to you know, hypothetically hide the body, I'll go 'I can't believe you killed someone' in public and then someone will hear and call the police and we're done."

You burst out in a hearty laugh at that, nodding your head in agreement. "That's exactly how it's going to happen."

It was Tom's turn to pick a question, his grin growing wider as his eyes scanned the card in his fingers. "What's the most embarrassing thing you've done in front of me?" he asked, his features brightening in excitement because he already knows the answer. There wasn't really much to begin with other than that one incident that will always haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Do you want me to tell them the story?" you sighed, leaning back on your chair with palms flat on the table. It wasn't one of your finest moments that's for sure and Tom hasn't been letting you hear the end of it. In fact, it was one of his favourite stories involving you both.

"It's up to you, love. You don't have to if you don't want to." Tom shrugged with a smirk, reaching for your glass to get your drink made. "But that moment was so adorable for me though, embarrassing for you but very adorable for me," he added with a wink.

"Adorable or ego boosting?" you pointed out with a raise of your brow.

"Both," Tom laughed, adding some ice in your glass and pouring just the right amount of gin soon after.

You watched with an adoring smile as he poured in the orange juice, the sound of silverware and glass clinking together filling the air as he mixed up the liquids. He then squeezed a bit of lime in your drink, taking the paring knife soon after to slice up another lime in a thin circle, making a small slit in the middle so he can put it on the rim of your glass easily. Tom can be extra at times, of course he felt the need to decorate your drink, even when it wasn't exactly necessary but you wouldn't want it any other way.

"Look at you being a bartender," you teased, Tom looking up from his task to shoot you playful wink with a smug smirk to match.

"You love to see it."

You shrugged, not at all denying his claim because well, you do love seeing it.

"Here you go, mi lady," he hummed, handing you your beautifully decorated drink with a proud grin on his lips.

"Thank you, kind sir."

As much as how refreshing the cocktail looked in its cold glass and bright, orange colored glory, you know you had to be strategic with drinking. Because alcohol boosts your confidence, it makes you brave, it makes you say things you wish you hadn't when sober. And with you being lightweight, it isn't exactly ideal to be happy-go-lucky with it, especially knowing how these questions can go from one thing to another real quick.

You thought it's best to share embarrassing things that you can live with to keep the drinking at a minimum, rather than take too much alcohol too fast and say worse things down the line because you got somewhat tipsy or downright drunk. There's really no way of knowing how hard it hits given that different types of alcohol affect you in different ways.

"Okay, it was when we first met, which obviously doesn't make it any less embarrassing, first impressions and all that," you started, sitting straight up as your fingers drummed around the cool surface of your glass. "Me and a friend of mine were at this park and decided it would be fun to rent out these bikes to get around quicker, so we did. Lo and behold, Tom and Harrison were also at said park—"

"Oh yeah, I remember this," Harrison laughed. "This is going to be good."

You shot the blonde lad a quick glare before continuing. "Luck wasn't on my side that day—well, depends on how you look at things because I did meet Tom and seem to have gotten far," you laughed towards the camera, giving Tom a swift glance who was quick to lock eyes with you as he nodded agreeably with a chuckle. "But add that to me being very clumsy and simply put, I fell off the bike right in front of him," you sighed dejectedly, heat coating your cheeks as the lads chuckled in their seats, purely in amusement and not at all in a demeaning way.

"Go on love, let's hear the full thing," Tom encouraged, sitting back on his chair with his arms crossed over his chest to relax, attention fully on you as if he hasn't heard this story many times before. He genuinely does love hearing it. As you've said, it was one of his favourites.

"I'm getting there," you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at Tom who only flashed you an adorable, bright smile, knowing that if he does that, you can't stay mad at him. With a another sigh, you continued, "As we were riding our bikes, we saw him and Harrison sitting on this random bench from afar doing, I don't know, maybe they were on a date or something—"

"Darling, don't try and steer the topic here," Tom laughed. You stuck out your tongue at him—yes, very mature—his laughter only growing louder at your reaction.

"I'm a big fan of the Marvel movies, so obviously, I knew who he was. I was trying to keep my cool, you know, I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of him and thought I'll just ride pass, don't want to disturb whatever they had going on. But as soon as we got near to where they were sat, he looked towards my direction and we made eye contact—"

"The power I have," Tom crooned with a smug smile, earning a pointed eye-roll from you.

"Oh shut up. You know that wasn't the sole reason why I fell," you scoffed. "The chains on my bike went loose so I had no full control over it. We weren't going slowly as well because this friend of mine thought it was a good idea to one up each other so we kept going faster and faster, racing towards who knows what.

"So, my next option was to just plant my foot on the ground to stop it right? But as I've said, luck wasn't on my side that day. Before I could even do it, a rock went under the front wheel—which I didn't see given that I was distracted, you lot know why—and completely took me off balance and the bike went sideways real quick that I didn't have any time to react at all. And...did I roll a few times?" You turned to your boyfriend.

"Twice," he confirmed, a sympathetic smile on his lips as he tilted his head at you sweetly.

"Now, I don't see why you find this story adorable." You narrowed your eyes at your man.

"Not the actual accident, darling. It's what happened after that I found adorable. You were so cute being all shy and embarrassed," Tom defended with a pout. "And you know for a fact that whenever I see you with the smallest scrape or cut I panic and fuss over you immediately."

"You do. A bit too overdramatically," you giggled. It was a bit much sometimes how he worries but that's just Tom being the caring and overprotective boyfriend that he is. "Anyway, so yes, I rolled on the ground twice but all I remember was that I was already lying on my back, watching the sky while my knees, forearms up to my elbows and palms were burning. Then I saw Tom approaching and I swear I was just wishing that the ground would swallow me up right then and there," you finished.

"I quickly rushed to her aid, because you know, I'm Spider-Man," Tom added with a cocky shrugged, arms open wide as if to showcase himself.

There was a loud, collective groan from the lads which earned a laugh from you and a sound of pure protest from Tom.

"It's true!" he exclaimed. "Anyway, she then went, 'oh, my knight and shining armour, my handsome Prince Charming'," Tom gushed, voice at a higher pitch with the utmost exaggeration as he placed the back of his hand over his forehead. "And I went, 'don't worry princess, I'm here to save you,' and then we kissed and lived happily ever after," he concluded with the cheekiest smile.

"We remember this story very differently." You shook your head at him with a hearty laugh. This boy is always something else. "But fine, I'll give you the Prince Charming part because you did look like it.

"What you said was, 'miss, are you alright?' which was very formal of you, especially with the accent." You turned to the camera with a suggestive wiggle of your brows, making Tom drop his head shyly with a chuckle as his cheeks turned slightly pink. "And no, we didn't kiss. You don't kiss people you just met Thomas, get a hold of yourself. He helped me up and was kind enough to offer to take me to the hospital which wasn't needed since it was just a few cuts and scrapes but still insisted that I get checked. Who knew you'd be overprotective since day one," you laughed.

Tom shrugged with a chuckle. "We got to know each other while in the hospital and after she got cleaned up, I thought, I liked talking to her and I really don't want to say goodbye just yet. So, I invited her to lunch which she surprisingly said yes," he teased, sarcasm laced in his tone at his last sentence as he shot the camera a knowing and smug look. You kicked him lightly under the table, the action catching him off guard making him let out a yelp.

"It was more of me being polite because you helped and that. Didn't want to seem rude by saying no," you said, Tom gasping in full offense at your words. You let out a laugh as you rushed, "I'm kidding! Of course I wanted to go to lunch with you. It was impossible to say no because you've been really sweet and a real gentleman that day. And well, it was fun hanging out with you."

Tom smiled widely at that, nothing but pure love coating his features as he held your gaze, hand sneaking over to yours that was on the table and giving it a quick but loving squeeze.

"Where did Harrison go?" Harry wondered, the blonde boy suddenly turning silent and surely enough when you gave him a swift glance, he was already blushing.

"I had my friend with me, Tom had Harrison, you do the math," you said plainly, laughter laced in your tone.

"Oh, so you got some that day," Tuwaine chuckled, nudging the boy beside him with his elbow.

"Shut up, Tuwaine," Harrison grumbled, swatting away his friend lightly.

"But in conclusion, I am a superhero in real life," Tom stated proudly, swiping away the imaginary dust that was lying on his shoulder. He turned to the camera with a bright and wide smile. "But I do thank that bike every day."

"A bit sadistic but okay," you added, looking at Tom skeptically with a scrunch of your nose.

"No! I meant we wouldn't have gotten to know each other if that didn't happen," Tom rushed, lips turning into a pout when you only did nothing but laugh. "You're mean."

"You're just too adorable not to pick on," you giggled, his pout turning more prominent at your words.

You so badly wanted to get up off your seat and give him a proper kiss, but those things are always reserved privately. You two had never been big with public displays of affection, just the casual holding hands and occasional hugs. There are a few instances where you'll sneak a quick kiss while hanging out with friends but that's different compared to it being on tape for the whole world to see later on.

"Anyhow, what's the most embarrassing thing that you have done in front of me?" You asked back, your turn to grin wide because you know which story it was going to be, the way Tom's cheeks were quick to be dusted red was a clear indication that you were right.

"I'm smooth as hell, would never embarrass myself in front of a lady," he said casually, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his chair, all cool and suave.

"Oh shut up and tell the story," you said with a playful roll of your eyes, Tom letting out a shy chuckle before he leaned on the table.

"Right, it was our second date and I split my trousers open," he said, short and sweet, though his blush was already deepening because Tom knows the sharing won't stop there.

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

"Like full on, centre to back, underwear and inner thighs with a bit of butt showing open. It would have been a bit better if I wore black pants—boxers to the American people—and black trousers right? But me being unlucky, I went for light-coloured denim jeans and black pants that day so it's fully obvious that I did ripped my trousers open," he chuckled shyly, hand going to rub at his shoulder, body slightly crouched as he refused to look away from his glass of gin.

"Go on Thomas, let's hear the full thing," you prodded, throwing his previous words right back at him.

He lifted his head up to shoot you a playful glare, though sat straighter anyway, elbows now on the table with his hands clasped together as he got ready to tell his story. "We were well underway our second date, a simpler one which was a walk in a somewhat less crowded park—"

"What's with you two and parks?" Harrison pointed out with a chuckle.

"Disaster just waiting to happen as you can tell," Tom laughed.

"We've steered clear from parks after all these incidents," you joked with a giggle.

"I did a flip and didn't land the right way was basically what happened," Tom continued, turning to the camera with a look of dismay. "We were walking by a couple of street dancers who were practicing a routine and they were doing all sorts of flips and tricks. She stopped walking completely and watched—wait, correction, stared at this certain bloke who was doing backflips—"

"I was not staring," you butted in. "I was just watching him do his thing and said how cool it was. And why are you making it seem like it's my fault?" you gasped, placing a hand over your heart, feign offence crossing your features.

"I'm not!" Tom laughed, hands up in surrender before he crossed his arms over his chest. "All I'm saying was that I was trying to impress you, which is why I offered to show you a flip. And as everyone in this room knows, I do the stupidest things when trying to impress a girl, especially when I like her that much."

"I was already impressed by you as is Tom, you didn't need to do a flip," you said as a matter of fact, small giggles escaping your lips as you looked at him with nothing but pure adoration. Tom felt his heart melt at the sight and more by your words. "And besides, I already knew you could do it. But somehow you felt the need to prove yourself after you saw me complimenting that dancer," you added.

"It's what you call ego, Tom," Harry laughed.

"Shut up, Harry." Tom shot his brother a glare though chuckled right after because it was in fact a bit true.

It was the silliest thing thinking back on it now, how he just said 'you want to see me do a flip?' out of the blue. You furrowed your brows at him in response, though your smile was laced with amusement. He just wanted to impress you as he'd said. And fine, maybe his ego got struck at teeny bit, and maybe he felt a little jealous that your attention got torn off of him because he truly did like you that much.

But at the end of the day, even though he had a little mishap, it all worked out so he wasn't at all complaining. "Anyway, so I did the flip, completely disregarding the fact that my shoes were slippy and my trousers were tight. I did land upright and not on my face this time so that's something," Tom chuckled. "But my right foot slipped so I was full on going on a wide split which I normally can't do since I am not flexible enough and proceeded to fall on my bum.

"The moment I heard the sound I instantly knew and just went, 'oh no' and remained on the ground because I didn't know what to do then. I was already embarrassed because I slipped, do I really want to tell her I tore open my trousers too?" Tom laughed timidly, the blush on his cheeks turning redder as he rubbed the back of his neck in utter embarrassment.

"I kind of knew right away though because I did hear something rip," you giggled. "He then just slowly stood up, hands behind, flat on his bum and said, 'I split my trousers open' in the smallest voice like a kid who's scared to tell their mum they fell or they'll get scolded. Plus his face was beet red, just like now." You pointed towards your boyfriend, who in turn stuck his tongue out at you as his blush turned into an even deeper shade of crimson.

"Thank God I wore a jacket that day and I was able to at least hide it until we got back to the car or else someone would've clocked it, took a picture, posted it on the internet and it would've made things much worse," Tom pointed out with a chuckle, glad that there was no paparazzi or it would've been a nightmare. "And the fact that you tried so hard not to laugh but still failed made me feel so embarrassed that I was quick to think that that was it. I ruined my chances, no more third date," he added as he turned to you with a small pout.

"I couldn't help laughing because it was the most adorable thing how you went from being all confident and cocksure on doing a flip to this shy boy who refused to look me in the eyes without turning even redder," you said, pure amusement laced in your tone. "But no, that incident made me like you more, it was just too endearing. Third date never left the table after that," you concluded with a sweet smile which only made Tom's grin grow wider.

"Even though she laughed, she was so sweet and kind about it. We had to cut our date shor—actually no, we didn't. We went back to your place and decided to do a movie marathon instead," Tom said fondly, face glowing with joy as the memory brought nothing but warmth across his chest.

"Yeah, with you wearing a pair of my sweatpants," you giggled, mirroring his expression as your mind recalled the sweet moment of you and him, simply cuddled up on the couch.

"And that's on getting the girl by splitting your trousers open," Tom said with a smug smile, pointing at the camera as he shot it a knowing look with a wriggle of his brows.

"And getting the boy by falling off a bike," you added, doing exactly what he did as you turned to face the lens.

"Look at us," Tom gushed, looking back at you with a smile, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. "Hey, look at us."

"Look at us. Who would've thought?" you giggled, giving his hand a squeeze in return.

You were always quick to catch on what he was trying to do that Tom couldn't help but smile widely, heart melting ten times over at the thought of you knowing him so well. "Not me," Tom chuckled, letting go of your hand and holding up his palm for a high-five to which you gladly obliged with laughs of your own.

"You two are made for each other," Harry chuckled with a shake of his head, now just getting that you two were recreating the famous Paul Rudd meme.

"My turn right?" Tom asked. You nodded with a hum as you pushed the pile of cards towards him. He let out a loud scoff once he read the question, his reaction making you raise a brow in both curiosity and slight dread. "Be honest," he said as he looked up from the paper, gaze landing on you. "Who do you love more, me," he paused for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes at you before continuing, "Or Tessa?"

You let out a small groan as you hang your head low, fingers tracing the side of your cold glass. You let out a sigh of defeat before you met Tom's expectant gaze. "I can't possibly answer that question," you grumbled, bringing the glass up to your lips as you took a swift drink before placing it back down.

"That was such a tiny sip," Harrison pointed out.

"Alright, alright, I guess we can tell who the bad influence here is," you said with a teasing roll of your eyes, but still took another drink anyway, taking in more of it this time around. You just want to play the game fair and square. "You actually made that really well. It's really good," you hummed at Tom as you placed your drink back down, the lad grinning widely in response.

"Why thank you, darling," Tom crooned, voice smooth with a pride-filled smile, pushing over the pile of cards back in the middle of the table to get you to ask the next question.

"Okay, who wrote this?" You turned to the boys behind the camera with a raise of your brow. "If the alcohol wasn't going to do it, then this will definitely get the video restricted, unless you're going to bleep some words out?" You turned to Harry.

"I've got that covered," Harry laughed.

Glancing back at the card you had on hand, you asked, "If our sex life was porn, what genre would it be?" You looked up at Tom to see him try his best to hold back a smirk.

"Nope, not answering that," he laughed with a shake of his head as he lifted his glass off the table. "Mainly because there are too many genres that it would fit for me to only pick one," Tom muttered softly against his drink as he looked at you through his lashes. His words were muffled but you still heard it, you were closer to him after all. You felt your cheeks heat up at that, even more so when your man shot you a teasing wink before downing the shot of gin not long after.

Tom set his glass down and reached over to take another card. "What does your family think of me?" he asked with a clear of his throat.

"Well..." You slowly dragged your drink closer to you, Tom's mouth falling agape that you couldn't help but burst into a hearty laugh. "I'm kidding! You already know how much they love you," you said. "I mean, my parents call him 'son' so." You shrugged as you turned to the camera. Tom puffed out his chest all proud with a very smug smile on his lips. You rolled your eyes, sighing as you added, "They probably even love you more than they love me."

