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t-lostinworlds · 3 years

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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.

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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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sylvie-writes · 3 years

Text

So Confused

word count: 1433

pairing: dad!steve rogers x wife!reader x sarah rogers

summary: steve and sarah get you a gift yet your husband is a bit confused as to what it is.

a/n: this is a birthday gift to myself hehe. i meant to get this out earlier but life happened lol.

please excuse mistakes this was written on mobile. the writing is very straight forward because i am tireddd.

For days on end Steve had been on mission. Not one for the Avengers, but rather for personal reasons per se. He was on the hunt for the perfect birthday gift for you. In the past he had always had no trouble but that was during the honeymoon phase and felt it was about time to step up his game, ever since your daughter had been born, that is. This year he has absolutely no clue what to get, but luckily he could enlist the help of his mini me who had the perfect gift in mind.

The two of them had snuck out this morning while you were still sleeping. Unfortunately they had to wait until the day of your birthday to get your gift because in the past you’ve had a knack for unintentionally finding the hidden presents.

“Are you sure this is it, little doll?” Steve and Sarah were standing in the middle of the home appliance store looking thoroughly confused by a cardboard box. The man’s hands were on his hips while his daughter mimicked the action.

“I’m sure, Daddy!” Sarah went to go wrap her arms around the large box since it was at her level, but it was heavier than she had intended it to be and instead looked up to her dad for help. He easily scooped it up as if it were a piece of paper.

“Well, if you are sure this is it, what is it for?” In one hand Steve held the white and green cardboard box and rested it against his waist while the other hand held Sarah’s hand to keep her close. As they walked to the checkout line, Steve’s eyes scanned over the big bold letters on the box that read “Roomba.”

“Silly Daddy! It’s a rowbot vacooooom.” The smaller blonde giggled at her dad’s confused face and he moved his gaze to look down at her with a goofy smile.

“Next!” The cashier called them next in line and Sarah broke away from her dad to run up to the lady and greeted her while Steve followed suit.

Mumbling under his breath he picked up his pace, “Wow, times really are changing.”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!” Two lovely voices awoke you and a little girl jumped on the bed to snuggle up as a larger man sat beside you on the edge.

You greeted them both in return with a kiss to their cheeks before Sarah was readily sitting criss cross in your lap. Her tiny hand gave you a white envelope that had been colored in almost every color crayon you can imagine. In the child’s best handwriting, written in squiggly letters was your name along with a disproportionate heart that made you giggle. It was the kind of artwork that a parent valued because it was their child’s and not since it looked like Davinci’s art, heavens knew it was anything but that.

Opening the card made your heart melt as you read the wording in the card, ones in Steve’s expert cursive but Sarah’s own words. Steve’s handwriting was so elegant and old fashioned. You loved when he wrote anything for you, whether that be a note telling the dishes were clean or a letter he sent when off for work.

A tiny tear pricked at the corner of your eye for Sarah’s letter was so sweet and endearing, especially for such a young girl. You couldn’t have gotten a better kid. With much love, you pulled her into your arms and pressed messy kisses that tossed up her hair and made her laugh.

Next, Steve crawled into the bed a bit more when you scooted over for him. He handed you his own card that was, in fact, a letter written on fancy cream stationery with gold foil. It accented the jet black ink of the pen and the smooth strokes that came from Steve’s penmanship.

In his letter were words of appreciation to you for being the loving woman, wife and mother you were. You could tell it was straight from his heart. Steve was always so genuine and you loved him ever so for that.

Not even a second after you put the letter down and pecked Steve’s lips was Sarah excitedly clapping her hands.

“Momma! We got you a present!”

You cocked your head like an intrigued puppy.

“Oh really? What did you get, baby?”

She shook her head, “That’s not how it works, silly goose! Daddy has to get the gift and then you can open it!” Her words didn’t hold any malice or demand, just lots of excitement for giving a gift, that she knew was perfect, to her mom.

Steve quickly got up and returned in no time to your bedroom and placed a huge box wrapped in unicorn paper (Sarah’s doing) in your lap as your daughter had moved to the side.

She watched with much interest as you opened the paper slowly and your jaw dropped when you saw the box. Sarah was relieved to see your reaction.

Inside your box, it was a robot vacuum, something you had been dying to get as there was just not enough time to clean the house by yourself. Even with Steve and Sarah’s help, it was a constant struggle and this little device would help quite a bit.

You let out an excited squeal yourself, something that Sarah often did, and you launched yourself at Steve who was now standing at the bedside.

“Oh Steve! Thank you! I love you so much, I will literally have your babies. You surely know a way into my heart.” A million kisses were placed on his lips and he shook his head before you continued to shower him in affection. Actually, Steve was struggling really hard to not laugh and get the words of truth out.

“It wasn’t all me, sweetheart. It was really your daughter!”

You turned to your daughter and goofily ran over to her with open arms. Scooping her up off the bed you sound around with her in your arms.

Setting down Sarah, you returned back to Steve.

“You must think I’m so crazy, getting excited over a vacuum. God, I’m getting so old.” You made a sound of disgust towards the end and Steve laughed.

“If anyone in this house is old, it’s me. (Y/n) I don’t even know what this thing really does.” Steve widened his eyes for extra effect and you were shocked that he didn’t know. After all, he worked with technology far more advanced than this yet a cell phone could stomp him. He was such an old man and you never stopped teasing him about it. You were relentless with your jokes but Steve enjoyed them nonetheless.

“Oh, well, it’s a vacuum that goes around the house on its own. Y’a know so we don’t have to spend an hour every day doing it ourselves.”

He opened his mouth in awe while you both watched Sarah unpack the box.

“Ma would love this. I remember how bad she wanted a vacuum, just a simple one cost more than our grocery spendings.”

You intently listened to Steve’s short story of how his father had saved up to get his mom a vacuum for her birthday and you smiled at the irony of the recollection. Here their son was, doing almost the same thing for his own wife.

“Times have changed so much, darling, and I’m so glad I have you here to help,” Steve unwrapped his arm from your waist and instead turned to place his hands on your face.

“You are always so patient with me, I just love you so much.” With that, your husband kissed you slowly and for what seemed like minutes. That was until Sarah started to noisily take the styrofoam from that box that you both pulled away and turned to her.

She was awfully excited over the vacuum herself and you found it hilarious. Sarah caught you both glancing at her and waved you over to help with the styrofoam that was crumbling and looking like snow on the bedspread. No one wants to do laundry, let alone on their birthday so you both rushed over to prevent the mess from growing.

After setting up the device, you taught Steve how to work the vacuum from his cell phone, Sarah scrambled through a list of names and you found loads of entertainment in both of them. They were quite the pair and you were so glad to have them in your life, especially on your birthday

#steve rogers #chris evans #steve rogers x reader #dad steve rogers x reader

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Produce Joe

(My gif)(Requested by @westanimagines )

- You and Joe meet when you get a job at the grocery store and are given a tour of the place by your new manager.