Tom chuckled, "My family loves you more than they love me, too—"

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

"Thanks, Harry," Tom said sarcastically, flashing his brother a forced smile. Turning back to you, he finished, "So, I guess we're even."

You could only nod with a soft giggle, reaching over to the stack of cards to keep the pace going. "Lads! What's with these kinds of questio—you know what, I don't even expect any less from you guys," you sighed, pursing your lips as you re-read the question again before sitting straight up and looked into Tom's eyes. "What would you do if you caught me watching porn?" you asked.

"Watch it with you and help get it done, duh?" he answered without hesitation, leaning back on his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Have done a couple times actually," Tom murmured, somewhat to himself, though not really since everyone in the room—and pretty sure the camera—heard it.

"Tom!" you hissed.

You felt your body tingle, legs instinctively closing together as the countless moments it happened replayed itself inside your brain. Although what he said wasn't false, it wasn't the full truth either. He didn't exactly catch you red handed, never did since you don't watch porn often.

All you did was asked him—merely out of curiosity—what type he mostly watches. Your question sparked an idea in his head which led to you sitting in between his legs, bare back against his naked chest as the laptop sat right in front of you both with the video of his choice.

Tom then made his way with you while you watched, making sure you never take your eyes off the couple on screen or else. He was always fully in control over you every time you do it, his fingers sometimes delicate, mostly rough, touch hot and heavy all over your skin, lips warm on your neck, teeth sharp against your bare shoulder as he brings you to the edge over and over and over with nothing but his hands. And once the video ends, Tom will take it upon himself to re-enact the whole of it with you—if you could still take it of course—bringing what was on screen to real life, full recreation from start to finish.

Best believed you're properly blissed out at the stop of every play.

Your boyfriend's eyes widened once he realized the actual volume of his voice, face turning a deep shade of red, sitting straight abruptly as he rushed, "No! Wait—dammit." Tom casted his eyes down shyly when the boys let out exaggerated gasps and sounds of disapproval, a telltale sign that they already heard it. "I'm sorry, darling." He met your gaze again as he shot you a sheepish smile, his head tilted to the side guiltily to which you only responded with a shake of your head.

Typical Thomas.

"Bleurgh, too much info," Harrison gagged, the other boys following suit with their own sounds of repulsion.

"Oh fuck off you divs. You guys wrote the questions so obviously, you wanted to find out," Tom countered, shooting the lads a glare each.

"We didn't expect you to actually answer it!" Harry defended.

"We're cutting that whole part out, no way that's going up online," you grumbled, eyes staring at nothing but your drink as you tried to hide the obvious embarrassment that's coated your features.

Tom reached across the table to give your hand a squeeze, you meeting his gaze to see him mouth a gentle 'I'm sorry.' You flashed him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand in return to tell him that it was alright. It wasn't live so there wasn't any real harm done, aside from future jokes from the boys. That you can deal with than having that confidential information on the internet which will then follow you around for the rest of eternity.

Letting go of your hand, Tom sat straighter and turned to the camera. "If you guys are wondering why there's a jump cut and my face is suddenly so red, it's because I spilled something I shouldn't have that we had to cut it out. And no, it's something you'll never find out," he chuckled shyly, knowing that once the video goes out, fans are going to be so annoyed and will pester him—and everyone in the room—nonstop to try and find out what was cut.

Better that, than embarrassing you in front of millions though, so he'll deal with them no problem. Because as promised, if you weren't comfortable with it staying in the video, then it gets cut out, no questions asked. You and what you're comfortable with always come first in Tom's book.

"Yet again, thank God we didn't do this live," you muttered with a playful roll of your eyes.

Tom shot you one last apologetic smile before he cleared his throat, "Right, moving on." He shifted in his seat and took another card from the pile. "What's the one thing you'd change about me?" he asked.

"Your height," you answered without missing a beat. You chewed on your lip to suppress a grin but still failed miserably, especially when Tom looked at you with his jaw hanging and his eyes wide open.

A chorus of 'ooh's erupted from the boys which only prompted a laugh from you, the joyous sound growing louder when they started to rub it to Tom even more.

"Pfft, apply ice on the burnt area," Harry said as he blew out his cheeks.

"Mate, she's just bodied you with that," Tuwaine tutted at Tom, rising up from his seat soon after to offer you a high-five. You gladly obliged with a laugh, Tom gawking at you with utmost betrayal on his face.

"You're lucky you're very cute, especially when you laugh," Tom grumbled as he shot you a playful glare. The crinkles on the corner of your eyes deepened as you only smiled brightly at him with a tilt of your head, which honestly made you look even more endearing. He could never be mad at you, too whipped to hold a grudge no matter how much you tease him. And besides, that's all there is to it, nothing but teasing jokes and banter.

"If I were you, Tom, I'd start taking those growth pills before she starts to question why she's even with you," Harrison proposed jokingly which earned boisterous laughter from the rest of the gang.

"You lot are so fucking overdramatic. I'm not that short," Tom quipped with a roll of his eyes, gaze landing back on you with his famous pout now in play yet again. "And babe, it's a truth or drink video, not a roast me video," he stated, palms flat on cool marble as he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm joking! I'm joking," you rushed with a giggle. "I wouldn't change a single thing. You know I love you, just the way you are," you sang the last line, though your voice held nothing but sincerity as you reached over to give his hand a loving squeeze. Tom nodded with a sigh, though never did he doubt your words, knowing it deep in his bones that physical traits would never outweigh how much you love him, no matter what.

"Right, let's keep this going," you said as you took another card. "Who is smarter, me or you?" you asked.

"Me," Tom said proudly.

"Well, that's a lie," you objected.

Tom couldn't help but laugh at that, nodding at you as he chuckled, "It's you, obviously. Have you seen the last video?"

"Hmm, I don't know, I think Tom's smarter. I mean, you decided to date him, Y/N, which isn't exactly the brightest decision," Harry inferred, earning a loud gasp from his older brother.

"Excellent point," you agreed, your boyfriend's head whipping towards your direction with nothing but absolute offense written on his face.

"Babe! You're supposed to be on my side!" Tom exclaimed. "Why are we roasting me all of a sudden?" he complained.

"You're just too fun to pick on," you laughed, Tom's bottom lip jutting out at your words. "Especially when you do that, too cute," you pointed out, the apples of Tom's cheek turning pink as a smile grew on his lips at the compliment. "But I am smarter," you concluded, shooting the camera a wink.

"Will not refute," Tom chuckled, keeping the flow of the game as he took another card. "If you weren't with me, who of my brothers would you consider dating?" he said, voice pitching higher at the last few words. A look of downright disgust covered Tom's face immediately as he looked at the boys behind the camera who were snickering like the mischievous little shits that they are. "You lot are grim."

You matched Tom's expression, scrunching your nose as you shook your head quickly. Having been with Tom long enough, you now see the three of the Holland boys as your own brothers, so the mere thought of dating any of them is just—

"I'm not even going to think about it," you grumbled as you took a sip of your cocktail and then picked a card right away. "Who's the celebrity who you were the most disappointed with when you met them?" you continued swiftly, a smile on your lips as you looked at Tom who let out a sigh.

"You know I can't answer that," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, your smile growing wider as you picked up the bottle of gin and refilled his glass. "Thank you, darling," he chuckled with a shake of his head, taking a drink right after.

"Is there anyone in my friend group, famous or not, that you do not like?" Tom continued with a raise of his brow, gaze steady on you.

You emptied your glass—that was still half full—without a single word and placed it back down with a small burp. "Oh, excuse me," you cleared your throat with a laugh.

Tom's brows furrowed at you in mere curiosity, gesturing for your glass so he can remake you another drink. You slid it over to him with a soft 'thank you' and a sweet smile. He started opening up the bottle of juice though his eyes were still on you, narrowed in pure skepticism.

"Who?"

"Not part of the question, Tom," you said, flashing him an innocent smile

"I know who it is," Harry coughed fakely.

"Me too," Tuwaine added with a fake cough of his own.

"It's Harrison because he's trying to take you away from me," you commented, laughing at how the blonde lad gasped in utter protest.

"That's a lie because I know who it is too," Harrison defended.

"So, everyone knows except me?" Tom mused, rolling his eyes in the process.

"What else is new?" you giggled with a shrugged, Tom only sighing as he shot you yet another pout. This boy never ceases to use it since he knows you always swoon whenever he does. 'I'll tell you later,' you mouthed, making him nod with a proud smile.

You gently leaned back on your seat, closing your eyes when you felt a little woozy. You took in slow, deep breaths, the marble cold against your palms as your body started to grow warmer from head to toe.

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

"You okay, darling?" Tom asked sweetly, tilting his head at you in worry as he went to take your hand in his. His brows knitted together when your skin felt unusually warm in his palms.

"Yeah," you giggled, opening your eyes to meet his concern-filled brown ones, flashing him a reassuring smile and a nod to match as you gave his hand a squeeze. "Just the alcohol slowly kicking in."

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

"No, I'm good. Go on and ask the question bubba," you prompted as you beamed at him, Tom's heart melting at the beautiful curve on your features and more by the sound of that sweet nickname. Although, he knew that you'd reached your calm before the storm.

You're always smiley and extra sweet when you start to get a little tipsy. But from here on out, especially if you decide to take even more alcohol, you start switching from calm to giddily energetic. That's when the words would start flowing out your lips before your brain could even register what you've just said.

Tom replaced your hand with a white card once he was sure you were fine. A cheeky grin erupted on his face as he asked, "What's your favourite sex position?"

You pursed your lips, eyes landing on the ceiling, fingers drumming on the marble surface of the table as you pondered on it for a second. Tom watched you intently, a soft chuckle escaping him when you met his gaze again with a sweet yet shy smile.

"I've got three though," you said, mostly to him but in a not-so-hush tone. Your mind and your mouth don't cooperate sometimes when there's alcohol in the mix.

"Different one for a different mood," Tom hummed with a smirk, finishing up your drink with a squeeze of lime, mixing it up before sliding it back towards you. "Just say one or take a drink, darling."

"I need to slow down with drinking or else I'll be saying much worse things. I can already feel my filter shutting down," you breathed out, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at Tom for a bit of help. "But do I really want this out in the world?"

"Oh, go on Y/N, live a little," Harrison prodded with nothing but utter mischief in his eyes.

You don't know why but somehow, Harrison words were the last straw for that burst of confidence to suddenly overflow. Boldness coated your every nerve as you squeezed your eyes shut and straight up blurted,

"Doggy."

Tom's eyes grew wide, both of his brows rising as he looked at you surprised. Yes, doggy was one of your—and his—favourites, he already knew that, what surprised him was you actually saying it out loud. Although he was swift to turn cocky as he leaned back on his seat, arms crossed over his chest while he kept his gaze steady on you.

As you peaked one eye, you saw that certain smirk of his now playing on his pink lips, one you only ever see privately. You felt your face heat up at that, added from the alcohol and embarrassment. The warmth was quick to spread to the rest of your body though, with the way he was looking at you, it was so hard for it not too. And as your eyes fully soaked him in, gaze traveling from his handsome face sporting that teasing smirk to his bulging biceps, the temperature could only rise. Your senses was now somewhat heightened that you were able to notice every single thing that made your man so fucking attractive and downright hot.

Since when did his hoodie grow even tighter? And damn, why is it so hot all of a sudden? It's probably the alcohol, or mainly just Tom, or simply both.

"Favourite type of porn!" you hear someone from the gang call out—probably Harrison since he's been causing trouble from the very start—interrupting your thoughts. With the alcohol in your system, just as expected, your brain genuinely forgot to take control of your tongue before you could even tell yourself: 'don't!'

"Sometimes hardcore," you let out, slapping your hand over your mouth immediately as your eyes grew wide. You quickly met Tom's eyes, his brown orbs glowing with shock, amusement and a sprinkle of lust. He gave you a soft nod with a soft smile in response, confirming that yes, you said it out loud, and yes it was already too late. "Oh no, this was what I meant when I needed to slow down on alcohol," you groaned, rubbing your hand over your warm face before looking back across your man with a pout.

"Aye! Hardcore doggy yeah?" Harrison cheered teasingly, moving towards Tom and giving his best friend a pat on the shoulder. Tom threw his head back with a laugh, face red but the look of utmost pride was also there. Harrison swiftly offered his fist to Tom, to which the brunette gladly indulged, their knuckles colliding as chuckles escaped the two mates.

You let out a choked laugh as your eyes widened in surprise, jaw going slack with your face heating up even more. "Did you guys just fist bump to that?"

"I mean." Tom shrugged, throwing his hands up with the smuggest grin, causing you to shake your head dejectedly with a groan. You shot Harrison a pointed glare when he went back to his seat, still snickering to his heart's content as if his master plan was in the works.

What a little shit.

"I'm definitely not going to let my parents watch this video," you mumbled with a roll of your eyes.

"I've got a question for Tom though," Tuwaine started, though the glimmer in his eyes told you it wasn't a clean one. "Do you grab it or do you smack it?"

Tom wheezed before erupting into a very rowdy laugh, hands slapping on his thigh as his body shook in nothing but pure enjoyment, his face red from a mixture of embarrassment, glee and the alcohol.

"Oh my—right! Next question!" you squeaked, not giving your boyfriend any time to answer as you attempted to swiftly move on.

"Wait, wait," Tom breathed out as he slowly calmed down, getting up from his seat as he went over to your side. "Harry stop recording for a sec," he called out to his younger brother before he gestured for you to turn until your back was facing the camera.

Tom crouched down in front of you, hands on your knees with a sweet, reassuring smile on his lips. "We'll edit out the parts you're not comfortable with to stay in the vid, alright?" he stated softly.

You nodded with a smile of your own, taking his hand in yours as you played with his fingers. "I'm not opposed to keeping the last two questions since everyone has their favourite position and type of porn. It's normal," you hummed, tilting your head at him as you added, "You saying you've helped me with, you know, that was much more private though, 'cause it's our thing."

"I know, I'm sorry, love," Tom apologized, voice soft but coated with sincerity as his hand went up to cup your face lovingly, brown eyes gazing up into yours with just the same emotions. "We're cutting that part out, I promise."

"But you think your fans would take these questions well?" you queried, leaning into his touch in a way that made Tom's heart do flips inside his chest.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think it's fine. The video is going to be age restricted anyway. And besides, we're both adults, so there's nothing wrong with it," he explained. You hummed in agreement, leaning your head on his hand as you closed your eyes with a soft sigh, your skin very warm against his palm. Tom moved closer to give your lips a sweet peck. "Want some water angel?"

"No, I'm good." You smiled, Tom nodding as he mirrored your grin, giving your lips another kiss before he stood back to his full height and then sat back on his seat.

Shooting Harry the go signal to start recording again, Tom chuckled, "Sorry, needed to cool down for a sec after that." He turned towards the camera, tugging at the collar of his hoodie as he blew out his cheeks to get a point across.

You could only roll your eyes at your man, his laugh growing louder at your reaction. Swiftly taking a card from the pile, you continued with the game. "Is this going to be the theme from here on out, lads?" you asked, eyeing the boys behind the camera suspiciously before you turned back to Tom. "Is there something in the bedroom you'd like to try that you haven't told me?"

Tom's cheeks turned even redder at the question, completely shying away now as his hand went to rub at his shoulder. "I can't think of one right now," he muttered as he looked at you sheepishly. "But no, I'm not answering that since we talk about that off camera anyway," Tom settled with a timid chuckle, refilling his glass and taking a drink of the gin soon after.

"Your turn," you giggled, pushing the pile towards him.

"Oh, okay. What a way to shift the topic," Tom breathed out, scanning the card one more time as he sat up straighter. "If I was in a coma how long would you wait for me?" he asked, meeting your gaze with a tender smile.

"I'll keep waiting for you until you wake up, no matter how long," you answered, without even a single inch of doubt, despite the slight shake in your voice as your eyes started to well up. "Never giving up on you."

"Darling," Tom cooed softly with a pout, the screeching sound of his chair echoing around the space as he pushed his seat back. He went back over to your side quickly, remaining on his feet as he leaned down to engulf you in a tight and warm embrace, swaying you side to side in the most comforting way as he whispered sweet nothings against your hair.

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath, the material of his hoodie soft against your cheek. You willed your brain not to think much of it, to not dwell on that thought and focus more on the Tom's warmth that's coated you right now. Or else you'll end up a bawling mess, and with the alcohol in your system, it's not a good idea to start crying now.

Your man pulled away gently with a charming smile, cupping your face with both hands as he towered over your seated form. "I'd do the exact same, just so you know," he hummed, brown eyes locked with yours, his thumbs caressing your cheeks fondly before he dipped his head to capture your lips in a loving kiss. You let out a sweet sigh as you melt at the feeling of his soft lips on yours, mind and heart at ease at familiar warmth. The gesture wasn't fully caught on camera though given that you were turned at the opposite direction.

"I love you," you hummed against his lips.

Tom chuckled sweetly, giving you a few more pecks on the lips before pulling away completely, staring right into your eyes as he whispered, "And I love you."

With that he went back to his seat again, flashing you one of his many charming grins before he turned to the group behind the camera.

"You lot are onto something I can tell," Tom said as he raised a brow at the lads who suspiciously grew quiet, looking everywhere in the room but at you two.

Not thinking much of it, you swiftly took another card and read the question. "What would you do if you suddenly get a call that I was gone?" you trailed off at the end of your sentence, brows knitting together as you turned to the group behind the camera. "Guys, this is a cruel question."

"Oh," Tom faltered, smile slowly slipping away from his face as he casted his eyes at his drink.

"Tom, you don't have to answer it," you called out softly, frown deep on your lips as you reached over to take both his hands in yours. But it was already too late when he squeezed your hand tightly, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze and you felt your heart ache. That's when you saw that his mind was already there, brown orbs glossed up as he let out a shaky breath.

"I'd literally shut down," he croaked. "I-I don't know what'd I do if that happens. I just can't imagine my life without you. I—" he stopped, head dropping as his voice broke.

"Oh Tom, come here," you cooed as you immediately got out of your seat and rounded the table, turning him around and away from shot for a bit of privacy. You squatted in between his legs that were spread apart to be much closer to him, gently cupping his face with both your hands so that you were now within eye level. "Hey, look at me," you whispered when you were met by eyes that were screwed shut.

With a deep intake of breath, Tom willed his eyes to open. He looked at you with a small smile playing on his lips, heart steadying at the sight of your beautiful orbs boring into his own. He leaned forward to close the distance between you two, just so he could feel your lips on his. Tom badly needed to. A soft satisfied sigh erupted out your chest as your hand took home on his warm cheek.

"I'm still here bubba. I'm not going anywhere," you hummed against his lips before giving him warm kisses all over his face that made him stifle out a small laugh. You pulled away a little with a loving smile, wiping away the few tears that sat on his skin with your thumb, your touch gentle and warm.

"I love you so much, you know that?" Tom whispered as he looked at you fondly, nudging the tip of his nose with yours in a wholesome manner.

"I love you too, you sweet, soft boy," you giggled, placing a sweet peck on his lips before pulling him in for a hug. You lifted your head up to shoot each of the boys a sharp glare, the three cowering away in their seats as they each said their soft apologies.

Pulling away with a smile, you cupped Tom's face with a hum, "Better?"

"Loads," Tom sighed with a sweet smile, leaning in for one last peck before he lets you go back to your seat. "You purposely put that in there to make me cry didn't you?" Tom spoke, narrowing his eyes at boys who only shrugged in feign innocence. "You lot are evil I tell you."

"Now let's get back on a lighter note!" you exclaimed, pushing the cards towards Tom since it was his turn to ask.

Tom pursed his lips as his brows furrowed at the question. "If you could sleep with any person in the world, who would it be?" he wondered, eyes locking with yours in warning. "Now, careful with your answer, love," he hummed.

"Is that a threat Holland?" you challenged with a raise of your brow.

"I'm just saying, I may already know or will meet this person in the futur—"

"Chris Hemsworth," you blurted, Tom's mouth falling open as he gawked at you in shock. "I'm kidding," you rushed with a hearty laugh.

"Are you though?" Tom doubted, squinting at you suspiciously.

You bit your bottom lip as you held his gaze, Tom letting out a loud gasp when you suddenly took a drink all while maintaining eye contact with him.

"I'm going to have a word with you later missy," he grumbled, voice suddenly an octave deeper, somewhat a soft growl, one that you felt down to your core.

You shifted in your seat with a clear of your throat, shooting him an innocent smile as you said, "To be fair, you did say—publicly may I add—that you'd sleep with Hemsworth too when you did fuck, marry and kill with the three Chrises so, roll the clip!"

Tom shook his head at you with a playful roll of his eyes. "Touché," he sighed, brows furrowed in confusion when you suddenly covered your mouth.

"Oops, I just realized I said the F-word, sorry Harry," you said meekly, a certain smile on your lips which guaranteed that you were now dancing onto drunken territory. Tom knows you like the back of his hand, if the way you were smiling wasn't enough then, the simple look in your eyes would let him know that the alcohol has fully hit you this time.

"It's alright. One bleep word is nothing compared to last week's video. And it's not like this video has been clean anyway," the young twin chuckled.

"So, Fuck Hemsworth, who are you marrying and who are you killing?" Tuwaine asked.

"Marry Evans, Kill Pratt," you answered promptly.

Tom leaned back on his seat as he crossed his arms over his chest, running his tongue over his teeth slowly all while staring you down. "That's a quick answer Y/N," he hummed, shooting you a teasing glare.

"Oh please, yours was quick too, Thomas," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest as you mirrored him, never backing down from his stare even though it was making you feel certain things.

"Wait, if you're marrying Evans and killing Pratt, and I'm marrying Pratt and killing Evans, does that mean we're set out to kill each other's husband?" Tom started as he leaned forward and towards the table.

"So, if you were successful in killing Evans, and I was successful in killing Pratt, that means we're both widowed," you continued, laying your hands now flat on the marble surface.

"Meaning there's still a chance that we will still end up together. Meant to be if you ask me," Tom concluded, lifting up a hand.

You moved forward to give him a high-five, missing his hand by a lot which made you let out a loud, hearty laugh, Tom following suit with laughs of his own.

"What are you two on?" Harrison said with a crinkle of his nose.

"Alcohol," you and Tom answered at the same time. Both of your mouths turned into the shape of O's as you looked at each other properly delighted.

"Jinx!" both of you exclaimed in unison. "Jinx again!"

"Our mental synchronization; can have but one explanation," you and Tom sang in harmony, never breaking your gaze as you both smiled proudly.

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

"Meant to be!" You two ended with fits of laughter, raising your hands to go for another high five. You missed Tom's hand again which only made you wheeze, tears of joy brimming in yours and his eyes as you tried for the second time, both of you cheering loudly when it finally landed.

"Cringe, really made for each other," Harry gagged teasingly with a grimace to match.

And then Harrison intervened. "How about fuck, marry, kill, Tom Hiddleston, Tom Felton and," he paused, grin turning wider like a Cheshire cat as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. "Tom Holland?"

"That's not part of the game," you protested with a pout.

"Answer the question, darling," Tom encouraged, looking at you expectantly.

"I'm taking a shot," you muttered, going for your drink but before you could even do so, Tom had already taken it far away from your reach. "Hey!" you whined.

Tom chuckled softly as he shook his head no. "You said it's not part of the game so no, you have to answer," he said. "And that's enough alcohol for you, my love," he cooed, tilting his head at you knowingly with a sweet smile. If Tom will let you continue with the drinking then you'll surely be complaining nonstop about the throbbing headache you'll get and the constant nausea after all this.

You sat back on your chair with your bottom lip jutted out, arms crossed over your chest to match, much like a child as you started to think about your answer. Although the process took way longer than you'd expect it to be and the boys were quick to notice.

"Uh oh, she's having a hard time," Harry teased when a few long seconds has gone by and you still haven't given an answer.

"I don't know how I feel about the hesitation here," Tom admitted as he looked at you curiously, brows furrowing with a chuckle when you were still deep in thought after a few seconds more.

"She genuinely is having a hard time," Tuwaine laughed.

"This is so unfair," you grumbled dejectedly as you looked at your man with a sweet, adorable pout, silently asking for help.

"What'd you do with me first to make things easier," Tom offered with a chuckle.

As if there was a hidden message to his words—there wasn't—your face suddenly lit up, slapping your palms on the table excitedly as you sat straighter. "You know what, kill the other two and I'll fuck and marry you," you declared heartily, eyes locked securely with Tom's with the proudest grin playing on your lips.

Tom's heart did somersaults at the mere fact of you wanting to marry him, grin wide and bright as he stared into your orbs, utmost love glowing in yours that was wholesomely mirrored by his brown ones.

It wasn't long until Tom felt his blood rush down though, heat dancing on his skin as his brain got occupied with the thought of you fucking him too. Certain memories flooded his mind, one after the other that it was getting harder for him to stay calm in his seat.

You are honestly giving him a whiplash with how you make him feel one emotion to another in a span of seconds, though Tom wasn't at all complaining.

"That's not how the game works!" Harrison exclaimed.

"I'm pretty happy with that answer," Tom shrugged with a wide, cocky grin, eyes never leaving yours as he raised a brow at you suggestively. You held his gaze with a tilt of your head, bottom lip caught between your teeth to try and stop your smile from growing.

The interaction didn't go unnoticed by Harry though. "Okay, stop eye-fucking each other you horny teenagers," the younger brother complained.

Tom laughed at that, shifting in his seat as he turned towards the camera. "On that note, we're ending the video there. This has been Tom Holland," he paused, giving you a nod as a cue.

"And Mrs. Holland," you blurted at the camera with a smile, eyes widening once you realised the choice of words you've just used. "Oh wait! No! Fuc—I don't mean no as in 'no,' I meant not yet," you fumbled. "We're not even engaged yet! Don't start with the headlines you." You pointed at the camera in warning.

He shook his head with a chuckle, red tinting his cheeks but pure admiration glowed in his eyes. "You own my fucking heart, you know that? You make me melt all the damn time," Tom gushed through gritted teeth, and it was taking a whole lot of his self-control to not jump over the table and just kiss you senseless. You felt your heart grow at his words but you could only bury your face in your hands with a groan of pure embarrassment. "She's drunk, my apologies," Tom added with a laugh as he turned towards the camera.

"Tipsy, there's a difference," you corrected as you shot him a glare.

Tom chuckled, smiling at you widely before turning back to the lens. "Anyway, see you on the next one and peace!" he finished with the sign and then a salute, Harry throwing out an upturned thumb to signal cut.

Once he saw that the camera was off, Tom was out of his seat in record speed, moving over to your now standing form as he swiftly wrapped both his arms around your waist and crashed his lips onto yours with a low groan. His arms tightened around you as he relished the feeling of finally having you so close.

You giggled against the kiss, resting your arms over his shoulders as you leaned back on the table to keep your balance, your bum half-rested on the marble while your foot stayed steady on the floor, legs apart so that Tom can situate himself between them easily.

"So, fuck and marry me huh?" Tom hummed deeply against your mouth, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before pulling away so he can see your gorgeous face fully.

"Out of all the things I've said, that's what stuck with you?" you giggled with a shake of your head.

"I mean, you fucking me will never fail to sound very hot, reminds me of the few times you did." Tom wriggled his brows at you suggestively, hands giving your waist as teasing squeeze. "Though I don't know which one's hotter, that or you marrying me," he said with the proudest smirk.

"Will you two take this somewhere else?" Harry complained, always the last one to be left in the room given that he's mostly in-charge with taking care of the camera. Harrison and Tuwaine were already gone, continuing whatever they had to do that day.

"Don't think that would make a difference though," Tom chuckled smugly, looking back at you with a knowing grin.

"Which reminds me how we need to sound proof the fucking walls you nasty rabbits."

"I was kidding. We're not that loud fuck off," Tom remarked, rolling his eyes at his brother.

And to prove how wrong Tom's point was, Harrison suddenly started moaning so piercingly right in the next room, his voice a bit muffled but you can still hear him, loud and obnoxious.

"Fuck! Love! Fuck yes! Just like that, darling! Shit baby I'm gonna—"

"Fuck off Harrison you fucking twat!" Tom yelled at the top of his lungs, the blonde lad's boisterous and annoying laugh echoing soon after.

Tom turned crimson red as the embarrassment coated him from head to toe, head dropping for him to hide his face on the crook of your neck with a groan. You let out a soft giggle, hand landing on the back of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly. Your face was warm as you were embarrassed just the same, although there was more of a sense of pride on your behalf because yes, Tom does get a bit loud sometimes, all courtesy to you.

It wasn't always of course, both of you aren't evil enough to torture the lads that much. Aside from the fact that Tom is rarely even home—meaning you don't do the deed that much in this house—the two of you had made a pact to make sure that you're completely alone before properly going at it. Admittedly, it does get a bit hard to keep the noise down sometimes, so the boys have to endure it every now and then. They do get back at you guys soon after as they are quick to be little shits with the teasing and dirty jokes, much like now.

"Maybe we do need to soundproof our walls," you teased once your man pulled away to look at you with a soft sigh, hands running up and down your waist sweetly.

"Or we could finally look for our own place to move in?" Tom proposed with a charming smile, your heart melting at the sight and skipping a beat at his words.

Granted, you've been with Tom for a fair three and a half years already, but neither of you had gone to take that step of actually living fully on your own where it's just no one but him and you in your own home. You've been living in this house for roughly the same time—maybe a year or two less—and you've got no problem living with the lads, you consider them as your brothers now. But you won't deny that having a place exclusively for you and Tom only would be pure bliss.

Of course you've talked about getting your own place and neither of you were opposed to it. It all just came down to Tom being constantly busy and barely even home. You'd rather live with the boys for the mean time than sulk all alone in a house while slowly being buried in the emotions of missing your boyfriend.

Tom also wanted to be there for the most of it—choosing and buying furniture, decorating a thing or two, moving, the likes—but with his schedule, it was hard to find the perfect time.

But now he's promised you that he'd slow down for a bit.

He genuinely hasn't done anything but work nonstop. It was just projects upon projects with only so little breaks in between, a month if he's lucky. Tom is one hardworking man, that's one of the many things you love about him, but he sometimes doesn't realize when he's pushing himself too far.

That's when you step in.

You'd encouraged him to take a breather, even if it's just for half a year or so but you never did pester him about it constantly as you weren't one to take him away from doing what he loves. Unless it gets way out of hand, then that's when you'll be putting your foot down. You know he'll do it whenever he's ready to slow down and now with most of his projects wrapped, he's finally decided that it was the right time to take that much needed break.

"I love the sound of that," you giggled, treading your fingers through his hair before tracing it down his chiseled jaw. "Not as much as I love the sound of you moaning though," you hummed teasingly.

"Well then, let's find our own place so you can hear me moan all for you and as loud as you want, darling," Tom purred lowly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as his darkened orbs bored into yours, his hands sliding down to rest on the swell of your bum. He fondled the flesh hotly as he started to lean closer to capture your lips. But before Tom could even do so a loud voice made you both jump away from each other.

"For fuck's sake guys! I'm still fucking here!" Harry yelled, throwing both his hands in the air in downright annoyance and disgust as he screwed his eyes shut. "Go to your fucking room for the love of my sanity!"

You didn't even get a chance to apologise to the young lad as Tom swiftly grabbed your hand and rushed to your shared bedroom.

Nothing happened though apart from a couple minutes of making out, Tom deciding not to take it further given that you were all tipsy and intoxicated. Him deciding since you were persistent on saying you were fine even though you were giggling nonstop, easily tickled no matter how feather-like his kisses were. Not to mention how you could barely even keep your eyes open. So, both of you ended up taking a warm bath and then a nap right after that, instead.

Although the minute you sobered up, Tom made sure you weren't at all quiet this time around. It was due to the pent up tension that's been building since that somewhat steamy Q&A. And maybe, just maybe to get back at the boys a teeny bit for being little shits with both the teasing jokes and the dirty questions.

The two of you went out of your bedroom only at dinner time, stepping foot in the dining area where Harry, Tuwaine and Harrison were all situated. You felt the embarrassment coat every inch of your body when you took sight of the boys, more specifically, their expressions. Tom, on the other hand, had the cockiest smirk playing on his lips as he held his head high, tauntingly chuckling at his mates.

The three lads were sitting around the table with nothing but grimaces and downright disgust on their faces as they all grumbled in unison,

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

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[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART SEVEN

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Dream Boy by Waterparks

Warnings: swearing

Words: 2.1K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

Y/F and Y/M Robins were far from perfect parents. Y/F had the mental age of a toddler at times, and being an estate agent who always has to go the extra mile- he often wasn't home when his wife needed him the most. Y/M, on the other end of things, had been a stay at home mum until Y/N turned 16 last summer, and now she helped with all the administrative work for Mayor McCoy. She was a maternal creature which, coupled with her brilliant sarcasm, made for some explosive conversations. The two met on the first day of university and got married a week after the last.

When Y/M first found out she was pregnant with little Y/S Robins, the two realised they wanted a quiet bubble of a town to raise their children and grow up with them. But it wasn't until their second daughter was about to turn seven until they found their forever home in the quaint town of Riverdale. Ten years passing before their eyes, and the picturesque place didn't seen all that anymore.

Jason Blossom's death had nothing to do with the short gunshot sounding over the waves of Sweetwater River, the noise which woke Y/N from her sweet unmemorable dreams every few nights. The summer days rolled into early August without anyone caring, Y/N spending most of them at Cheryl's side listening intently to her past adventures with her brother. Betty threw herself into an internship at a publication house; Flick and Cherry had volunteered at a summer camp, and Archie was helping his dad out more and more with constructions job.

Although it hadn't been the start to the relationship Y/N had hoped for- the nervous giggles and hand holding, short and sweet kisses on late night walks followed by poetry worthy cuddling. There was a magnificent silver lining as Archie's muscles gained definition, and he suited the sweaty builder look far too well.