- After being shown around the floor of the shop, he takes you into the backrooms and introduces you to Randy and the ever interesting Joe; who he has to tap on the shoulder in order to make him realize there’s people behind him since his music is playing so loud.

- The bespectacled boy tries to play it cool but you can tell he’s a little embarrassed; particularly when his eyes fall on you and your manager explains that you’ll be starting work there the next Monday.

- You give the man a polite hello before you’re ushered out of the room and whisked away to be shown around the rest of the building; leaving Joe flustered yet realistically unhopeful.

- As I said before, you start work the next Monday and things go smoothly. You make friends with the other girls on shift and you do the mind numbing work that pertains to a job at a grocery store.

- When you first start working there, you don’t really talk to Joe all that much. You don’t have a reason to be in his portion of the store most days and you’re new to the job so you’re doing whatever you can to look like a picture perfect employee as you figure out the rules of working there.

- Once you’re a little more comfortable in your position, you do a bit more wandering and are trusted with more tedious jobs that have you going into the back of the store. That's when you actually start making conversation from time to time.

- Your conversations are always a bit awkward but you come to realize that that’s …sort of just Joe. Which is why you begin to feel a bit bad for him.

- He’s always detached from everyone, always alone, and though you can’t say for sure that he isn’t the one who’s doing the detaching, you figure that it can’t be easy all the same and make it your mission to be friendly and talk with him. And his pleasant response to your interest in him convinces you that you've done the right thing.

- Soon enough, he’s latched onto you. Not in a creepy way but in a friendly, ‘you’re the only one who I’m comfortable around and who talks to me’ sort of way.

- It’s easy to see that you just being there makes his day a whole lot better; and that he looks forward to your little interactions, and though your coworkers certainly find him a bit strange, you begin to find him sort of cute.

- Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take Joe a ridiculously long time to shoot his shot. He just randomly asks if you’d want to see a movie with him on Saturday and against your better judgement of dating one of your coworkers, you can’t help but agree.

- Hey, if there was anyone you’d be able to avoid at work and whose offer is dorkily endearing enough to persuade you into accepting, it’s Joe.

- So you meet up with him that next Saturday and settle in for a date at the cinema, sharing a popcorn and pretending like you aren’t flattered by/don’t notice his glances towards you.

- He almost kisses you after the movie as the two of you are saying goodbye but he very obviously loses his nerve and plays it off before the two of you call it a night. And as you’re driving yourself home, you’re surprised by how disappointed you are that he didn’t....

- Though you don’t wind up waiting too long for that kiss since you wind up taking it for yourself a few days later when you’re retrieving something from his area of the shop.

- You figure that it’s best to get it out of the way to show him that you want him to kiss you so, after he hands you the box of things that you’d came there for, you lean up and peck him on the lips, giving him a cheerful thanks before you leave the room; leaving him an ecstatic mess.

- And just like that, you’ve got yourself the freshest boy at the grocers.

- Joe likes to pretend like he’s this cool tough guy but at the same time, he knows that he isn’t; which makes you being with him a big accomplishment in his eyes. He’s incredibly proud that you’ve chosen to be his girlfriend and being your boyfriend makes him feel cool so he loves pda and being able to show you off.

- Him awkwardly throwing his arm around your shoulder while trying to look all macho. He’s a dork and that’s just something you’ll have to get used to.

- Kiss his cheek! Kiss his cheek! Seriously, he loves it almost as much as he loves you.

- Clumsy but sweet kisses.

- Taking his glasses off so that you can kiss him better. I can’t imagine it would be easy to touch lips with those massive frames in the way.

- The main pet name he uses is babe and it almost always sounds hilarious whenever it leaves his mouth.

- Most of the time, when you cuddle, he’s the big spoon. He likes nuzzling into the back of your neck and having you pressed up against him; and he’s tall so it works out quite nicely.

- Laying your head in each others laps. Oftentimes he’ll snuggle into your lap or stomach, wrapping his arms around the small of your back as your fingers card through his hair.

- Brushing his hair out of his face. It never seems to bother him but every now and again it bothers the hell out of you.

- Always having the freshest fruit and vegetables. If your boyfriend doesn’t put aside the best of the bunch when your favorite produce comes in, is he even your boyfriend?

- Spitting watermelon seeds and playing other stupid little games.

- Sliding down the grocery shoot every now and again when you know you aren’t gonna get caught; not that your boss really cares 90% of the time.

- Making faces at each other.

- Goofing off and not taking yourselves too seriously.

- Occasionally spooking him when you come to visit since he plays his music so loud. It’s become a highlight of your day to make him momentarily jump out of his skin; you consider it to be you avenging his eardrums.

- Borrowing his Walkman and cassettes. It’ll definitely take some convincing though, that things practically his baby.

- Dancing to music and lip syncing to songs.

- You can’t tell me that he doesn’t look like a “little” nerd, which is why I’m making him liking Star Wars and Star Trek and all of those geeky interests a thing.

- Going to conventions and other nerdy events like that.

- Playing different tabletop games.

- Movie dates. Something tells me he’d be one of those guys who are scared of horror movies but would try to play it off like he wasn’t…up until he’s clutching your hand all tight and refusing to walk down a dark street.

- Arcade dates.

- Carnival dates.

- Mall dates.

- He’s adorably willing to indulge in your more “girly” interests and probably secretly likes them himself.

- Taking naps together; though he strikes me as the type of person who barely gets any sleep so you might just be taking naps at his apartment while he does his own thing.

- Playful competitions.

- Him scaring the shit out of you with his chopping and dicing; to the point where you’re compelled to do his work yourself so that you know he isn’t gonna lose a finger.

- Eating lunch together and sharing food. You spend pretty much all of your lunch breaks in the backrooms with him.

- Talking with Randy every now and again while you wait for Joe. He appreciates the occasional company and the fact that you can save him some trouble and relay messages to your boyfriend for him.

- Long conversations about nothing in particular. You can rant to him about whatever you want but I can’t guarantee that he’ll be listening too intently; not that he’s purposefully ignoring you or anything.

- He’s kind of the typical oblivious boyfriend but he’s never malicious in his ignorance. He’s just a goofy dork who doesn’t take notice of subtleties and has trouble concentrating.

- Letting him brag about his accomplishments; even though you probably know that he’s completely making them up. He’ll probably “come clean” later on in your relationship and you'll have to hold back a laugh while trying to sound sincere when you tell him it’s okay.

- Him trying to act tough yet borderline hiding behind you when things get scary.

- Most of the time, Joe doesn’t take notice of any flirtation or suggestive interactions between you and other men so he rarely gets jealous of people. You could openly flirt with a dude and he’d be none the wiser.