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"Earth to my gorgeous queen? Y/N/N?" Cheryl quizzed her friend, who currently resided at the poolside of Thornehill Manor. Her mind was off on a glorious tangent about her rendezvous in the kitchen at two in the morning. Fixing herself a glass of water, when Archie slips his hand into her pyjama shorts, his other around her mouth muffling her needy moans.

The red headed beauty shoved her y/h/c friend playfully, warm skin sweaty under her pale touch. Y/N blinked innocently and sent her an apologetic smile, "What?"

"I asked if you've thought about dating anyone else since Clayton?" The fiery ginger girl enquired with her usual upbeat tone.

Cheryl knew she had a unique quality about her which made it almost impossible for Y/N to lie to her face. The y/h/c girl scrunched up her nose, hiding the smile the idea of Archie Andrews brought to her face. 'Yes. We started off as fuck buddies but never actually fucked. Then I drunkenly asked him to be my boyfriend, now a month later I think we may genuinely work out.'

"Maybe." Y/N bit her bottom lip, listening to her friend's squeal as she squeezed her sun tanned arm.

"I knew it! You have this euphoric glow you only get when someone else makes you climax." The redhead affirmed confidently, watching the Robins girl's eyes bug out before hitting her arm, "Y/N/N, you know your secret's safe with me."

"Fine." She sighed and took a sip of her fruity cocktail, "It started off as just fooling around, honestly I just needed to let off some steam after everything. I knew he was into the kinds of things I was, I mean he used to tease me about it non stop. And it was good, so good I stopped being a pussy and asked him to be my boyfriend."

"Holy freaking hell!" The Blossom girl grinned with excitement, "Dare I ask, who is it?"

Y/N deadpanned at her friend, "Guess."

"Please don't tell me it's that muscular oaf Reggie, he's pretty but there's not exactly much going on upstairs." Cheryl tapped her temples and rolled her eyes at the thought.

"Nope."

The ginger thought for a moment, consulting her liquid courage and splashing her feet around the waters edge, "It's Archie."

All it took was a side-eyed glance at the y/h/c girl's blooming rosy cheeks to know she definitely wasn't wrong. Y/N severely lacked the ability to lie, even if her tone held conviction, her features were far too expressive and told the truth all on their own. It's not like they were hiding it from anyone, but the past four weeks had gone far too quickly without any moments to spare for the world around them. They slept together each night, the majority of that time not actually spent sleeping, but they hadn't been given the chance yet to explore more romantic avenues.

"It's fucking Archie Andrews- you're fucking Archie Andrews and don't you dare deny it." Cheryl gawked in her gorgeous white and nude bikini, watching as her friend lay back against the hot marble slabs which encased the large pool with the largest grin adorning her plump lips.

"We haven't had sex yet, so technically you aren't completely correct." Y/N winked but carried on before the girl exploded with a hundred questions and could never be turned off, "Trust me, I want to, and I'm sure he does too. But you know, it's his first time, I want it to be perfect for him."

"Y/N/N, you really love him, don't you?" Cheryl gagged to begin with, but she found it sweet in truth. She wanted someone to hold, who would hold her right back just as tight for no other reason than needing to.

Y/N sat back up and paddled her feet, "You have no idea, Cher."

Arch 🧡

That new post should be illegal

Tiger 💛

Ooo

I like this reaction

Maybe I should post more

Like this one

Cheryl pushed me in the pool

And I may have had a drink

Or three

Arch 🧡

Well that's sexy

I swear nobody looks good like that how on earth

You're a goddess

But also

How's she holding up?

Tiger 💛

🥺😇

Broken

But she's strong yk

You coming over for dinner?

Arch 🧡

Yeah Y/D invited my dad too

Need me to pick you up from Cheryl's?

Tiger 💛

Awe cute we love a bromance, and it's all good my mommas coming now anyways :))

Hours had elapsed far too fast and soon the summer heat simmered into cool waves of wind brushing over sun kissed skin. Cheryl's arms were clasped around the blonde's shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Thank you so much, Y/N/N, I don't know what I'd do without you!" The Blossom girl professed with sparkling eyes and a brilliant smile.

Y/N beamed up at her, fingers carding through her damp y/h/c hair as she looked over her shoulder to see her mum pulling into the driveway, "You don't need to thank me, Cher, friends look after each other. Message me if you need me, okay?"

Cheryl promised she would and the two teen girls hugged goodbye, with Y/N soon heading home- listening to her mother gossip about Hal and Alice's screaming match last night, Y/N loved her inability to keep her mouth shut sometimes.

"Mom," The y/h/c stopped her mid sentence and received a side eyed glance in response, "I need to tell you something and you're totally not allowed to freak out while you're driving."

Y/M's eyes widened and her grip tightened around the steering wheel, her daughters very rarely confided in her. While she knew her youngest was safe in her promiscuity, neither of Y/M Robins' girls ever shared their secrets so for the most part she took finding out into her own hands.

"Honey," The forty four year old's calm tone was hardly comforting to the teenager, "if this is about you and Archie fooling around, your father and I figured that out a long time ago, like so long ago. Who do you think does your laundry? When your underwear starting looking like dental floss, we caught on pretty quickly."

Y/N felt like a deer in headlights, "Mum, what the hell?" Her cheeks heated to an inhuman temperature.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, as long as you're being safe and he's-"

"For the second time today, and I can't believe I'm saying this to you, but I am not having sex with Archie Andrews!" Y/N's high pitched voice sounded through the car. It truly was a blessing and a curse to have such open minded parents in situations like this. She thought about telling her mother the truth, but Y/M was a blabber mouth as well as a gossip, so Y/N chose to withhold certain pieces of information.

The Robins matriarch dropped the subject but didn't forget about her daughter's tone, and continued to ramble on about how odd she found Penelope Blossom and the whole Blossom family in general. "Like why on Earth is Rose in a wooden wheelchair? They know it's the twenty first century, right?"

As expected, the Robins household was once again filled with warm laughter and copious amounts of food. The topic of Jason was skimmed over, and Y/S found herself away from the dinner table. The eldest Robins sibling was currently pleading with Alice as she began shoving all of Polly's belongings in the boot of Hal's car. She couldn't comprehend life without her best friend, not after losing Jason. They were meant to be going travelling together for a year- working the worst jobs and staying up all night to watch the sun rise in different countries. But instead, Y/S's eyes were blinded by tears as she screamed down the street at the speeding car, with Polly Cooper taken out of her life indefinitely.

Y/N was oblivious to the dark inner workings of the Cooper clan, Betty's knowledge about her and Archie unbeknownst to the loved up teens. She'd spent every second not occupied by her internship trying to justify the romantic act as a fleeting moment of loneliness fuelled by alcohol. She wrote in her diary ideas on how she could win Archie back over, not knowing it was in fact, too late. Betty found herself hopelessly in love with the boy next door, unfortunately for her, the girl across the road was the only one his mind found.

Archie and Y/N washed up while their parents resided to the living room with three glasses and a bottle of white wine. The short girl turned the tap off after placing the last utensil on the draining board, flicking her sudsy hands at the boy's face. "What the-"

She didn't give him a chance to finish that thought, jumping up and wrapping her legs around his torso- planting a kiss onto his lips, then cheeks, then forehead. The two fell entranced by each other, planting pecks across nape of her neck and top of his head.

"Son," Fred's voice called out from the next room and the two immediately pulled apart, hearts beating in their ears, "we're going in a minute."

"Alright." He replied, placing his girlfriend on the floor once more.

"I wish you'd stay." Y/N pouted childishly, she meant the words entirely but hated feeling overbearing. Her life had been turned upside down this summer, it started off with her unable to fall asleep with another person next to her- now Archie's chest was her most comfortable pillow and is arms were the warmest blanket.

"Tomorrow night instead, Princess? I promised my dad I'd spend more time with him before senior year." The boy reasoned, holding her close and unknowingly feeling the exact same way, he adored holding her by her waist and pulling her close under the duvet.

"Monopoly night at yours?" She grinned and he nodded back in reply, the two sharing a final kiss in the kitchen before walking into the hallway.

Y/N felt at ease as she wished the two a goodnight and headed up to bed. She took off her tea dress and replaced it with Archie's bulldog t-shirt, managing to reach the same length on her thighs as her dress did.

Arch 🧡

I can still smell your perfume on my sheets

Tiger 💛

Marking my territory obviously x

Arch 🧡

I love it

Hope you sleep well baby x

Tiger 💛

Call me that tomorrow and we won't be sleeping so you better rest up tonight x

Arch 🧡

Whatever you say, baby x

Tiger 💛

Goodnight x

Arch 🧡

Night princess x

part eight?

wanna be tagged? just send in an ask x

#fanfic #fanfiction #riverdale #archie andrews #archie x reader #archie andrews x reader #archie #Riverdale imagine #riverdale fluff #riverdale smut #riverdale imagines #archie imagine #fluff #smut

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA: 

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all! #THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

[rowanaelinn]

Fire on Fire - Chapter Three

Chapter two // Chapter four

“My head’s gonna explode,” Elide Lochan sighed before she drank two big gulps of water as if she had been thirsty for days. Aelin knew the feeling. She’d been working for two hours now but it felt like ten. The bar was so hot and the music so loud, she couldn’t wait to go home and come back to the silence of her room.

Today was her first day and of course, it was a Saturday night, the busiest night of the week. The uniform, which was basically only a tight white shirt and a pair of black booty shorts, was one of the other reasons Aelin decided she hated this job but only stayed for the money. Aelin had been lucky today if you can call it that, but unfortunately, that luck didn’t extend to Elide.

Some douche-bags slapped her ass when she served him his drink, and of course, all his friends howled with laughter. As if sexual harassment was some kind of joke. The moment Elide mentioned this incident, Aelin had wanted to slam the guy's head on the table but Elide stopped her. The customer was always right and both Aelin and Elide needed this job too much.

They had decided not to tell their co-worker Manon about that, Aelin and Elide had already worked with her before and Aelin knew where Manon was, violence usually followed. It was something Aelin loved about that woman, and she also found it hot as hell. Okay, maybe she had a bit of a crush on the white-haired woman. But in Aelin’s defense, Elide did have a crush on her too. It was like a general experience.

“Do you think we’ll be fired if we don’t go back?” Aelin put her cold bottle of water against the back of her neck, in an attempt to cool her down.

“Definitely, Rofle is a dick. I mean have you seen this outfit?” The brunette turned on herself and gestured to the more than revealing clothes. Aelin agreed, if her cousin saw her in this outfit he would have a heart attack. She was suddenly glad this bar opened last week, at least Aedion didn’t know this place. Yet.

“Girls,” Nesryn interrupted them. “Break’s over. Go back to work.”

Aelin undid her ponytail, a forbidden hairstyle in this bar apparently, and went back behind the counter. She wore her best fake smile and ignored the lingering looks on her breast or her backside, winked and flirted back when clients thought they had a chance of taking her home with them. Aelin hid her disgust of these men pretty good, she was proud of herself for it.

She would quit if she wasn’t low on money lately. For hell’s sake, Aedion was paying half of her rent. It had been a very long discussion between them, Aelin would rather live on the street than depend on someone. Aelin got convinced when Aedion made it clear if she didn’t accept he would call her parents. So Aelin put her pride aside and accepted, at the only condition Aedion let her pay him back whenever she could. He had argued but accepted. The Ashryver family wasn’t very good at compromise, but at least they tried.

“Aelin, go take the order of table nine,” Manon yelled at her over the background noise. Aelin gave her a thumb up as she kept pouring alcohol in the shaker.

When Aelin was done making this cocktail she wiped her hands and walked toward table nine. She looked down to grab her little booklet and pen she left in one of the pockets of her apron as she said, “Hi, welcome to the sea dragon, what can I-” She stopped as she took in who was sitting in front of her. Lorcan Salvaterre, Fenrys, Connall Moonbeam, and of fucking course, gods-damned Rowan Whitethorn. She took a deep breath and smiled, but she knew her fake smile wasn’t as convincing as it was minutes before.

She focused on Fenrys and Connall, the only ones she could stand at that table. “What can I get you?”

Fenrys had an amused look on his face, accentuated by his smirk full of wickedness. “So this is your new job?” He asked, and if she didn’t know him the look could be considered genuine.

“You knew it, Fen. I told you hours ago.” Rowan’s head whipped to Fenrys, and Aelin’s face suddenly mirrored Fenrys’s. She didn’t know what the blonde had in mind, but if it annoyed Whitethorn, Aelin was on board. Rowan’s head turned back toward her and he narrowed his eyes. “Got something on my face, Whitethorn?” She couldn’t help it, she had to always argue with him.

“Yeah, all that make-up,” his eyes roamed over her body, it took everything in her not to move under the weight of his gaze. “What’s that outfit anyway?” His disdain was quite obvious.

“My uniform, dumbass.” She tightened her grip around her pen and notebook so much that her knuckles turned white. “Be careful, it almost sounds like you care.” It was one of the most sarcastic things she had ever said in her life, the look in his eyes was enough proof.

“Why would I care about you when you’re dressed like a stripper?” He crossed his arms and Aelin had to force herself not to stare at his muscles and at the tattoo on his arms. He was a handsome bastard and it made him quite hard to hate.

“So, no respect for sex workers, Whitethorn? Why am I not surprised?”

“No, actually I respect them a lot. You’re the only person I don’t respect.” It took everything in her not to punch him in the face right now, but that’s what he was waiting for. It was like he loved to see her lose control.

“I’m going to enjoy spitting in your drink.”

“Do that and I’ll have a nice chat with your boss, good luck to find another job, princess.” He was getting angry, Aelin loved that, it meant she was winning their little game.

“Feel free to do it, it just means you’ll have to share that splendid bathroom with me longer.” She winked at him and wiggled her brows. Rowan clenched his jaw, another sign of his anger.

“Can you two stop for a minute? I’m thirsty.” Lorcan Salvaterre interrupted them and Aelin rolled her eyes. She wasn’t exactly on friendly terms with Lorcan either, but instead of always arguing as she did with Rowan, they just ignored each other.

“Who are they?” Elide asked as Aelin prepared her roommates’ order. The four of them wanted a beer, classic.

“Two of them are the bane of my existence and the two others annoying but very pretty.”

“I want him in my bed,” Elide said as she bit her lip. Aelin whipped her head toward the guys, trying to know which one she was talking about.

“I have no idea which one you’re already planning to get naked but one of them is gay and the other three aren’t good options.”

“Great, I don’t want good and I don’t want to be good. And It’s the tall one.” Elide winked and left before Aelin could say anything. Of course, Elide would be attracted to Lorcan. Alein went back to their table, accidentally spilling a little bit of Rowan’s beer on him when she accidentally tripped. He swore at her but she decided to ignore it, instead, she pushed him so she could sit next to him to be right in front of Lorcan.

“You,” She pointed at Lorcan, with her smile full of mischief.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She shook his head and she heard the twins laugh.

“What’s your type of woman?”

“Everything you aren’t.”

“I’m gonna look past that insult because I am an amazing woman,” she was cut off by Rowan’s snort. “You shut up, you’re thirty and still single.” She looked back at Lorcan but heard Rowan correct her on his age. His highness was still twenty-nine for three months. “What about 5”2, brunette, very very scary. She’s also one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have good taste. I’m not her type but you are.” She winked at him. Rowan muttered something that sounded a lot like “We aren’t teenagers anymore” but she ignored him.

Lorcan furrowed his brow, Aelin could see him hesitate. “Where?”

“Want to see her dance?” Aelin didn’t wait for the answer and walked back to the bar.

-

Rowan was mesmerized.

The moment Aelin Ashryver Galathynius started dancing was the moment he lost his mind.

He hated her for it, hated her for being the first thing anyone looked at when they entered a room. Hated her for being the most attractive woman he had seen in a while.

She had been raised to become this. Well, not to become a barmaid in a piss-poor bar in Doranelle. But to become the type of woman everyone looked at, everyone wanted.

With Evalin Ashryver as her mother, how could Aelin become something else? Her mother was an incredible actress, and one of the most famous ones. She was also known for being cunning, ambitious, and beautiful as a sin.

And with Rhoe Galathynius as her father, Aelin knew how to captivate an audience. Rhoe was a legend of football. Whenever he played, all eyes were on him. He was smart and as cunning as his wife, a perfect match if you listened to the papers. That’s probably why he was a coach now, and that’s also why his team almost always won.

So Aelin was born with amazing genes, a talent to bewitch everyone who looked at her, and a bank account bigger than anyone should have. That’s why he didn’t understand why she would be working here and living with five guys instead of just having a big apartment in the richest part of town. But Aedion had told everyone to never mention her parents, so they all listened. Everyone was careful to do just that, maybe because Lysandra had threatened to cut their favorite body part and to make them eat it if they ever mentioned Rhoe’s or Evalin’s name. All that the day they met her when she was one month away from turning eighteen.