- As much as Joe likes to pretend like he can kick peoples asses, he most certainly cannot so don’t expect him to start any fights in your honor. He’s a bit of a coward so he really isn’t all too protective of you.

- Joe’s a laidback guy and you sort of knew what you were getting yourself into when you started dating him so the two of you really don’t get into too many fights. If you do have them, they’re a quick argument and an even quicker resolution.

- Both of you sort of just choose to forget about arguments or you bicker until you come up with a quick “fine.” “fine!” sort of agreement and subsequently forget about the problem. Either way, fights never last long.

- Joe tells you he loves you pretty much every day; usually when you’re saying goodbye or in other circumstances like that.

- He might give you the occasional headache but you love him nonetheless. He’s a dork but he’s your dork and you’re gonna stay with him for as long as you can.

#produce joe imagine #produce joe imagines #produce joe headcanons #produce joe headcanon #intruder 1989 #intruder imagine #intruder imagines #intruder headcanons #intruder headcanon #80s movie imagines #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Satisfied | Andy Barber x reader (chapter 3)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2)

series summary: you’re the only lawyer in Boston who can get under Andy Barber’s skin, but you didn’t realise that he was trying to get under your clothes. as is the nature of law, it’s only a matter of time before the truth is discovered.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: smut, rough sex, safewording, oral (f receiving), angst, non-linear storytelling/flashbacks

a/n: I wrote this series originally with my friend joyce, and after she deactivated some of the chapters were lost. this series is long-since completed, but I’m reposting now so people can still read!

You stretched a little, eyes still closed to protect them from the blinding sunlight peeking in. Daylight had crept up on you, and it came quickly. You were sure that you had only fallen asleep a mere few minutes before you woke; muscles sore from overexertion. Letting out a groan, you shifted your body once again trying to get comfortable.

Andy really did a number on your body and you needed a deep stretch to try and regain some control over your aching muscles. You turned and looked at him. Andy was peaceful. His brows were relaxed and his mouth was slightly agape. You hadn’t realized just how badly you missed seeing him like that. So much so that you caught yourself just in time. Your hand had almost reached his cheek before pulling back.

“Stop moving,” Andy mumbled from beside you. When you did not quit the shuffling, he groaned and wrapped his arms around your body, trapping you beneath his weight.

It caused you to hesitate and freeze for a second. His body heat radiated onto your naked body. His skin against yours. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and it’s then that you realized that the feeling of his body was ingrained in your existence.

“Andy…” you whispered but he ignored you, snuggling back into the sheets instead. It felt almost domestic. And wrong. It felt really wrong. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded you of being young, and in love, again.

In love with Andy.

---

“We should do this again sometime,” Andy beamed as you got up off the bed and pulled your t-shirt back over your head from where it had been tossed onto the floor. Ah yes, the telltale smile of a man who just got laid.

“Andy, I probably should’ve been more clear,” you admitted. “I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m too busy, and I’ve always felt that single women are taken more seriously in law school.”

You expected him to question it, but he nodded. “Yeah, that is probably true. Fucked up, but true.”

He hopped up and followed you before you could walk to the bathroom, turning you around with a hand on your shoulder. “Does that mean that we can’t do this again?”

“Oh, we’re definitely going to do it again,” you grinned, biting your bottom lip. “Just, not as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

He seemed happy enough with that answer, if not ecstatic.

“But for now, I need to study, so get out of my room,” you chuckled, watching him redress with a satisfied smirk on your face.

---

Another party, another stupid performative social event, another red plastic cup with god knows what in it that you have no intention of actually drinking. Or at least you had no intention when you walked in.

Andy was better at this. People actually cheered when he came into the room— but admittedly he was also holding booze so, they might have been cheering for that. But they were still happy to see him, and who wouldn’t be? You were too, but you tried to hide it. The company line was still that you two didn’t care much for each other, and it was… somewhat true, he still got on your nerves, but you undeniably had a soft spot for him. Perhaps literally.

You decided you could pull him aside for a chat once, that wouldn’t be too suspicious. But it couldn’t be right as he walked in, so you were basically just counting the minutes in your head until you could talk to him. But then you were just trying to not get caught looking at him every 30 seconds. How was he so… attractive? Not just hot, but magnetic. Guys jumped over to laugh with him. Girls hung off his arm while he told hilarious stories. And here you were, across the room staring because you didn’t want to be a part of his harem.

Speaking of harem, he seemed to have a new fan tonight, and she was hanging onto his every word. You’d seen her around before— Jessie something, most likely short for Jessica but at the moment you decided it was short for Jezebel. She was cute. Gorgeous, actually. One of those girls who looked like she just got up in the morning and brushed her hair and was already model-perfect. You tried not to hate that about her, you tried not to hate her because she was just a beautiful girl talking with this amazing, charismatic guy and you had no reason to be mad at her because she was just— oh my fucking god did she just grab his bicep??? SKANK!

You left the party quickly after that, deciding you didn’t like the person you were becoming. One of the many, many reasons you’d sworn not to get involved with guys in law school was because you knew how women could get defensive and territorial over men, and you were never going to prioritize getting dick over being a good feminist. How had you already fallen so far?

You were grateful for the half-empty bottle of Fireball in your cupboard. It was to be your companion to drown out the sorrows. You hoped that it would be enough to make you forget what you saw. Especially the fact that Jezebel and Andy would have made a good couple. They looked good together. Not right. But good nonetheless.

---

“...the defendant clearly has the mental capacity for there to be mens rea. He should be prosecuted and I don’t understand how I am the only person that thinks so,” Andy tugged at his hair in frustration as you walked beside each other down the hall. “I think it’s ridiculous that--”

“Are you fucking that Jessie chick?” you suddenly interjected, trying (and failing) to curb the anger bubbling in your stomach. Andy’s eyebrows shot up and you felt a sense of dissatisfaction at the response. He proceeded to drag you into an empty classroom.

“You have no right to be jealous,” he reminded you firmly. “We’re not dating.”

“I know, I know. Who said that I’m jealous?” you frowned, but your voice was a lot higher than usual, “but that doesn’t mean I’m down to catch whatever cooties you get from her.”

“You think I’m gonna sleep with her?” he asked incredulously.

“Uh, yeah,” you retorted with a heavy layer of patriotism, “and everyone else thinks so, too.”

He reached out and cupped your face, tilting it up to make sure you were looking at him. “Just because we’re not together… doesn’t mean I want anybody else.” He looked so sincere and sounded so soft that it took you aback. You had never expected Andy to say that. Ever.

“I… what?”

“Baby,” he sighed, and your heart tensed a little, “you’re the reason I’m not your boyfriend. I don’t want to date anybody else, I don’t want to be with anybody else… you’re it. Just you.”

“Oh,” you nodded with wide eyes.

“Are you… seeing other people? Not that you can’t, I just… I didn’t think you were.”

“No, no,” you dismissed, “I only… no.”

“Then let’s make it official. You have no reason to be jealous. Be my girlfriend.”

“But I—”

“We don’t have to tell people,” he quickly backpedaled. “I know you don’t want to be seen as half of a couple, or an extension of me or something. But I wanna be able to call you my girlfriend. Even if I can’t actually tell anybody about it.”

You looked at him, making sure he wasn’t joking or messing around before slowly nodding. His face lit up, “but we have to keep it on the down-low,” you reminded him quickly, to which he nodded.

“That we do. Verity would advocate for our expulsion if she knew.” Your eyes went wide with fear. Andy was right. It had the potential to completely decimate your career.

“Andy, we can’t tell anyone about this,” you whispered sharply, “especially now that we’re on a case together.”

“Calm down, baby,” he soothed. It was the first time he called you that since you became secretly-official and it sounded different now, somehow; it made your stomach flutter a little. “Trust me, I know, and it will be fine. Verity won’t find out.”

“Okay,” you nodded, believing him, “however, you really shouldn’t be calling Dr. Verity Woods, J.D. Esq. by her first name alone.”

“You don’t need to use her full name and title,” Andy laughs, “she said it’s fine to call her by her first name. You were there.”

“That I was. But it doesn’t feel right, especially since she’s leading the case.”

Andy shook his head and smiled. You really were something else but he needed it. He needed you. Even all of the crazy and particular aspects of your personality. “Speaking of her, I need to go to her office in—” Andy looked at his watch— “shit, 10 minutes.”

“Well, go, run,” you gestured at the door and Andy bolted out, not even having the time to peck your lips. You waited a few moments before leaving the room, not wanting to attract any attention.

---

“Hey, cupcake,” he cooed and then kissed your ear. Without having to look at him, you knew that he had a smug grin on his face and enjoyed the teasing.

“You eat one cupcake one time and suddenly it becomes your whole identity,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes. Andy’s body pressed up against yours and you tried to push him off but the warmth of his body was far too comforting.

“But you looked so cute when you got frosting on your nose,” he recalled.

“Go away,” you giggled and squealed as Andy tickled you, “s-stop it.”

“Come on, cupcake, you can do better than that,” Andy continued to tickle you until you fell on the floor in a giggling heap, “all you have to do is let me call you cupcake.”

“Andy—” you squealed. “Barber, you better stop this right now!” Your stomach hurt from the laughter as his fingers dug into your waist making you scream.

“Come on, cupcake.”

“N-no!”

“Since that’s the case, I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing.”

“Fine! Fine,” you relented, “you win.”

---

You looked around the sterile reception as you took a seat on the plush sofa and looked out of the window. The California sun shone into the room illuminating everything in its path. You weren’t running away, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe you would believe it at some point. It was simply that you needed a change of scenery.

One thing that you were sure of was that you were more than qualified for the job. And that should be enough. But it came at a cost. Your personal life. It had always been on the back-burner for you but you had to accept you had chosen the lonely path.

Nobody had ever told you just how much you, as a woman, had to sacrifice to be successful. And so you learnt the hard way. Your friends told you that you had made your bed so you had to lie in it. They were not wrong but they did nothing to ease the vacancy in your heart.

Flicking through one of the magazines on the table, you let it distract you from the ticking clock. It seemed that you were the only person that was there for the job which should have eased your nerves. But you haven’t always been the first choice.

---

“Am I remembering correctly that you were valedictorian of your class?” the man across from you had your resume in front of him and was still unable to get it right. Maybe the job was not right for you. But it was a better offer than still being in Boston.

“Salutatorian,” you corrected coldly, gaze piercing. You tapped your nails on the table as the interviewer tried to regain his posture.

“Oh, well,” he shrugged, “that’s still pretty good.”

Pretty good. You didn’t believe in stuff like that. There was greatness, and nothing else. “Well, that’s the past,” you quickly shut off the conversation about your greatest failure and threw the man a tight-lipped smile.

“So,” he cleared his throat, “what makes you think that you will be suitable for the role?”

The fear left your system. You were sure of yourself. You were more than qualified.

---

“Time to get up for breakfast,” Andy roused you from your sleep. You had no idea when you went back to sleep but it was your turn to groan. “Don’t make me wake you up; you won’t like that.”

“I’m tired. Leave me alone, Barber,” too tired and sore to really care about eating or the punishment. That being said, you were a little hungry after missing dinner.

“I know you’re sore so don’t make me wake you up,” he warned but you still refused to pay him any mind. That was your mistake as Andy ripped the covers from your body; exposing it to the chilly morning air.

“What are you doing?”

Andy didn’t respond. Instead, his face went to your core. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he cooed, “I think it’s time for you to wake up.” He licked a stripe across your sex and watched it glimmer in the light. Fisting the blankets beneath you, your back arched involuntarily.

You let out a breathy moan when he parted your folds to allow his tongue better access to your dripping cunt. He licked and explored your body like it was the first time he was given the privilege.

“Taste so good,” his voice reverberated through your body sensing little shocks of pleasure through you. Andy suckled on your clit making you cry out. His beard scratched the soft skin of your inner thigh and your sensitive folds. The contrast of his soft, wet tongue and his rough beard made your eyes roll back.

“Andy,” you mewled, “please.”

“What do you want?” Andy taunted you. Your body kept moving; your hands tugging at the sheets. You needed him to do more. He was teasing you. “Words, my little fuckdoll.”

You were unable to form any coherent sentences when Andy had such control over your body. He inserted one finger into your aching core, massaging your walls. “You have to use your words or I’ll stop now seeing as you’re awake.”

“No,” you rushed out. “P-please let me come.” You had no dignity left but you were too far gone to care. You needed Andy’s mouth and fingers too badly.

“Well,” Andy clicked his tongue as his lips curled into a smile, “since you asked so nicely...”

---

Unable to find your clothes fast enough, you found a discarded Harvard sweatshirt of his and slipped it on, smiling to yourself at the bagginess. Looking down at the left sleeve, you realized that it was the same one you wore when you were dating. It made you feel a little nostalgic. The sweatshirt was practically yours.

You emerged from the bedroom to find him in the kitchen with an apron on-- why the fuck did he own an apron?-- and messing around at the stove. He must have heard you enter because he turned to you with a smile.

“Huevos rancheros!” he announced with a smile, lifting the pan for you to see.

You looked to him, and the pan of eggs, and around his stylish condo worthy of an ADA’s inflated salary, and shivered with the overwhelming sense of ‘wrong’. That was even in spite of your rumbling stomach. “Andy, stop, this is all too much. Too domestic,” you whispered, unable to look at Andy when you said it.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say things like that,” Andy pleaded, “I just want to see you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I want to see you.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“But I can’t remember the last time that I saw the real you,” Andy’s words made your stomach turn. “I don’t know the last time I saw the you that I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“She doesn’t exist anymore, Andy,” you whispered, “you need to let her go. God knows I did.”