Now this she-devil had him under her spell. He couldn’t stop looking at the way her hips moved perfectly on beat with the music, at the way her hands wandered over her stomach, the side of her breast, and then lifted her hair in the air. Or even at how close she was to her friend, the one who is apparently interested in Lorcan. Both of them were giving a show, and when Rowan finally looked away from the blonde it was to find almost every man with their eyes on her. She knew what she was doing, he knew she did. It made him want to yell at her, even at work she couldn’t help but want attention.

Aelin turned her head, and their eyes met. Rowan sat straighter, swallowing. Her sinful mouth turned into a smirk and she accentuated her hips’ movements, aware of Rowan’s eyes on her. It was also something they did, along with arguing. They caught the other checking the other out, but wouldn’t call them on it. They would never bring it up, it was like a secret between them. He shouldn’t find the idea of sharing something with her so exciting.

She never stopped looking at him as she danced, sometimes she would bit her lip, sometimes her hands would wander on her breasts. He had to stop himself from growling as his cock hardened. Aelin was a sin.

Who did she think she was? He hated her, he made that clear. She hated him, and she had also made that clear. Why did she feel the need to tease him? She was trying to mess with him, and it was working.

The bubble broke when one of Aelin’s coworkers interrupted her, telling her and her friend she was dancing with to go back to work. Rowan couldn’t help but stare at her ass as she walked back behind the counter. He would have felt bad for it, wasn’t it for the slight sway of her hips and the look she threw at him when she started serving people again.

“I want her.” Lorcan almost grunted, and against his best wishes and even if they weren’t talking about the same girl, Rowan agreed.

-

Aelin wasn’t tired, no, tired wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she was feeling. It was almost three in the morning and her shift ended in one hour, thank god she wasn’t supposed to close the bar today.

A customer asked for another sex on the beach, his fourth of the night. Aelin smiled as she prepared it but decided it would be his last of the night. Rofle didn’t want his barmaids to stop clients from drinking because more drinking means more money. But all the money in the world wasn’t worth the customers’ life. She would never forgive herself if someone had a car accident or became an alcoholic because of the drink she served. She gave the drink and took the man’s car keys, saying she would call a cab when he wanted to leave.

Aelin’s phone started ringing and when she saw who was calling her she sighed. If she was tired now it would be worse by the end of the night.

“Hello,” She answered as she got into a cupboard to find some quiet.

“Hi, you’re Aelin Galathynius?” A deep male voice asked. From the tone of his voice, the man must be as exhausted as Aelin was.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Aelin already regretted picking up this gods damned phone.

“I’m sorry to bother you but a guy’s at my bar. He’s tall-”

“Yeah, I know exactly who it is. Let me guess, he is drunk and absolutely refuses to call a taxi because taxis are disgusting. He also told you to call me, didn’t he?”

“You got it all right.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Where’s your bar?” She nodded when he told her the address and told him she would be here in half an hour.

Aelin went to Elide, apologized, and asked her to cover the rest of her shift. Elide understood, it wasn’t the first time Aelin had to leave for the same reason. Elide was pissed but not because she had more work, but because she didn’t want Aelin to go.

Aelin took her car and drove, maybe a little slower than she should but it was night. Roads were dangerous, especially on a Saturday night. Aelin parked right in front of the sidewalk. She took her phone and wanted to text Aedion to tell him she would be late but her phone was dead. Amazing.

Aelin walked into the bar and realized she didn’t take time to change clothes, she was still in her uniform. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her chest as best as she could. Even if she had liked to have Rowan Whitethorn watching her tonight, she didn’t want anyone else to look at her this way.

It didn’t take long to see who had called Aelin, she walked toward him, the bartender looked relieved someone would come to pick him up. “I’m gonna take that.” She told him, and he gave her the car keys. Aelin turned her head to grey eyes watching her body, of course, he would notice her lack of clothing. “Let’s get you home,” Aelin said, trying her best not to let her anger out, it’s not going to help tonight.

“Hello, darling,” Arobynn purred.

tag list:

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @mx—spelled //

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass #fire on fire #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That��s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

#frat boy harry #frat boy au #frat boy fan fiction #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing

[baepsaesbae]

QuaranTime

Pairing— Kim Seokjin x reader x Min Yoongi  

Genre— SMUT like str8 up pwp

Warnings��� Double penetration, threesome, oral (f receiving), nipple  play, a butt slap, masturbation (male), unprotected sex, sensual themes in general

Word Count—  ~2.6k  

Summary— Bored and horny with your roommates during a social distancing period. What could go wrong?    

A/N— Hi everyone! I hope you’re all staying safe and healthy~ Here’s a little something that will hopefully help lift your mood. Please let me know what you think!                                

 Your roommates have always been competitive. That was one of the first things you noticed about them when you moved in. They competed to see who could help you move in the fastest (which was a blessing since you didn’t have to do any heavy lifting). Living with two random guys was an interesting thing to get used to, especially when they were already friends. It’s been a year since you moved in, and since then all three of you had gotten pretty close.

Now, due to the ongoing pandemic, everyone has been ordered to stay inside. It’s been months now, and you could swear you were all going insane. Playing board or card games always resulted in a sore loser (one or both of the boys). Day drinking had become such a common occurrence that even the thought of alcohol made you guys feel queasy, so that was out of the question now.

“Whoever does the next grocery trip can get puzzles?” you offered.

“You think I wanna do puzzles with Jin? That guy has no patience. I give him five minutes before he starts getting bored,” Yoongi scoffed.

“You WISH you lasted five minutes!” Jin childishly argued.

“We all know you’re a one pump chump,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

You observed them silently from the couch, doing your best not to smile. They’ve been your main source of entertainment during these trying times. Their bickering was comparable to cheesy reality TV shows.

“What are you laughing at over there?” Jin dragged you into the conversation.

“Can you guys make fun of each other’s sex lives later? Let’s get back to curing our current boredom,” you responded.

“We have too much testosterone built up right now. Let us yell at each other for a bit first,” Jin said before turning back to Yoongi, “I think it’s pretty obvious who gets the most action around here!”

“You don’t SEE the girls I bang because I go over to THEIR place like a GENTLEMAN,” Yoongi raised his voice.

“So what? Are you guys gonna jack off in front of each other to prove who can last the longest?” you laughed.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jin’s squeaky laugh filled the room, “Unless…” he shot a sideways glance at Yoongi.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m doing that,” Yoongi immediately dismissed the thought, “But ___...how are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fine. Online classes are weird but most of my professors are being super lenient so--”

“Not that,” he interrupted you, “You know…like uh...”

“He’s asking if you’re sexually frustrated,” Jin explained bluntly.

“Okay, I know I don’t get nearly as many dick appointments as you two but I make do,” you answered defensively.

“I may have an idea to settle our argument, but we’d need your help,” Yoongi tilted his head in contemplation.

“Are you guys both gonna fuck me?” you asked, now amused at the thought.

“Yes and no. If you’re okay with it, we’d be going at the same time. One in the front and one in the back. Unless you want both of us in the back, that part is up to you. Whoever cums first loses,” Yoongi explained.

“What does the winner get?” you try to mask your interest, it’s been so long since you’ve had any physical intimacy.

“They get to have fun with you all night long while the loser has to sit and watch,” Jin answered gleefully.

Both boys seemed to be completely on board with the idea. All they needed was for you to give them the green light.

“You guys are positive that things won’t be weird afterward?” you asked.

They both gave you their word. You took it with a grain of salt, knowing that neither of them have been laid in weeks. To be honest, you have been extremely horny lately. Living with two handsome guys wasn’t helping you. All rational thoughts were thrown out the window.

“I’d prefer one in the front and one in the back then,” you winked.

“Coin toss to see who’s where?” Yoongi suggested to Jin.

“Tails cuz I want that ass,” Jin answered with a smirk, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Dammit, tails,” Yoongi announced.

“Are we just going straight into this then?” you asked nervously.

“Don’t be silly. We’re gentlemen, foreplay is our middle name,” Jin took you by the hand and led you to Yoongi’s room, “It’s your idea, so we’re gonna use your room,” Jin said before Yoongi could complain.

They sat you on the bed, and that’s when things suddenly got awkward. All three of you stared at each other in silence, waiting for the first person to make a move. You were beginning to doubt your decision, and almost opened your mouth to call it off.

“Can I kiss you, ___?” Yoongi broke the silence.

“Uh, sure,” you agreed, scooting over to make space for him on the bed.

Yoongi shyly sat down beside you, showing you a side of him that you’ve never seen before. He softly brought his hand to your cheek as your eyes met. Your heart was racing, and you were sure Yoongi could hear it as he leaned in closer.

Meeting Yoongi in the middle was a dream come true. Admittedly, you’ve had a minor crush on both of them since you’ve moved in, but who could blame you?

Yoongi’s soft lips brushed up gently against yours. You found yourself melting into his palm as he continued to cup your face. The kiss was gentle and intimate, something you never wanted to end. Until you were abruptly yanked from Yoongi’s grasp.

“Hey what the fu--”

“My turn,” was all that Jin said before his lips crashed against yours.

Unlike Yoongi’s tender kiss, Jin kissed you with such a ferocious passion, it was almost as if you’d been dating and he hadn’t seen you in months. His hands immediately began to wander across your body, starting from your hips and working their way upward. You softly moaned into his mouth when his hands slid under your shirt to fondle your breasts. You yelped with surprise when he began to pinch and pull at your nipples.

“You’re so sensitive,” he chuckled, “This’ll be fun.”

“Stop hogging her,” Yoongi grumbled.

“Make me,” Jin challenged.

Yoongi yanked you away from Jin, and pushed you onto your back. His plush lips connected with your neck, aka your weak spot. You stifled a moan as he began to mix in small nibbles with his kisses.

“Take off your pants,” he ordered you, his dominance reemerging.

You shook off your pajama pants, revealing a plain pair of panties. You suddenly wished that you had gone to change into something sexier, and as such your body involuntarily shied away from Yoongi.

Jin pinned your legs down. He was about to kiss your stomach when Yoongi shooed him away. Jin was displeased but obeyed anyway, curious to see what the younger man would do. Yoongi kissed a trail down your neck, between your breasts, across your stomach, and finally settled at the top of your panties. He planted kisses on your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your pussy.

“Let’s get this off,” Jin focused your attention back on him as he tugged at your shirt.

“Then you guys have to take yours off too,” you huffed.

“Of course, princess,” Jin kissed your forehead, his sudden affection making you freeze.

He helped you take off your shirt, and in turn took his off afterward. You were about to make a comment on his physique when Yoongi flattened his tongue against your clothed core.

“Don’t ignore me,” Yoongi growled.

“Take off your shirt,” Jin reminded him.

“In due time, I don’t think she wants to wait any longer,” Yoongi said as he pulled aside your panties.

He licked up from your entrance to your clit. His tongue teased your clit in slow circles, causing you to moan. You covered your mouth in embarrassment, but Jin swatted your hand away.

“Don’t ignore me either,” he whispered as his lips once again connected with yours.

Jin played with your nipples as his mouth collided with yours. His kisses were wet and messy, but you didn’t care. You were lost in ecstacy. Yoongi’s mouth was heaven sent; every flick of his tongue had you moaning into Jin’s mouth. You gasped when he stuck a finger inside, curling to hit your g-spot.

“I think she’s ready,” Yoongi cockily stated.

“You ready for us baby?” Jin asked sweetly.

A simple head nod was all you could give them without getting too flustered. You couldn’t believe that you were in this situation. You were roughly flipped over onto your stomach before you could think too much about it.

The boys tugged off their pants and positioned themselves on either side of you. You looked up at Yoongi with anticipation. The moment he looked down and saw you, his cheeks reddened and he had to look away.

“You can take it out...if you want,” Yoongi muttered.

You didn’t hesitate to tug down his underwear, revealing his thick dick. You began to salivate on sight, you’ve never seen such a pretty cock before. You got closer to lick it when a sharp pain stung your ass.

“We have to go at the same time. Bad girl,” Jin admonished.

You felt him run his cock against your wet pussy, teasing you even more.

“Wait, shit. I should go get a condom,” Jin groaned in frustration.

“Just pull out,” you said softly.

“What?” the boys asked in unison with disbelief.

“I’m on the pill so it should be fine. I mean, as long as you’re both clean I’m okay with you guys pulling out,” you clarified.

“You sure?” Jin asked.

You nodded again.

“Alright then. Should I go get a timer?” Jin asked Yoongi.

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Please, I just want her to suck me off already,” Yoongi grew impatient.

“Fine, fine. In 3, 2, 1,” Jin counted down.

The boys entered you in perfect harmony. Jin’s long dick penetrated you deeply, and the curvature of his dick allowed him to graze your g-spot with every stroke. Yoongi let you take the lead as soon as the tip of his dick entered your mouth. He was worried about choking you, so he stood in place. Jin’s powerful thrusts made you gag on Yoongi’s cock anyway. Tears welled in your eyes as Yoongi hit the back of your throat.

There you were, being spitroasted between your roommates. Just the thought alone was enough to get you all riled up. Here you were, living your best life.

You did your best to flatten out your tongue to let Yoongi’s dick slide neatly in and out of your mouth. Unfortunately, Jin’s rough strokes had you moaning uncontrollably. Drool dribbled down your chin and there was nothing you could do about it. You looked up at Yoongi, only to find that his eyes were already set on you.

That did him in.

“Where should I cum? I’m gonna--oh fuck,” Yoongi stuttered as he unleashed his load into your mouth.

Jin was still thrusting, making Yoongi’s explosion even messier. Yoongi collapsed onto the bed beside you, defeated. Jin finally stopped moving and got off the bed.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked you.

You nodded after swallowing some of his cum. Jin came back with a warm washcloth and wiped off your face. He even handed you a glass of water. You were happy to see that his kindhearted nature was incorporated into every aspect of his life.

“No water for me?” Yoongi joked.

“No water for losers,” Jin said sternly, “Besides, the night is just getting started.”

You were flipped onto your back (which was a blessing, you were tired of having to prop yourself up with your arms). Jin smirked above you as his hand made a beeline down to your dripping pussy. He fiddled with your sensitive nub, making you squirm beneath him.

“You’re such a good girl, ___,” he cooed, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat you right.”

He inserted himself back in. Instead of resuming his rough pace from before, he took an agonizingly long time to bottom out. He used the same slow pace to pull out. You figured he was going to do it again, but you were wrong. This time, he opted to roll his hips into you. The sensation was different, and it allowed him to set a rhythm that was optimal for both of you. Judging by the high pitch of your moans, he figured you enjoyed it. He was absolutely right.

Yoongi moved to cup your face once more. He was leaning in to kiss you when Jin forcefully pushed him off the bed.

“Dude, what the he--”

“Losers don’t belong on the bed. They definitely don’t get to touch her for the rest of the night,” he snarled as he brought your knees by your ears.

This position let him hit even deeper, which you didn’t even think was possible. Again, he began to roll his hips. He leaned over to kiss you, forcing you to moan into his mouth.

“Hold your legs for me, princess,” Jin whispered.

You complied. As soon as his hands were free, one of them began to stimulate your clit. He went straight to rubbing you quickly, wasting no time in toying with you. It seemed as if he was desperate to make you cum before he did.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Yoongi sitting at his desk chair, his eyes fixated on you. His pretty hand was wrapped around his fat cock, pumping it quickly. It looked like he wanted to cum with you too. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, and his mouth was agape as he concentrated on you. Yoongi gave you a little smile when you looked over at him. This time, it was his turn to make you come undone. That, and of course Jin going to town on you.

“I’m c-coming,” you announced as your body spasmed.

Jin helped you ride out your orgasm, his hand quickened over your clit. The extra stimulus made you squirt all over him, something you’ve never done in your life. Once he was sure that you’ve come down, Jin quickly went to jack himself off over you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he panted before he splattered all over your chest.

Again, Jin went to go get a warm washcloth. In his absence, Yoongi quickly made his way onto the bed to cuddle you. He was the big spoon, and he brought you in close to his chest.

“Did you cum again?” you giggled as you asked.

“I did. Don’t look at my underwear. It was the quickest thing I could grab to clean myself off before Jin came back,” he answered.

“Dude, my cum is still all over her,” Jin said when he got back.

Yoongi just shrugged and kissed your cheek as Jin wiped you off.

“Guess I’m the little spoon then,” Jin said as he wiggled his way into the cuddle session, “Did you enjoy it, ___?” he inquired.

“I did. Maybe a little too much. I’ve never squirted before,” you admitted.

“I can always make you do it again,” Jin laughed.

“I can do it too,” Yoongi chimed in.

“You think you can do that? You can’t even last in her mouth!” Jin mocked.

“You would’ve cum first too if you were in my position!” Yoongi yelled back.

“Looks like you guys have another argument to settle,” you joked, trying to join in the teasing.

“Bet,” Jin said.

“Oh, you’re so on,” Yoongi sneered.

They agreed that the new bet is to be settled at the same time, different place (Jin’s room) tomorrow. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your isolated days like this.

Published September 18th, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #min yoongi smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bts fanfic #bts pwp #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim seokjin x reader #bayanihanboost #jin fic #yoongi fic #jin smut #yoongi smut

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

Three 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships 

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w) 

Tagging: @lauraneuuh​

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun 

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less. 

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find. 

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges. 

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop. 

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion. 

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink. 

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?” 

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.” 

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.” 

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.” 

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.” 

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt. 

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign. 

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite. 

“Spicy...but good.” 

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.” 

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to. 

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.” 

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.” 

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly. 

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?” 

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.” 

“Windows?” He cocked a brow. 

“He did say that it was kind of boring...” 

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.” 

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.” 

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted. 

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“Hm. Thanks.” 

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.” 

“You like those tater tots too though.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it. 

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly. 

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation: 

~ 

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad 

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi. 

Bomi: 

Blaze: 

*now kiss* 

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe 

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through  

~ 

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph. 

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.” 

Chapter 27 

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days. 

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before. 

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty. 

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles. 

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins. 

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.” 

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?” 

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?” 

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.” 

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.” 

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes. 

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--” 

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.” 

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out. 

“Its just...what I like to do.” 

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?” 

“Oh...” 

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself. 

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.” 

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.” 

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?” 

“What kind of deal?” 

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.” 

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.” 

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?” 

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.” 

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.” 

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript. 

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?” 

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.” 

“Alright then!!” 

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.” 

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.” 

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN. 

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry. 

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with. 

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach. 

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store. 

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--” 

“Hey! Blossom??” 

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain. 

“You okay?” 

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small. 

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair. 

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck. 

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.” 

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you. 

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.” 

“You’re fine, it’s fine.” 

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine. 

“What are you doing around here?” 

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden. 

“Ahh, I just got off.” 

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind. 

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.” 

“Oh. It’s Y/n.” 

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.” 

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so. 

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?” 

“Cat. Just one.” 

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.” 

“How's that?” 

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.” 

“I...guess I can see what you mean.” 

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much. 

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.” 

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“You don’t have to...” 

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it. 

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door. 

“You coming?” He held it open for you. 

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster. 

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.” 

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles. 

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances. 

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead. 

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor. 

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant. 

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor. 

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips. 

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that. 

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over. 

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good. 

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary. 

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater. 

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric. 

“That probably would be best.” 

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place. 

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently. 

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.  

“How much longer?” 

“At least thirty more minutes.” 

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night. 

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been. 

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky. 

“Not really.” 

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?” 

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?” 

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.” 

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his. 

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced. 

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart. 

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.” 

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--” 

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...” 

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat. 

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.” 

This. 

What the hell was “this?” 

“I’m not following...” 

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.” 

 You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all. 

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.” 

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one. 

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper. 

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes. 

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.” 

“W-why?” 

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.” 

“Minho...what are you saying?” 

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”  

“I-I’m so sorry.” 

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...” 

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“You do?” 

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves. 

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...” 

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable. 

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?” 

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it. 

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust. 

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm. 

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.” 

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could. 

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud. 

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.   

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.” 

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids drabbles #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #Lee Minho fanfic #Minho fanfic #Lee Minho imagines #Minho imagines #skz minho fanfic #skz minho fanfiction #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop one shots #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #lee minho x y/n #Lee Minho smut #Minho smut

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. five)

a/n: OKAY, now that this series has been reposted I can finally get to the new part that’s been living in my head since i started this series and i hope you guys love it as much as i do

Four - Six

It was one picture.

It was one, stupid Snapchat that you sent in a moment of weakness. One picture of your ass in a pair of panties that you know made it look incredible. So you took it, and you made sure to send it to Mat, who was in Florida road trip. Mat, however, hasn’t let it go since. Mat didn’t let it go when you sent it, giving you a compliment followed by a cocky text about you must have been thinking about him. Mat didn’t let it go the next day, when he sent you a picture of his backside with a stupid caption that it was his turn. He was convinced it meant something, he wasn’t sure what but it was something.

Did it mean anything? At first, you thought it didn’t. Mat was fun to flirt with, his compliments were always a little out there but they were starting to grow on you. When you realized that, you thought maybe it did mean something. He was gone, and you knew what a night off with a bunch of overgrown children could be like. Mat was probably out at some club with overpriced alcohol and beautiful girls who were out of even Mat’s league. You weren’t usually jealous, especially not of another woman because you always lived by the idea that men were trash and they’d cheat anyways. Mat was just the same, there was no reason for you to think otherwise.

“All I’m saying, is that if you sent me that picture, there had to have been a reason,” Mat argues, leaning against his kitchen counter, “I’m not complaining, I just wanted to point out that you were thinking about me.”

“I wasn’t,” You scoff, coming to your own defense instantly instead of just admitting that you were, “How do you know I didn’t send that to everyone else I’m hooking up with.”

“And who are you hooking with exactly? Because I know your schedule is busy as hell,” Mat says smugly, walking over to you and lifting you onto his counter, “Can’t you just admit you like me a little bit? No bullshit.”

“No bullshit, I can’t stand you,” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers run through his hair, “You just happen to be exceptional in bed.”

“I’ll take it,” Mat mutters into your neck, “So we fucking now or what?”

“One thing,” You start, pulling his head from the crook of your neck where he seemed to make himself the most comfortable, “You need to keep your mouth shut tomorrow night.”

The day had been circled on your calendar for weeks. It was the second game the Rangers were set to play against the Islanders, at home where you’d run into Mat for the first time you remembered. You didn’t not trust Mat, he’d never given you an actual reason aside from the fact that he lived to irritate you enough into taking your clothes off. You didn’t necessarily trust him either, especially when you knew how intense he could get on the ice. The last thing you needed was for him to say something to one of the guys who you were friends with, let alone the group of dumbasses on the team you couldn’t stand. Mat existed to you in a bubble, the walls of his apartment were the only place you’d let your guard down with him even a little bit, and if he couldn’t keep it to himself all of this was going to crumble in front you.

“I’ll be on my best behavior princess.”

“I thought we agreed that nickname was dead?”

“Suddenly, I can’t hear.”

***

Madison Square Garden was buzzing, and Mat could even admit that to himself. He should be more fired up, a rivalry game on a Saturday night would have him flying on the ice during warm ups to get himself amped up to play - especially in enemy territory.  But, Mat was distracted, because all he ever thought about anymore was you.

You were standing by the benches, scrolling through your phone and talking to Chris. Mat was as close to the bench as he could get without being suspicious, stretching on the ice and using it as an excuse to keep his eyes on you.

“Yeah, Y/N’s hot, but she’s such a bitch-” Mat overheard the voice from someone on the opposing team. His head snapped into the direction of DeAngelo, who Mat knew you couldn’t stand to be around, “Plus she gets around so much, why would anyone want that?”

Mat took three deep breaths, trying to keep his focus on the game and that stupid promise that he’d be on his best behavior. He didn’t need to defend you, Mat knew that, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to punch that fucking idiot square in the jaw.

You were mean, cold and you insulted Mat every second you got. You had walls that were way too high and attitude like no other. Mat refused to believe that made you a bad person. You were nice to strangers, you tipped way too generously, and he liked you. It was so childish, the crush he was hiding from you when every night you were both in New York was spent between the sheets. Technically, he had you, but not in the way he was starting to realize he wanted.

The game was a blur as far as Mat was concerned. He snapped one to the back of the net, a cocky smile on his face because he knew you were watching. It wasn’t until he knew the Islanders had this game in the bag that he started to think about what he heard during warm ups.

So he hit him.

Mat left the game with a fighting major, bloody knuckles, and not one ounce of guilt. He definitely hit too hard, and one too many times according to Trotz who was about to pop a blood vessel while he gave it to him after the game. None of the looks or lectures he got could compare to the daggers he was receiving from you when he made his way to the exit after the game.

“I swear I did it for a reason,” Mat defends instantly, hoping he could just talk you down a little bit.

“I don’t believe you,” You mutter, crossing your arms and taking a deep breath, “I’m not talking about this here.”

“Come home with me then,” Mat suggests, but the look on your face screamed that you didn’t want to do that either, “At least let me take you home.”

After a minor debate about who’s apartment they’d be on their way to, you were sitting with your back turned to Mat in the back of a cab on it’s way to his place.

“Why did you hit him?”

The question slipped out of your mouth before you realized it did, breaking the silent treatment you’d been giving Mat. Mat sighs, taking a deep breath and leaning his head back on the seat.

“I don’t want to tell you,” Mat mumbles, tired eyes practically pleading you to not make him admit it.

“What did he say?” You ask, stepping out of the car and following Mat into his building. Mat went silent, prompting to ask him again.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Mat huffs out, and you immediately went silent. Mat never once raised his voice at you, even if you probably deserved for him to.

“Why not?” You push a little further, slipping into his place behind him.

Your question lit something up in Mat you’d never seen, passion, rage, whatever it was, it had him pinning you against the door with his breath hot on your neck, “It was about you and before you ask, no I won’t tell you because I fucking respect you.”

You crashed your lips to his the second he stopped talking, grabbing Mat by his neck and pulling him as closely as you could. Mat’s hands gripped your waist, tighter than he had before, “Mat, please.”

“Please what?” Mat asks, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin lightly because he knew how much you loved to hate it.

“Please fuck me,” You practically whimper out, a plead that was so weak and out of character Mat almost stopped you to do a wellness check.

Mat’s lips never left yours while you both stripped and walked into his bedroom, a trail of clothes left behind you. The back of your legs finally hit the bed, laying back and pulling Mat down with you by his chain. You felt Mat’s hand leave your thigh, rummaging around in his dresser for a condom and coming up empty.

“Shit,” Mat curses, the universe was giving a giant middle finger to him right now.

“It’s fine Mat, I’m on the pill,” You assure him, a little entertained while you watched him think about how he was going to get a condom in that moment, “I trust you, now please just ruin me.”

Mat chuckles, capturing your lips in an otherwise sweet kiss if he wasn’t letting his fingers slip under your panties, sliding them off and rubbing the head of his cock against your core, “You thought that fight was hot, didn’t you?”

Mat didn’t give you a chance to respond, sliding into you and closing his eyes so he could appreciate just how good you felt. Mat pins your hands above your head, tucking his head into yours so he could get as close to you as he could. 

“Mat, fuck,” you gasp out, trying to find a grip on anything while Mat pounded into you relentlessly. Your orgasm was quick, the sensation of Mat’s bare cock was too much and if you really wanted to dig your grave you would have told him that. His orgasm came in sync with yours while his hips sputtered and his spilled into you with a groan that was so animalistic it could have made you cum again. You thought he was done when he finally slipped out of you, off to clean you up so you could head out of there as quickly as you came.

“Mat, what are you doing?” You ask, dragging out of your words while you watched Mat pepper kisses down your body and stop at your pussy that was dripping with his cum and your own. 

“I just want a taste,” Mat moans, licking one stripe up your folds and flicking your clit with his tongue, smirking to himself when you threw your head back and whimpered, “Too much?”

“Don’t stop Mat,” You plead, and Mat dove face first into your pussy just the same way he’d done that night in the bar bathroom. Mat knew your body well enough by now, and he loved every part of it. He loved when your toes curled when you cum, he loved how you’d pull on his hair because he was just that good, and he liked when you chanted his name like a prayer when you had sex. He knew what made you tick and what definitely didn’t. And two more orgasms later he was laying his head on your stomach while you tried to catch your own breath.

“Good girl,” Mat mutters into your skin, his finger gently gliding up and down your thigh while he watched the aftershocks of your orgasm cause your legs to shake, “Just stay Y/N, let me take care of you.”

“You’re barely able to take care of yourself,” You mutter, tucking your head into the pillow, “But I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl,” Mat whispers, tossing you one of his t-shirts, one that was soft like it’d been of his favorites.

“Watch it Barz,” You whisper, letting yourself warm up against Mat while he pulls you against his chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I was thinking about you that night too,” Mat whispers into your shoulder, even though he was sure you were asleep. He tightened his grip on you, as if he was afraid to let you slip through his fingers.

And Mat swore, he saw you smile after the words left his mouth.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #my writing

[imaginesupply]

Homecoming - Chapter Seven

(Gif's not mine.)

I am so sorry for only posting this chapter when Christmas is already over. I lost my initial draft and it was difficult to find time for writing since this season means lots of family time for me.

Anyway, I hope you'll still enjoy this last chapter. Previous chapters can be found on my Masterlist, just follow the link.

Chapter Seven 

Chapter warnings: Smut (mild), alcohol consumption (very mild). I think that’s it.

Ada grinned to herself as she slid under the white cotton bedcovers. It wasn't every day that she woke up before the Captain and she intended to make the most of it.

Kneeling on the mattress between his outstretched legs, she bent forward and licked the underside of his proud morning erection, from the base to the soft, pink glans where she made sure to trace the small slit. Sy's hips bucked up and his cock twitched in response, a soft moan escaping his parted lips, but he didn’t wake up just yet. Ada pouted for a moment - she wasn't feeling too patient this morning, not after the dream she had had.

This time, she grabbed his erection firmly at its base and proceeded to take him as deeply in her mouth and throat as her gag reflex would allow, hollowing her cheeks and humming softly.

His reaction was instant. His body went rigid and Sy sat up at once, a glazed look on his soft blue eyes. "Fuck, Ada!" He cursed loudly, carding a hand through his hair as he lifted the covers to look underneath.

His wife merely hummed around his cock, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Sy moved a hand to her cheek, caressing her skin with his thumb and feeling the outline of his cock inside her mouth. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply. "Come up here, I want to kiss you," he rasped, surprising himself with his own words when her mouth felt so heavenly around him.

Ada pulled her head back with a slight pop and scooted forward, straddling his strong thighs. They shared a kiss before her lips moved to hover by the shell of his ear. "Happy three-year anniversary of our first meeting," she whispered smugly. No, she had not forgotten.

Sy laughed, draping one large hand over the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him, her wet folds sliding over his cock in the process and making them both freeze for a second, caught up in the sensation. "Guess I hit the Jackpot three years ago."

Ada chuckled and began to roll her hips against his. The friction felt too good on her clit to stop. "Pity you didn't hit the Jackpot in Vegas," she teased lightly, her hand moving to his shoulder for balance as she raised herself on her knees before slowly impaling herself on his cock. Ada gasped quietly as Sy buried a moan against her neck, his beard grazing her skin.

"If memory serves, I did hit the Jackpot in Vegas when I married you," he murmured.

Ada laughed lightly, her walls rhythmically clenching around his cock. "Stop being so sweet and fuck me already."

For all his natural authority, the Captain did know how to follow an order, especially when it came from his wife. With her holding on to his shoulders for leverage as she rode him, Sy found his head nuzzling her cleavage, his beard leaving the skin of her breasts raw and sensitive. Neither seemed to mind.

All too soon, Sy lost his patience and wrapped an arm around his wife's middle. He began a punishing pace, making her cry out in the mixture of pain and sweet rapture.

The doorbell rang just as they were catching their breaths, still dizzy with bliss. Sy groaned loudly, rolling his eyes. "Is this becoming a trend now?!"

Ada laughed at his reaction, disentangling herself from him. "So, it seems," she chuckled. "Go see who it is."

Sy huffed next to her. "Why should I be the one going?" After all, he had been the one who had let Tom in when he had come over for dinner.

Cocking a brow at him, Ada's voice turned mischievous. "I don't mind getting the door. But I'll go naked with your cum running down my inner thighs."

He glared at her dumbfounded, but nothing indicated that she was joking. With a sigh, Sy got off the bed and put on a pair boxer briefs, pointing an accusatory finger at her as he walked out of their bedroom. "That shit's not funny."

°°°

Ada picked up the small envelope that came attached to the wicket basket that had been delivered by a deli, a smile spreading on her face as she read the message.

"It's from Tom," she announced. "He wishes us a merry and delicious Christmas."

“Why is it that anytime the bell rings at the worst moment, Tom’s always implicated.” Still, Sy looked impressed as he started taking out the various foods from the basket. There was all you needed for a copious brunch and even a cold bottle of champagne and orange juice to make mimosas.

Ada got up from bed to grab the plastic goblets where they kept their toothbrushes in from the bathroom. Drinking mimosas in those would be a first but she really didn't want to walk downstairs. When she got back in the bedroom, Sy was already munching on a warm cinnamon roll. "What did we get Tom for Christmas?" He asked with his mouth full.

Ada rolled her eyes, climbing back on the bed. "We," she said, stressing out the word as she looked pointedly at her husband, "gave him a perfectly preserved 1925 Underwood typewriter and had it delivered to his parents' house in Wiltshire two weeks ago already."

Sy swallowed the rest of the pastry. "We are very good and generous friends, indeed," he jested, trying to imitate Tom's British accent.

They ate and drank lazily in bed. With a full belly, Ada had half a thought to take a nap – she had exerted herself this morning after all - but it was noon already and she still had lots to do.

"What time does your mom want us over?"

"Seven o'clock is the official time but she's probably expecting us much earlier to help with the cooking and the baking."

Ada bit her lip. Sy wasn't going to like this. "I won't be able to make it before seven. I've got errands to run."