“No, she’s not. I don’t believe that,” he argued; heart breaking by the second, “she’s still there, I’m certain of that. You wouldn’t end up here so often if she doesn’t exist. And you wouldn’t be so upset about not being valedictorian.”

“We shouldn’t keep doing this, Andy,” you decided with a sigh as you found your purse and attempted to gather your things. Where the fuck were your clothes again?

“No. You don’t get to say that,” he raised his voice, shedding his apron as he left the kitchen, “you can’t just waltz back into my life and keep... taking. It’s not fair.”

“Taking? I’m not taking anything, you’re throwing yourself on me! I don’t know what you want from me, Andy,” you sighed, placing your purse on the sofa.

“The same thing that I’ve always wanted.”

“Maybe it’s not what I want,” you lied through your teeth. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Then why do you keep coming back?” Andy’s voice cracked. You knew that you were hurting him. And yourself. But there was no other way.

“Because I love being humiliated, and you are the most embarrassing thing I could possibly be involved with. Because you already know all my fucked up kinky shit and I’d rather keep the number of people who know that down to a minimum. Because when I walk home after seeing you I feel fucking sick to my stomach and filthy and stupid and I like it. Because I love the way that fucking you makes me hate myself.”

“I’m used to you lying to me, but I think now’s a good time for you to stop lying to yourself,” he shouted, the vein in his neck appearing. You were shocked to realize that you had actually hurt him. Badly. “Actually, it’s more than overdue. You’ve been doing it for what? Ten years?”

“Why can’t you just admit to yourself that you want this?” He pointed at the house, and then himself. “That you want me.” His voice was so strained that you felt a little guilty.

“I don’t want you.”

“That’s not the impression I got last night. Or this morning. You were just begging for me.”

Something about arguing with him was so erotic. Was that a strange thing to think? It certainly made court a lot more interesting. And now you found your gaze trailing greedily over his body and as it met his eyes once more, you saw that he knew what you wanted. That you were falling back into this cycle again.

“If you want me to want you again,” you hissed, “you’re gonna have to make me beg, aren’t you?”

He slammed into you, tossing you down onto the sofa as he slid his own sweatshirt up your body, latching his lips onto your nipple which was embarrassingly already hard.

“You say it like I’ve not been making you beg since you were twenty-two,” he growled, teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“I can’t seem to remember that.”

“Well I guess it’s time for me to remind you, then,” he swiped a finger across your (already wet) folds and looked at his slick-coated fingers with pride. He had always loved the way you glistened on his skin.

He pushed your back down until you arched it for him. “Get that ass up, baby.” You moaned when he slapped your ass quickly, tugging on your hair to arch your back even further. “Want me to put this cock in you?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

“You can do better than that,” he tutted disappointedly.

You stopped yourself from responding because you knew you would say more than you should. He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear.

“We both know it, just say it,” he encouraged in a low voice.

“Fuck you,” you hissed. He slipped his hand around your neck and tightened until your face tingled from the loss of blood.

“Don’t say anything until you’re ready to be honest,” he instructed, finally slipping his cock into you— and even though you couldn’t breathe or moan or speak, you managed to react plenty strongly to the feeling anyways. You were outrageously sore from a long night of fucking and the pain burned just the right way.

He began to move his hips, each time, the base of his cock would brush against your overstimulated clit. Each thrust hitting that one place that made your body quiver. But then it got a bit too much. The stretch and burn of his cock and the hand around your throat.

“Objection!” you yelped your safeword, and instantly he stilled, slipping his arms around you and holding you close. Tears started to pour against your will. “I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I can’t believe that after all this time you still remembered…”

“Never apologize,” he hushed, kissing your shoulder. “I went too hard on you. And I could never forget a safeword like that,” he laughed softly.

“No, no, I just… I got a little overwhelmed. It’s not your fault.”

“Do you want a glass of water?” he asked lightly. “I’ll help you get dressed…”

“No, stay,” you requested.

“Okay,” he nodded, a little surprised. “Tell me how to help you.”

“Just hold me,” you shivered, “like you used to. Back when you liked me.”

He chuckled. “I like you. Even now; I always have… especially when you didn’t think that I did.”

“We’ll see if you say that in court tomorrow.”

“Almost certainly will not,” he admitted, eliciting a small smile from you.

He pulled you down to lay on his chest as he relaxed into the sofa. His fingers delicately ran along your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you let your breathing steady back to normal as your eyes fell shut.

You looked up at him after a while and appreciated the peaceful look on his face. It wasn’t something you saw on him often, since you were always pissing him off. Maybe that was why you liked getting on his nerves so much; because when you saw him like this, happy, you remembered feelings you wanted to forget. But there was also a part of you that just wanted him to feel something about you when he saw you. The opposite of love is not hate but indifference… and even if you didn’t want him to love you, and knew that he could never love you again, you couldn’t live with indifference.

You sat up and he looked at you but you said nothing, just leaning down and kissing him again. He kissed you back, slipping his hand around the back of your neck to hold you close. His breathing against your face began to speed up a bit as you straddled him with your legs, rubbing your hips along his again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked softly as you reached down to guide his cock into you one more time. You closed your eyes briefly.

“I’m sure that I’m not okay,” you responded as you moved your hips down and felt him slip inside you, “but I need you right now.”

He nodded and you sat up to plunge yourself down onto his cock, moaning as his length reached deeper into you than normal from this angle. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not out of any sense of dominance but simply his reaction to the feeling of you as you began to ride him. You were slow at first, balancing yourself on his chest, but it wasn’t too long until you were bouncing with abandon, moaning his name over and over while he watched you closely.

Your hand fell to his chest and you felt his heartbeat, strong and steady. You wished you could be so strong as that. You wished you could be so stable.

He sat up suddenly, looking at you with a hint of concern. He must have seen the fear on your face. He pulled you closer and you still, instead letting him grind deeper into you as he held your face in his hands.

“So beautiful,” he whispered reverently, kissing your collarbone lightly.

“Andy…” you sighed, another tear falling but for an entirely different reason.

“So perfect,” he continued, kisses trailing to your neck. He wrapped you in his arms and you both moved together in a way that didn’t feel like what you were used to at all. Your orgasm came and went with only a stuttered gasp but he felt it and praised you all along the way, made some promises he couldn’t keep, said some things you elected to ignore.

You fell asleep together and stayed that way well into the afternoon, not having gotten the most effective night’s sleep beforehand. When you woke up to golden light on your face and a snoring Andy Barber, you gave him a quick, tight hug before you got up, finally recovered your clothes, and grabbed the handle of his door. Something stopped you, though you couldn’t be sure what, and you looked back to watch him on the couch again. You found yourself setting your purse down and undressing again, trading the wrinkled suit for that stupid Harvard hoodie, and slipping back under his arm on the couch. You weren’t very tired anymore so you watched him sleep for a bit, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. You remembered him liking that before, you hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. It was a familiar feeling, safe feeling, one that you hadn’t felt in so long. You couldn’t think about what would happen tomorrow, what had happened yesterday. You just let yourself swim in the comfort of him for a little while longer.

(next chapter)

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut

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dazaiaiko · 3 years

Note

um hi! mind if i pop in with a request? im taking this from an august prompt-- do you mind writing akutagawa with a handmade gift? (it would be so unusual for him to but pls it would be so cute to receive it) i hope u have an amazing day/night darling !!

hey there!!

I think Aku will definitely give you a letter or small gifts of kind if you both are close enough. Here you go! Hope you like it. Its my first fanfic about him.

and Have a good day/night too!!

AN EVOCATIVE OF YOU

It was a beautiful sunset at the beach with red and orange lights striking the sand and the ocean but what was most beautiful was the scene beside you. Akutagawa, your boyfriend looked even more ethereal even though he looks strong all the time, there was a strange vulnerability to his face today...

"I think we should leave by now else it will be dangerous at night for here"

You knew by danger it meant danger to you.

He was always so overprotective over you that it had become a rule to come home back by 8 and that applies even to your job or else he would go around looking for you. That was one of the cons of dating a mafia member.

"But we rarely come to the beach anymore Ryu! Please you are with me here. I can't get hurt! Just a bit more? I want to remember this day by something. Just one more minute until i find it!! please...?"

You pouted at the end however Akutagawa being a tough guy did not let it faze him even though he felt like giving into it. BUT precautions come first and then feelings.

"You will........get whatever you want....later"

"But-"

"One second", he said and ran towards the beach again. You looked from afar and saw him talking to a person and then come back to you.

However on questioning him about his little off tour he only frowned. You knew this face way too well after dating for 2 years. He was hiding something but oh well this man won't break under your intense questioning at all. You had experience.

That was that and then you both were back to your shared apartment.

It had been a 2 weeks after that incident and you had completely forgotten about whatever had transpired at the beach that day. And here you were watching titanic all the while holding his hand. Cuddling wasn't his thing however he let you cuddle a bit surprisingly and you didn't miss the opportunity at all.

Suddenly he looked at you and brought something out form his pocket. He thought long and hard before calling out your name.

"Y/n..... I have something to show you..."

"hmm....... yes?", you were kind of sniffling at this point of the movie but replied nonetheless.

He then got down on his knees and showed you a ring box.

It felt as though all of the air had been sucked away from you. You felt breathless.

You started crying at this point. Was he proposing?!

"Aku...I-I am not dressed properly for this! Please don't do it no-now. "

"Hey! hey! don't cry I really put the time and effort in it so it won't be that bad....."

"huh?"

And then he opened the box and picked out a beautiful pearl necklace from it. It was a pinkish pearl at the bottom of a string and it had some kind of silver work done on it.

He stood up and put it around your neck attaching the hook from behind. All this while you were shocked from the emotional roller coaster you had just experienced and snapped back again only when he asked,

"Don't you like it?"

"No! Its really beautiful!! I mean i never thought you would give me a handmade gift....this is the secret from that day on the beach right?"

His coughing fit started and you got him a glass of water.

"yes...i asked Chuuya-San and gin what to do with the pearl and they gave me this idea... they said it was popular with girls these days....i don't know why you would like wearing something this weak but it....suits you"

You laughed a bit at his nervous excuse. He had brought it to you with the best of intentions so who were you to not like it!

"It's beautiful Ryu....the thought and the gift both of them"

"Its my evocative of you...."

He blushed a bit at your appreciation and attempted at hiding it by hugging you.

He didn't push you away this time when you put your arms around him and played with his hair. It was a long time before you both let go of each other.

BONUS~

You both were lying on the bed with you fiddling with the pearl necklace when you saw that Ryu had a faint blush on his face recounting today's events. He had become vulnerable in fornt of you today and it was a big step in your relationship.

"I loved this Ryu..However how about you keep the position and packaging of gift in mind before you give it to someone......you know? not getting their hopes up......", you said the last part inaudible.

"I thought you were going to propose"

You laughed at the hilarious situation you were in moments ago.

"I will keep that in mind......I will be in that position soon again....and i wonder what your answer will be but......its not the time yet"

He said the last part like a whisper as if ashamed.

He turned around only to find you sound asleep holding onto his arms. He was disappointed you did not hear him but he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and held you close in his arms

Kya~ hope you liked it! he is such a cutie~

this is my gift to you! hope you like it!!!

@nullified-kiss

#bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #akutagawa x reader bsd x reader #bsd fluff #drabble #bsd x reader #aku x reader

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gayestnerdsinfiction · 3 years

Text

The Takeover

Jonathan has never considered himself a passive person. He’s not the type of man to just let things happen to him. He’s always been the one in control, the one to decide what he wants and take it by any means necessary. Jonathan doesn’t like allowing people to hold influence over his life, which makes it all the more mystifying that Edward was easily able to waltz in and take over his entire home.

Jonathan genuinely doesn’t remember when or how Edward moved himself in. At first they were just working together, plain and simple. Jonathan may be more of a solitary person, but he’s collaborated with some of the other rogues before. He knows how those arrangements typically go. He knows there is nothing typical about his arrangement with Edward.

It wasn’t sexual in the beginning, in fact they were barely even friendly. Edward would stop by, spend a few hours in the lab or bent over a blueprint, and he would leave. And it went on like that for a while, until the day Edward kissed him.

Jonathan really hadn’t seen that coming. He’s usually perceptive, good at reading people from his days as a therapist. He’s never quite gotten the hang of picking up on romantic cues. He knew Edward liked him enough to spend his precious time at his house, but he didn’t notice anything more than he would expect from a friend. But, then again, his experiences with and expectations for friendship probably aren’t the best reference point.

Edward’s memory of that span of time, on the other hand, is notably different. According to him, he’d been flirting the whole time. Jonathan is more than a little embarrassed that he couldn’t tell. Edward, to this day, finds the whole thing hilarious. Bastard.

Jonathan didn’t want to give Edward the satisfaction of admitting he liked him, but his colleague is nothing if not persistent. It was only a matter of weeks before they were sleeping together, sharing a bed in the evenings, cooking dinner for each other. The whole thing was disgustingly domestic and Jonathan was surprised to find that he loved it. No one had ever cared for him before, had ever taken care of him. It felt good having someone who wanted to make sure he was alright, who wanted to make things alright if they weren’t. It felt good to be wanted. He would never say such a thing out loud, but he didn’t want Edward to leave. And in the end, he didn’t have to say it. Edward seemed to decide on his own that he didn’t want to leave either.