Sy sighed in response. "If you want to avoid them because of the sex tape thing-" He was interrupted when she hit him with the pillow.

"It's not about that but thank you very much for reminding me of it right when I had finally managed to stop thinking about it." She laughed, gulping down the rest of her mimosa to help with the remaining mortification.  

Leaning forward to kiss her, Sy stopped just before their lips could touch. "I expect you at seven o'clock at the latest, Mrs. Syverson." He warned before finally landing a peck on her lips. "And if that errand of yours is to find me a gift, I wouldn't mind a new desk chair to play the console."

Ada barked a laugh. "Did you really think I would leave it until Christmas Eve to get your gift? Let me tell you, Sy, I got you the ultimate present."

He cocked an eyebrow. Was that a challenge? After all, he had stayed up very late three nights in a row to organize her gift. After all the care packages she had put so much thought in while he was away, Sy really intended to surprise her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure yours won't beat mine, darlin'."

She looked pensive for a second and then stretched out her hand, smirking. "Wanna bet on it?"

Sy chuckled, throwing back his head against the pillow before finally nodding. "As you wish, darlin'. May the most thoughtful gift win."

°°°

The airport had always felt like a real maze to her and the unusual hordes of people really weren't helping. Apparently, a snowstorm had taken over the entire East coast and tons of flights had been either cancelled or delayed.

Ada groaned as she tried to find a path between the crowds. This would have been so much easier if Sy had been there with her - people had a tendency to naturally move out of his way. Eventually, Ada gave up and took off her high heels, deciding to walk barefoot instead. She was already dressed for the Christmas Eve dinner since she knew she'd be cutting it short and it was unlikely she'd have time to get changed later.

When her phone rang, she fished it out of her pocket and took the call without looking at the screen, cursing under her breath. If she didn’t get to the counter in time before it closed, her gift would fall through. "Yes?"

There were some rushed whispers from the other end of the line, but she couldn't make out a single word with the loud ambient noise. "I can't hear you."

"Please tell me you're not leaving! On Christmas of all days!"

Ada stopped in her tracks, a frown taking over her face. What the fuck was going on? "Madie, calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

"Then why are you at the airport?!" Madie retorted, her voice a stressed whisper.

"How do you even know I'm -" Right. She had forgotten she'd given her sister-in-law the ability to track her phone a few years ago when she was still new to the city and afraid of getting lost somewhere. "Never mind." Ada interrupted, shaking her head. "Look, I will be there tonight. I am simply running a little late. Is Sy okay?"

"I - He - Urgh!" Madie groaned in frustration through the phone. "He's in the kitchen with mom, they're making cookies. Sy was worried about you because he thought you would have been here by now. Something about it not taking ages to buy a desk chair."

"Did you tell him where I was?" Ada asked, cutting off her sister-in-law. She had finally arrived at the right counter.

"No! God, no! I didn't want to worry him."

"Good. Don't tell him. I'll be there in two hours, give or take."

"Two hours?! Ada no-"

She had already hung up and slid her phone back in her pocket. Plastering the biggest smile on her face, Ada walked up to the lady at the counter. "Hello. I'm Ada Syverson. Please forgive me for being late."

°°°

The quick stop at the store had been hell. Why there were still so many doing their Christmas shopping on the 24th at six in the afternoon, was beyond her. Admittedly, she was there as well but it was simply because Sy would have found it if she had purchased it sooner. Frantically, Ada rubbed her hands over her dress and coat, trying to remove as she waited for someone to open the door.

Helen’s house appeared to have been fully decorated for the season. Luke and Elaine excitedly grabbed Ada hands and dragged her inside before she could even remove her thin coat, proud to show her the table they had helped decorate. It was a nice, festive table indeed, and Ada decided not to point out that cutlery was put in the wrong order. Apparently, her parents were the only ones absolutely pedantic about that.

Sy came running to her with a plate of cookies in his hand. "I made them!" He announced, showing off the Christmas treats as if they were precious jewels.

Before Ada could grab one, Madie appeared behind him, playfully slapping the back of his head. "He might have made the cookies, but I decorated them. I want credit for my work."

Ada rolled her eyes at their siblings’ antics and picked up a cookie, humming appreciatively just to elicit a proud grin from her husband. The fact that they tasted this good didn’t leave a doubt that Helen has kept a close eye on him.

"You made it on time after all, darlin'," Sy pointed out.

Ada ran her tongue over her lips, catching the crumbles. "There was not much traffic," she replied, electing not to mention her excessive speeding.

Dinner was a cheerful affair. Phil mostly kept them entertained with stories of dumb, sometimes rude, customers from the hardware store. When dessert eventually rolled around, Helen thanked everyone for being there, tearing up. It was the first time in years that the family was fully reunited for Christmas and she wished her late husband could have been there with them.

When it got to midnight, Ada learned that the Syversons had a special Santa Claus conception that they taught the kids: Santa did exist, but he only brought gifts to less fortunate children whose families were unable to provide presents for Christmas. If a child was lucky enough that their family could afford gifts, they each had to donate a present to a charity. Joshua had accompanied Elaine and Luke to do so this morning.

They had long finished exchanging gifts and the kids were already playing with their new toys, yet Ada was still going over the binder on her lap, tears in her eyes. Sy had planned this meticulously. He had even made sure she got two weeks off in February and that they would have the same car waiting for them in Vegas so they could do their West coast road trip in the Camaro they had driven to Vegas the first time. 1811km from Las Vegas to Seattle – she couldn’t wait!

She was so enthralled by her gift, she hardly even noticed Sy squeezing her shoulders or Josh calling her name. "I'm sorry, what?" Ada blurted out, jumping up when Sy decided to tickle her to finally get her attention.

"I was asking whether you'd forgotten to get Jack something?" Her brother-in-law teased gently, making her realize that everyone had already exchanged gifts and she hadn't even noticed.

Ada laughed. "I didn't forget. It... It's just not something I could give him here," she replied, attempting to stay vague but it sent the wrong message and she saw Madie chuckle, looking away with a knowing smirk.

"Oh, it's something naughty, then?" Josh asked playfully and Ada swore she could almost physically feel the daggers Helen was staring at her. First, the sex tape and now this, she was slowly getting afraid of what his family would think of her at this rate.

Sy cut off the teasing with a sharp and stern 'hey' in Josh's direction who immediately raised his hands in defeat, much to his Luke's amusement.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Sy leant down over Ada’s shoulders and whispered in her ear, smirking. "Is it? Something naughty, I mean."

Ada turned back at once, still sitting on the floor between his legs. Sy had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. "Not everything has to be naughty, you know," she chided light-heartedly, but Sy only laughed, until she pinched his thigh.

"Ada, will you come help me with the dishes?" Helen called from the other side of the room, startling her.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Ada silently pleaded Sy for help. The kitchen wasn't a big enough room for both Helen and her to come out alive. Yet, instead of getting her out of this, like any good husband would – might she add – Sy merely gave her an equally encouraging and bemused look.

Sighing, Ada got up on her feet and followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen. She grabbed a rag and awkwardly stood by the sink, waiting for Helen to hand her the clean dishes. They worked in silence, Ada carefully drying off the glasses, lest she have the bad luck of breaking something.

"I wanted to apologize," Helen said out of the blue.

Ada was caught by surprise. "What?" She blurted out before composing herself and shaking her head. "Excuse me, what?"

Helen sighed, drying her hands before turning to her. "I am sorry, Ada. For the way I've treated you."

"Oh." She gasped. Miracles did happen on Christmas then. Ada wasn't sure what to say. "It's okay."

The older woman frowned at her reaction. "Don't you want to know the reason?" Ada shrugged slightly. She was happy enough with the apology as it was. "I disliked you from the first moment because you were the reason my Jack missed Christmas with the family three years ago. It was the first time he was home for the holidays since he had been deployed."

Ada nodded slowly. Well, she could understand that. "Then my late husband slowly managed to convince me to give you a chance. He said that Jack wouldn't just marry any random girl," Helen paused, smiling briefly. "Well, on your first birthday here in Austin, I came by your house to drop off a gift and ask if maybe you wanted to go out for dinner. Once I got there, I saw you were already having dinner with someone else. A man. It looked like you were fun, and I naturally, perhaps foolishly, assumed the worst."

Ada opened her mouth, wanting to say that it was just Tom, but Helen silenced her with a wave of her hand. The woman had authority, it ran in the family apparently "A few weeks later, I saw you at the movies with the same man. That only confirmed my suspicions. I never told anyone, least of all Jack, because I didn't want to see him hurt, especially while he was still in Iraq but I was never able to move away from that."

"The man you saw me with is Tom. He's a good friend-,” Ada quickly explained as soon as her mother-in-law had finished talking.

Helen smiled, nodding softly. "Jack told me about Tom today. Said you three had dinner together, that Tom a kind man, and that the two of you were just friends."

"Well, it's true," she chipped in quickly.

"I believe you." Helen reassured Ada with a squeeze to her shoulder before heading back to the living room where the family was gathered.

Ada remained in the kitchen for a few seconds more, surprised by the turn of events but just as thankful.

°°°

"Nervous?" Sy inquired in the car, quickly glancing at her before moving his eyes back to the road.

Her brows furrowed. "What? Why would I be nervous?"

"You're biting your nails and checking your phone every few seconds." Sy told her, just as smug smile started taking over his face. "If it's about the gift, don't worry, darlin’. I know you couldn't possibly come up with a better gift than the one gave you."

Ada scoffed indignantly. "Let's see if your smugness remains once you see her."

"Her?" Sy asked just as she groaned at herself. Why had she let that slip? He laughed heartedly. "Darlin', Rihanna could be waiting for us at home for a private concert and it still wouldn't top my gift."

It was Ada's turn to laugh. "Perhaps not, but I'd definitely top her!"

°°°

“So, where is it?” Sy inquired as soon as they had made it through the threshold, looking around the ground floor to see if there was something new or unusual.

Even Ada was surprised nothing looked amiss. Her friend, Lily, also a volunteer from the animal shelter and who did not celebrate Christmas, had stayed over most of the evening and miraculously managed to keep the house intact. “Your present is in the study upstairs.” She told Sy, watching bemused as he quickly discarded his shoes to head upstairs.

“If you did get me a desk chair after all, I’ll kill you for all this suspense,” he threatened her playfully, landing a small kiss on her cheek before rushing up the stairs.

With a knowing smile, Ada leaned against the wall, waiting for Sy to open the door. Five seconds later, her husband’s excited voice reached her ears.

“Aika!”

The German Shepherd barked cheerfully in response. Despite the carpet flooring, she could hear the pitty-patter of the dog’s paws on the floor. Yes, they had both aced the challenge, Ada mused as she hung up her coat and took off her shoes. She grinned, shaking her head softly with amusement when she listened to Sy giving Aika the grand tour of the house upstairs.

"This is the bathroom. As you can smell, it ain't stinky like in Baqubah."

"Bedroom here. If you're real nice to mama, she might let you sleep here."

"The walk-in closet. Please don't come here a lot because you’ll get fur everywhere."

She looked up once she sensed them coming closer in the hallway upstairs. As soon as they appeared on the stairs, Ada started laughing at the sight. Sy was caring the German Shepherd in his arm like he would a toddler and Aika really seemed to be enjoying it.

"Be careful with the stairs, it's slippery 'cause of the varnish," Sy told the dog very seriously, sporting an authoritative frown before he caught sight of wife and smiled broadly, almost skipping over the last few steps.

"This is your mama," Sy introduced her, bringing the dog close enough to her face so that Aika could lick her cheek. Ada grimaced, making Sy scoff. "She's a bit uppity, but she's the best," he playfully whispered into the dog’s ear, as if sharing a great secret.

“Aika and I got acquainted in the car when I drove us home from the airport,” she told him, petting the dog’s snuff.

Sy finally set Aika down and she promptly ran off, exploring the ground floor and more specifically, the couch.

"I never thought you'd let me get a dog," Sy admitted, the grin still not leaving his face even as he leant down to kiss his wife. "Didn't even think you liked them."

Ada pulled back, looking offended. "I literally volunteer at the animal shelter weekly!"

"I know, darlin'. Just thought you would rather get a cat or a parrot, or something more Ada-ish."

She chuckled. Truth was she was still keen on getting a cat but now she'd have to find one that would get on with Aika.

Something weird in her peripheral vision caught her attention now that the lights were on, making her turn her head. "Is her fur... stained green?" It was the first time she’d had a good look at the dog under a bright light.

Sy laughed, clasping her shoulders. "Yes. Green dog means good dog. It’s a long story."

°°°

This is it. I hope you enjoyed the series. Thank you for reading!

I wish you a very happy New Year!

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1​ @madbaddic7ed​ @coffeebreathy​ @purplelove75​ @summersong69​ @helenaellie​ @rn7rocks​

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 31

First time reader click here

it's a mental breakdown *off-key kazoo*. One (1) incident of physical abuse from a parent. And Stephen Strange arc begins opening. Kind of angsty, but more of a filler chapter to resolve the parents-suck thing.

A couple of days was all it took for me to get back on my feet... Figuratively speaking. Neither Bruce nor Tony was particularly excited about me being up and about, I was carried to my desired destination point by one or the other on most occasions. Physically, my body grew tired very easily - I took a lot of sporadic naps throughout the day, more often than not falling asleep in someone's arms. Nobody minded, really - even Loki, who wasn't a touchy-feely person by any means, relented and acted as a body pillow for me when we crashed on the common room couch to catch up with the TV show episodes I'd missed.

Tony was very obviously on the verge of a nervous breakdown. During the few hours I had spent being chased by the Cursed Box Demon in my nightmares, all the leads towards the contractor proved to be cold. Natasha was the most irritated of them all - a late-night talk with Clint through the vent above my room revealed that she took it as a personal insult, unprepared for a simple merc to be so good at evading the world's most notorious spy.

Hulk kept taking over Bruce's body - eyes shining fluorescent green - at the times we were together, periodically clutching me to his chest with clumsy but careful movements. I pitied the mercenary should he encounter my gentle scientist - I didn't think Bruce would even attempt to hold back Mean Green. They seemed to have achieved some sort of symbiosis those days, switching between the two personalities in one body almost effortlessly. Circumstances aside, I was very happy that the tension and the persistent internal conflict inside Bruce had almost disappeared.

What made me upset was Strange. The sorcerer was behaving, well, strangely. He began avoiding all of us - his excuses of helping the search for the merc were flimsy, and Wong's long, deep sigh, when asked about the sorcerer's state of mind, spoke volumes. I suspected Stephen was either seething with anger or drowning himself in the sea of guilt; I had a hunch he was similar to Tony in a way that he hid his vulnerability behind an impenetrable wall of malice and sarcasm and dry wit.

Perhaps I was wrong. But the pent up frustration resulting from the conflict between my overactive brain and my uncooperative body had to blow - and my mother was the fire to my already short fuse. Somehow, she got ahold of the information that I was hurt indirectly because of the actions of the Avengers - and she had called the first available phone she found, which meant Pepper Potts got an earful of vitriol regarding Stark Industries, SHIELD, Tony, and everyone else, including my father. Stoic as she was, Pepper took it all with grace, replying politely to my mother until she hung up on the redhead.

Pepper placed an urgent call to Coulson immediately after that, making the already uncomfortable situation spiral into something truly disgraceful. It ended with strict orders for me to return home - not that anyone besides me and Coulson knew about it. I was a legal adult, I could choose to stay in the tower and my mother was told so on numerous occasions... Knowing her, I was well aware she wouldn't be above storming Tony's home with a small army of her lawyer friends.

Inwardly seething, melting with the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach like a sharp piece of ice, I managed to convince Tony to have Happy escort me home at the guise of gathering more necessities. Tony, being Tony, offered me to buy anything and everything I needed, but relented under my puppy-eyed pleading. It was getting harder and harder to lie to any of my men, the weight of it settling unpleasantly bitter on top of my already foul mood.

Happy grumbled in displeasure at being tailed by a nondescript black SUV - I knew SHIELD would have eyes on me 24/7 now, at least until they catch the rogue mercenary - but seemed to be happy at my general state of relative wellness in his own... Happy... way. Five-second side-grin and "Glad you're up and about, Princess," was probably the most I was going to get from the man who's nickname contradicted his personality. In my humble opinion, he should've been called Brick instead. He was built like a shit house, too.

The moment I stepped into the living room, wearing Wanda's spare sweats and Tony's hoodie, I took a slow look around the room and immediately knew this was it. Most of my anger had receded, courtesy of finally being able to get out of the tower and do something, but the ice in my stomach persisted. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hit me like a wall, news playing on the TV doing very little to dissolve the viscid, tense silence.

"Sit down," My mother instructed me in the tone of voice she used on people in the courtroom - convicts, people who knowingly broke NDAs.

"I don't think so," I replied, refusing to give in to her bullying. I was being absolutely reckless, I knew it, and still it didn't stop me from standing up for my men. Logically speaking, it could have happened to me anyway, Avengers or not. The cursed box came along long before I'd even met Peter Parker or any of his rag-tag superhero friends.