“You’re getting ash everywhere,” Edward says, depositing an ashtray on the kitchen table as he passes on his way to the fridge.

“Thanks.” Jonathan taps the end of his cigarette, letting the ash fall into the ceramic dish. He pushes his glasses up on his nose, looking intently down at his notes. Crosses something out and scribbles a correction in the margin. He sighs. Leans back in his chair.

Edward opens the fridge, poking around inside. “Everything alright?”

“I’m getting sloppy,” he mutters. “I keep finding little mistakes. These pages are fucked.”

“You’re probably exhausted. Your work is suffering.” He takes a container of leftover pasta out of the fridge and cracks the lid, inspecting it. “I could take a look in the morning if you like.”

“That’d be good. You’re better with all the math stuff than I am.”

“You told me you took three statistics classes.”

“Yeah, and I nearly failed every single one.” Jonathan shakes his head, taking his glasses off and setting them down on top of the notebook. “To be fair I was on a lot of drugs at the time, but sobriety hasn’t seemed to improve my mathematical skills.”

Edward shakes his head, spooning pasta onto two plates. “Don’t you need to be good at math to be a researcher?” he asks, putting the first plate into the microwave.

“You know, my doctoral advisor asked me the same thing. But look at me now.”

“Believe me, I’m looking,” Edward says with a small smile. “And I like what I see.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking one plate out of the microwave and putting the other in its place. “I don’t know if your doctoral advisor would, but I do.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Oh, my doctoral advisor would be very disappointed in me. I mean, I have been publicly disgraced, stripped of my license, and institutionalized since she knew me. Shit, I’m a little disappointed in myself, too.”

“Don’t be. You’re a celebrity criminal and mad scientist. As far as I’m concerned, you should be very proud of your villainous accomplishments.” Edward slides the notebook aside to set a steaming plate of pasta and a fork on the table in front of Jonathan. “Eat.”

“You’re always feeding me,” he remarks, taking the fork into his hand nonetheless. “Trying to fatten me up?”

“Yes. I have a divine recipe from my cannibal cookbook that I’ve been dying to try.” He takes his own plate out of the microwave and sits down at the table across from Jonathan. “I think I’ll roast you with herbs and potatoes, how does that sound?”

Jonathan scoops a forkful of pasta into his mouth. It feels good to eat; he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything all day. He wonders if Edward realized it too.“Sounds better for you than it does for me.”

“Of course. You know I only care about myself, darling.”

He looks up at Edward, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his lips. “How could I forget?”

#scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #jonathan crane #edward nygma #my writing #batman #dc #my fic

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

☆⌒ hilltop — bang chan | fluff, boyfriend au | 1394 words | slight kissing

“Hey, you mint-head!”

Chan stops in his path halfway through, turning around to squint through the lush green trees and bushes when he spots your ruined and debilitated form trying to catch up with her overly-active boyfriend. He chuckles when you hesitantly place a hand on a tall tree’s bark, crouching down on the moist, wet floor to catch your breath.

“I’m not as fit as you are, did you forget?” You heave out, shifting from one foot to the other because the trekking shoes Chan had given you were one-size-too-small, and now your feet felt like they were enclosed with molten-hot-lava. Yikes, not cool.

��Did you just call me mint-head?” Your boyfriend raises an eyebrow, sauntering towards you before taking a seat on the random wooden bench that’s littered here and there on the pat to the top of the hill.

“Well,” You take a deep breath, uncapping the water bottle — thank god you’d brought one — before taking a nice gulp of the liquid. It feels cool and refreshing when it runs down your throat. Once you cap the bottle back, you speak again. “You deserve it, for dragging my ass to this —” A clapping sound echoes throughout the space and you separate your hands, pushing off the dead mosquito on your hand. “— wild forest, even though I told you we could’ve just taken the photos on the apartment’s terrace.”

“Oh come on,” Chan laughs heartily, slinging an arm over your shoulder before dabbing his handkerchief over your sweaty forehead. “It’s just a fucking hill, stop being such a drama llama. It’s literally just a straight walk up.”

“But we’ve been walking for hours!”

“Actually, we’ve only been walking for five minutes.”

“Sorry, you’re the one who literally carried me against my will from my comfortable bed and into this weird ass place, and all for dumb —” you swat at another mosquito. “Photos. Yeah, I think I have to right to be mad.”

“Hey, now let’s not get too angry there.” Chan runs his hand through his mint green hair. “The view from the top is magnificent, just give it a chance, babe. You do remember what I promised you once we’ve successfully reached the top, right?”

You scowl and then that gradually morphs into a pout as you shove your water bottle back into your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder. “It doesn’t even seem worthy anymore — all this climbing for one kiss?”

“Oh please,” Chan smirks, crossing his arms against his chest. “You’ve always told me I’m a good kisser, so you can’t tell me that you aren’t the slightest bit excited for this.”

“Yeesh, stop being so cocky—” A slap at his chest and you get up, ignoring the fiery feeling in the apples of your cheeks as you walk further up the hill. “You better catch up or no kiss for you!”

“Hey that was my deal!”

Once you and Chan both reach the top of the hill — albeit with a lot of groaning and complaining — the first thing you do is kick off your damn shoes and revel in the feeling of the cold grass under your feet, and finally, finally, some circulation to let your feet breathe! You feel as free as a bird, as calm as a swan in a lake —

“Why are you standing over there like you’re in the Titanic movie?” Chan asks, biting his lip to muffle out his giggles while you scowl at him once again.

“Because someone —” You smile, pointing at your boyfriend who’s trying hilariously hard to not laugh at how silly you look right now. “Decided to bring me here when I was totally—”

“Oh shut it, don’t start again.” Honestly, Chan isn’t even offended over how dramatic you’re being. You’re overly loud, chaotic, and look at the fun sides in life (expect for now, surprisingly) and Chan is calm, patient and more diplomatic in his approach. You two are opposites, but that’s what attracts both of you.

Plus, he finds it absolutely adorable, and all he wants to do is throw his camera away and cradle you into his arms and shower you in praise. Your dorkiness only brings out his affectionate side more — and Chan’s an affectionate person already.

“Ugh, fineeee...” You whine. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“Okay, so — stand there.” He points to the railing that surrounds the hill and you nod, moving to take your position. The cold grass and the air feels oddly nice, so you feel energetic. Maybe this photoshoot will go well after all.

The next two hours is spent with you and Chan taking pictures of each other, the scenery, and you also throw in a couple photos of Chan stuffing his cheeks with the sushi you’d picked up on the way — those were private and confidential though, because your boyfriend looked so cute when his cheeks were filled with food, and you were selfish and wanted all that serotonin for yourself.