"Fine," She turned around, steely eyes leveled on me. I was but a speck of dirt under her nails - for the first time in my life, I felt terrified of my mother. I knew what she was capable of. "Listen well, daughter of mine. I'm going to only repeat myself once," She started in that deceptively calm tone of hers. "You are to stop mingling with Stark and his... Company. Immediately. I do not want to hear any more of that Parker boy, either. You will not destroy your future and our family's legacy over some fling with a man twice your age. This little game has gone long enough and it's time for you to get back to reality."

The more she spoke, the higher my eyebrows rose. I was supposed to take orders from my own mother now? Something thin, something thin and crackling with electricity within me just snapped - like a live wire. The hairs on my nape stood up, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. "And what if I do not?" I asked, just as quietly.

I was not prepared for her reaction. One second, she was sitting on the couch and the other - my cheek was burning and my mother was standing over me, breathing the stench of alcohol and tobacco right in my face. I saw the whites of her eyes. "Then you are no daughter of mine. I did not raise you to be someone's cumrag and all this play-pretend scientist shit had to have ended in middle school. I hoped you'd grow up but apparently, you insist on being a baby," She was full-on screaming in my face, so rabid she was shaking.

All I could think of was... How wrong she was. How wrong she would be, her sad little world broken when she finds out just exactly how much I'm capable of. Long gone were the days where I timidly questioned my scientific contributions; thanks to my men - the same men she'd hated so much - I knew my value. I knew I could achieve the things that I wanted.

"If that is your choice, you have thirty minutes to get your shit and get lost. I will not have a whore of a daughter living under my roof," I had missed a good part of her rant; most likely, it consisted of nothing but meaningless insults anyway. After she'd finished, she gave me a shove towards the stairs.

It didn't bother me as much as it should, I think. My cheek smarted and somewhere deep inside, I knew that the eerie calm that had settled over me wasn't normal - on the surface, I felt only relief. The things I suspected all along, finally came to light - she didn't even perceive me as a human being, I was no more than a means to her end. A tool. A thing.

The waterworks started when I frantically shoved most of the shit I could fit in my three suitcases. Upset as I was, my scatterbrain did me a favor that time and I gathered most of the important things. Notebooks full of my research - projects that my mother had called a child's game, projects that could be patented in a week, add a tweak or two. With sudden clarity, I realized I needed none of her money. None of her... At all. In short, I was emotionally all over the place and at the end of it... None of it made sense.

I threw the credit cards with her name on them on the coffee table as I hauled out my suitcases, not sparing the bitch a glance. She was equally quiet, boring into my back with those steely eyes of hers. I felt my skin peel under her stare. In my distraught state, hauling and dumping the suitcases in my car was quick work. Detaching the house key and tossing the last things that connected me to her house on the floor at her feet was a spur of the moment decision; my mother was right, to some extent, and I still had childish tendencies. "You had no right to call yourself my mother in the first place. All you were was an egg donor with more money than you could make sense of. Enjoy your hoard, you damned dragon," I seethed, seeing her frozen in place with her arms crossed and chin held high.

Some part of me hoped she would apologize. That naïve, childish part - I knew my mother and I knew myself, and the trait that we shared was stubbornness. I sped out of the estate without ever looking back, driving aimlessly for a while until the honking coming from drivers around me began reaching alarming levels of volume; tears began flowing down my face at some point, all but obscuring my vision. I parked in the nearest place I could find, in front of a Waffle House out of all places.

Crying in a Waffle House parking lot, how pathetic was that. Logically, I knew at least five people had my back: Tony and Bruce, who surprisingly loved me back; Loki, who had become strangely clingy after my declaration - clingy in the best way. Together with Wanda and Peter, they made my heart warm and my eternally racing brain feel calm and safe.

I called my dad, he didn't pick up. I don't know what I expected of the man, but any and all remnants of my respect for him shattered, breaking into tiny little pieces as I helplessly banged my fists against the steering wheel in a fit of desperate rage. One look in the mirror and my already ashen complexion was made worse by red, puffy eyes and the blooming bruise on my cheek where my mother had slapped me. It was the first time she'd laid a hand on me; I wanted to throw up.

I sat in the car until my breathing slowed; completely and utterly clueless as to what to do. I had no home of my own, three suitcases worth of clothes and research that was useless without a lab to run experiments in, my car, and a small trust fund in my name. The recent incident with the curse box had left me mentally drained as it was, now, I could surely say that my head was empty: no thoughts.

And throughout it all, Stephen's avoidance crossed my mind. As if the self-loathing wasn't enough, as if my own blood, the people who were supposed to care for me, rejecting and ignoring me wasn't strong enough of a blow... The sorcerer's avoidance raised more anger within me. I didn't know why but the thought of him made me want to cry and seethe once again.

Logic gone out of the window, I typed in the Sanctum's address into my GPS with shaking fingers, figuring that if he wasn't willing to do the legwork, I will come to him myself and clarify things for all at once. The mixed signals were just a cherry on top of my sky-high problem sundae.

I banged on the door and it flew open immediately, a surprised sorcerer quickly turning concerned and panicky, noticing my general state of appearance. I was still wearing the same clothes and my hair was in disarray, my face looking somewhere between a coke bender and a manic episode.

"You," I stated darkly, taking a deep breath. "You need to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me and reject me, so I can move on already. And you," I poked the man in the chest, right above the fancy eye-shaped necklace, "Need to stop it with the mixed signals. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Whatever you are doing, STOP IT," My voice involuntarily raised in pitch from all those emotional rollercoasters I've been on that day. "Get back to being normal. Let me fucking live," I finished my tirade as the man stared at me, frozen and open-mouthed.

"I..." He stammered, eyeing me with concern. "What in the multiverse happened to you? What..?" He was so confused, pulling out his phone the moment I bailed my fists.

"My mother threw me out, my father doesn't give a fuck about me, apparently I'm a cheap whore with delusions of grandeur. You're avoiding me and everybody is waiting for me to blow up," I screeched, all but vibrating in my spot. "This is me blowing up. I want answers!" I demanded.

Strange recoiled from me, frowning and pocketing his phone. A deep sigh left him, the kind that made his whole body sag. He ran a careful hand through his hair before looking away and slowly pulling me against his chest, the door shutting behind me and keeping the cold out. I hadn't even noticed I was freezing; my feet were wet from the NYC winter slush and mud.

Stephen's embrace was warm and tender; I wanted to lean into it and push him away at the same time. I was so messed up, it was embarrassing. There was nothing acceptable about this situation - I felt guilty as soon as his face fell.

"Jesus Christ, baby," He mumbled quietly. "Sounds like you had one hell of a day. Let's go, I'll put on some tea," He rubbed soothing circles on my back, something that confused me - I just had stormed in and dumped a bucket of bile right on top of his head.

"I should go," I mumbled, yet had no real strength to move away from him.

"You're not going anywhere. I suppose I need to explain myself, too," He sighed, and despite his obvious discomfort, picked me up, letting my limbs to wrap around his torso like a monkey. I was careful to keep my weight off his hands, even if the trip to the fireplace room was short. As soon as I was placed onto the couch and my shoes were removed, Cloaky drifted over from a dark corner, urging me to take off my soggy hoodie, and wrapped itself tightly around me.

Turns out, semi-sentient cloaks were quite warm.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n

[makeste]

Are there any headcanons that you would like to share? About anything you want.

anon in the absence of specific guidelines I have managed to make this post pretty much entirely about Bakugou. I apologize if you really wanted to know all of my headcanons about Kouda or something lol. but all joking aside he really is the character I think about the most and so probably like 80% of my headcanons are about him, including close to 100% of the headcanons I actually have a solid enough grip on to put into words. anyway here goes.

he does not know how to tie a tie. he was a rowdy little free range knee-scraping grass-staining run-don’t-walk child whose parents only ever managed to wrestle him into formal attire a handful of times for special occasions when he was younger, and then he went to a middle school that used gakuran-style uniforms so he never learned then, either. his dad offered to teach him when U.A. rolled around, but he was all, “fuck off dad, I know how to tie a stupid tie,” because by that time he had grown into a cocky little brat confident in his own skill and naive as to the reality checks of the world, and he genuinely believed with the conviction that only a fifteen-year-old can muster that when the time came he would just magically know how to do it. on the first day of school he got as far as draping the loose tie over his neck and holding one end in each hand before staring at the mirror and abruptly realizing the hole he’d dug himself into. and so rather than admit defeat, he just straight up decided not to wear it. which became a permanent life choice once he got to school and saw how badly Deku’s tie was tied and realized there was no way he could ever risk that kind of humiliation.

in a similar vein, I know there’s a popular fanon that because of his parents’ influence Katsuki has a good sense of fashion, but my own personal headcanon is that this could not be further from the truth lol. it’s not that he has a terrible sense of style, mind you; it’s just that he doesn’t care about it at all. he’s a nerdy jock who spends all his free time studying and lifting weights. this kid literally only wears one color, and that color just so happens to be the easiest possible color to coordinate. he owns like three pairs of shoes max. he wears his pants three sizes up and they drag so much that the hems are all frayed from him constantly stepping on them (literally canon, and one of my favorite details from chapter 218). he just doesn’t give a fuck, so long as the clothes are comfortable and don’t look stupid. he has about a million things he’s more concerned about than what he or anyone else is wearing. in fact I’m 90% sure that his mom still buys most of his clothes, and about 70% convinced he does not even know what size he is.

he’s good at household chores (because he’s good at everything), but hates doing them. aside from cooking, which he enjoys, he will bitch and whine nonstop if forced to do tedious-yet-necessary things like washing dishes and folding laundry. that said, he is a perfectionist, and he also has a lot of experience because his mom made him do chores all the time during the seven trillion times he was grounded while growing up (that’s his estimate, btw, so it may be slightly exaggerated. he was not an easy kid to raise. when your kid’s fuse is about a millimeter long and he has a tendency to literally blow up whenever he throws a fit, you end up with a lot of objects in your house that have been replaced at some point), so if you do actually manage to get him to do the chore, rest assured that chore is getting fucking DONE.

when he was very little he watched an Avengers Endgame-style All Might film where a bunch of bad guys attacked earth and various assorted heroes tried and failed to stop them. then at the climax of the film, All Might showed up and said “I am here”, and everyone got super pumped up and excited because they knew the heroes were going to win with All Might on their side. this scene remains Katsuki’s favorite scene in anything. not the fight -- just the moment where All Might shows up and grins and the audience knows right there and then that he’s going to win. this is the feeling that inspired his dream. he wants to be the one who shows up and everyone is like, “we’re good now; Katsuki is here.”

when he was six or seven he got into a big fight with an older boy over that scene because he said it was fake and that there was no way All Might could have beaten those guys in real life. Katsuki insisted he definitely would have because All Might never loses. the other boy replied that everyone loses sometimes. Katsuki kicked his ass and got suspended for a week.

ten years later, Katsuki watched All Might battle All for One at Kamino and realized two things. one, that the other boy was right and that anyone can lose. and two, that he, the one who had so proudly defended All Might back then, was going to end up being the reason why he finally lost.

for a long time afterwards, he couldn’t bring himself to watch that movie again.

when he and Izuku were three years old their moms sent them out on a first errand (google Hajimete no Otsukai if you’re unfamiliar with this tradition, I promise you it is the cutest fucking thing you’ll ever see) to buy ingredients for katsudon. Izuku was full of bouncy childish enthusiasm and could rattle off the full shopping list of ingredients front to back, but when the moment finally came his confidence wilted as soon as their parents were out of sight. Katsuki also had a moment of panic when they first rounded the corner and he couldn’t see his house anymore, but rallied once Izuku burst into tears and he realized that he had to be the one to take charge. he proceeded to morph into an absurdly over-the-top caricature of his own mother for the duration of the errand, to the point where in addition to telling Izuku to stop crying he also ordered him to stand up straight and tuck in his shirt. the two of them went on to complete the errand flawlessly and their moms were PROUD AS FUCK and took a billion pictures. Izuku and Katsuki have only a few scattered memories of this milestone in the present day but it’s enough to send both of them absolutely reeling with embarrassment whenever they’re reminded of it.

he and his mom don’t often get along but sometimes they’ll bond over roasting a mutual target. they have watched many a trashy reality TV show together for this purpose. Masaru lives for these moments but never comments on them lest he spoil the rare moments of peace.

Katsuki is perfectly capable of using keigo (i.e. normal polite Japanese with no rude language/cursing), otherwise he would not be one of the top students in his ivy-league high school. code-switching is a thing guys! anyways his teachers are aware of this, because all of his essays and homework assignments are written normally. he merely chooses to go about his daily business acting like a wannabe yakuza stereotype because that’s just his personality, and he’s not about to start censoring himself and acting like some weird little goody two shoes robot person just to please people he mostly doesn’t give two shits about. but if you put a gun to his head and told him you’d pull the trigger if he said “fuck”, he would probably be all right; he’d just have to concentrate.

when he was little he went through a phase of collecting cicada shells and leaving them EVERYWHERE -- in the bathroom sink, on his mom’s pillow, you name it. Mitsuki often tells people this is when she started getting gray hairs. one time she opened a box of cereal and there was one in there and a little bit of her soul died that day.

he generally doesn’t care who calls him Kacchan. it doesn’t particularly bother him and it never occurred to him to pretend like it did just for appearance’s sake. also secretly for some reason the thought of Deku ever calling him anything else really bothers him. he’s not sure what it would mean if that ever happened, or what he would do.

all of his workouts are designed to strengthen his arms and back and shoulders because those are the parts of his body that take the most abuse from his quirk. other than that he avoids building up excess muscle anywhere else because the more weight he puts on the harder it is to fly around. for this reason he is never going to end up being a big bulky guy like All Might. one day Deku is going to surpass him in muscle, but he doesn’t care because he’ll still be a match for him in firepower and speed.

he’s one of those kids who will not so much as take a sip of alcohol until he’s twenty-five. partly because he’s experienced enough concussions that he doesn’t particularly want to give hangovers a try, and partly because he’s a control freak and honestly afraid of getting drunk and making an idiot of himself somehow. the rowdier members of class A try virtually every trick in their wheelhouse and then some to try and persuade him over the years, but not even the reverse psychology “aw, don’t worry, it’s okay if you’re... scared :)” thing works, because that’s only actually effective when he secretly wants to do the thing.

then one day he just wakes up and is all “you know what, I’m gonna try it”, and for the next few days his google history is basically just “how many drinks does it take to get drunk” and “how to avoid getting drunk” and “how to prevent hangovers.” somehow word gets out through the grapevine (he probably told Todoroki, who is the one person in class A you’d think wouldn’t be a big ol’ gossip but in fact IS) that Bakugou is finally going to get his drink on that weekend, and pretty much EVERYONE shows up at the izakaya that Friday night excited as FUCK.

Katsuki proceeds to drink a grand total of two beers over the span of several hours, and drinks like five glasses of water in between, and literally nothing happens to him at all except that Kaminari almost fights him out of frustration. the rest of class A never fully gets over their disappointment.

he actually knows like 90% of class 1-A’s names by this point. there are still a few people he doesn’t and will never know, though. twenty years from now Aoyama will still be “that weird fucking french kid” in his mind.

he had no idea who Eri was until the Christmas party. sometimes he’d hear the other kids talking about someone named Eri, and from context clues he somehow ended up thinking it was one of Aizawa’s cats. when Eri came to the party he had a brief moment of curiosity wondering if she was Sensei’s niece or something, and then he heard someone say her name and he was all “THAT’S ERI?!” and his entire worldview was briefly shaken up.

he pulled Kirishima aside to ask him and Kirishima basically gave him Eri’s whole entire life story which was way more than he actually wanted to know. he’s now kind of terrified of ever being in the same room as her for fear of having to interact with her because he’s pretty sure he’d do or say the wrong thing. most of the time being intimidating is something he strives for and puts a lot of effort into, including when he’s around kids (who are basically just smaller, sloppier adults in his mind), but he doesn’t want to be the guy who scared an abused kid, so he basically just hopes the others will have enough common sense not to ever go “oh hey you know who should totally interact with each other?? Eri and Bakugou!”

that being said, if circumstances ever arose which forced Katsuki to protect Eri, the two of them would totally bond and they would have a really sweet relationship in which Eri looked up to him just like she looks up to Deku and Mirio and the rest, and where Katsuki was constantly trying to be on his best behavior around her, like genuinely, sincerely trying, and kind of failing at it a lot but still being sweet in a gruff sort of restrained-disaster way.

...and after sitting there for a while trying to think of more I couldn’t come up with any so I guess that’s it! basically most of my headcanons are about how secretly boring Katsuki is. honestly if it weren’t for him having the vocabulary of a 52-year-old sailor whose foot was caught in a bear trap, he and Iida would probably be best friends.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha headcanons #don't think there're any spoilers here except for the detail about his pants in 219 lol #sorry if I have spoiled anyone for that #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks #long post #oh whoops it was actually 218 my bad just edited #wait a second the christmas party is spoilers isn't it lol whoops #bnha spoilers #there we go