Honestly Chan doesn’t even care about the photos — neither do you, but you’ve made it clear since the beginning — he just wants to spend quality time with his girlfriend, and college’s been an absolute pain in the ass — he misses going on silly yet nice dates with you.

Even Chan manages to catch a few portrait photos of you when you aren’t looking, and for all intents and purposes he will be keeping it to himself — because your beauty deserves to be admired, and just like you, Chan is selfish to share it.

Seems like you both fit together perfectly.

When the photoshoot is done, you decide to separate from the cameras a bit and gaze at the sun that’s going down bit by but, bestowing it’s existence with a magnificent view. The sky is tinted the slightest orange, mixed with a hint of pink and blue, and the scenery itself is picture-worthy.

“So...” You say, having calmed down from your burst of energy from before. “Today was nice.”

“What —” Chan says with sarcastic intent, gasping and clutching at his heart like he’s in grave shock. Now he’s the one who’s being dramatic. “— Didn’t you say it wasn’t worth my kiss?”

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes playfully, quirking your brow before gazing off into the afternoon-evening sky.

“Pfft, I’ll shut up after we finish the one more picture we have to take.”

“What picture, didn’t we have all of them already?”

“Nope, stand here.”

Chan runs to fix his tripod stand a few feet away from where you’re standing, setting the timer before rushing back to his place.

“This one’s special, so please get rid of the grouchy face.” You frown, but nonetheless smile at his excitement.

“Okay so, close your eyes.”

A raised eyebrow is thrown in his direction, but you still comply, extremely curious to know what your boyfriend was up to.

“I swear to god, if you pull that thing you did to me last time when you put a bug in my hand I will —” Hey, you were just being proactive! The bug incident had freaked the fuck out of you, so much that you didn’t go near Chan for a whole two days until he’d apologized and bought you McDonalds.

But oh god, what you felt was so, so much better than that prank.

Soft lips press against your own and efficiently shut you up, leave be for the muffled nose that rolls off your tongue in surprise. His lips move with synchrony, and you barely notice the camera flash behind you when Chan cups your cheeks and you wrap your hands around his waist, delving deeper and deeper and deeper until you ran out of breath. Not that you didn’t feel breathless when Chan got like this, and you loved every bit of it.

When you pull away, you gasp for air, panting as you rest your forehead against Chan’s.

“So,” He says, rubbing his thumb against your cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. “Was it worth it?” He cocks an eyebrow, and you giggly softly, pulling him into a hug.

“You know it always will be.”

And the framed picture of you and Chan kissing under the medium-orange toned sunset looks ever-the-pretty on your room’s wall.

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz chan fluff #stray kids chan fluff #chan fluff #bang chan fluff #chan imagines #chan scenarios

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grendelsmilf · 3 years

Note

Do yuo have Voltron opinions

what’s wild about this question is that for all intents and purposes, i absolutely should not, because i am not the kind of person who would even know what voldron is, let alone have opinions about it. but for some reason, the first season of that show came on netflix at around the same exact time i was in too much pain to move from my bed or even read books, so i basically just watched tv all day. and so at one point, my friend and i watched the first season of vultran, and i was so delirious from my fever that i may as well have been drunk, or high, or both, so it was a highly entertaining experience (that i would never repeat while sober). and then, because this show, which i have seen one whole season of, sort of became an inside joke for me, i liked observing the fandom in a sort of anthropological sense, which probably wasn’t the most healthy behavior, but it was amusing for me nonetheless. so without further ado, here are my vulcan opinions:

the first season was poorly written as all hell and anyone who thought the show could only get better was out of their goddamn gourd. it’s a show about robots turning into a giant robot and it never had any depth to begin with

like the writing was so stilted and unnatural i’m amazed that anyone managed to watch that show sober enough to retain any major or minor plot details

plus the plot was shallow as all hell. no depth no depth

karl and lants were the most annoying characters by far. everyone else was nice and normal but they both had obnoxious teenage boy disease and also seeing them compared to zuko and sokka respectively is a goddamn hatecrime . like honestly. how dare people say this !!!!

also yes, they absolutely were queerbaited. the writers of that show were deliciously homophobic and not to be cruel but i find it kind of funny just like. how obvious they were??? lmfaoo

speaking of which, the fact that they decided to make shiro, of all characters, gay, is also a hatecrime!!! that man eats pussy i just know it. why deny us that male-feminist chad rep . smh

i think allura and hunk should’ve gotten together for no other reason than it would’ve been cute

it’s kind of hilarious how u can’t even say “maybe dreamworks/netflix modern cartoon adaptation of 80s action figure toy commercial with corny plot and no depth characters simply cannot be rewritten in a way that is good and nuanced” because she-ra did the exact same thing, and their names are fucking catra and glimmer and mermista and shit, and it slaps actually. sucks 2 suck i guess!!!

#this ask was wild cuz normally id just be like 'no idek what that is'#but ACTUALLY #dksjhfkjfkfjngl #ask #anon #o.tv

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miraculous-anna · 4 years

Text

Opposite Day (Or DuPont's Worst Nightmare) Part 3: Ladybug is that HBIC

Hi everyone!!! So, here's the next chapter of ODDWN! And from what you can tell of the title, yes, this is where Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat the Akuma, or essentially, the last main chapter. I'm gonna be doing an aftermath obviously, but right now we're gonna focus on Ladybug telling Chat Noir off. Cause let's be real, Adrien doesn't know what "no" means, and Marinette is way too nice to actually tell him off. THANKFULLY, she doesn't have a filter, so this kitty's getting skinned.

Enjoy! :)

(To get a feel for this chapter, listen to either rules by doja cat, or confident by Justin Bieber and chance the rapper. Your choice lol)

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇

First / Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Walking out of the classroom, Marinette turned to walk down the stairs. "Dupain-Cheng." Marinette stopped in her tracks, and turned around towards Chloe. "What, brat?" Marinette glared. She was hungry, and getting stopped was annoying her.

Chloe huffed at the insult. Turning her head, "I was, gonna say you could hang out with me and Sabrina now that you have a spine, but for that insult I'm reconsidering."

Marinette laughed, clearly mocking the other girl. "No thanks, I don't hang out with entitled brats like you. I mean, seriously? You?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes. Marinette was about to walk away when Chloe growled. "Excuse you?! I am Chloe Bourgeois! I have everything, like you would ever understand!"

"Oh Chloe, we both know you're lying. Even to yourself." Marinette looked over her shoulder, before turning slightly. "What does that mean?" Chloe placed her hands on her hips. "You don't have everything you could ever want, isn't that right?" Marinette smiled in mock sympathy. "Of course I do! I'm the mayor's daughter!" Chloe hesitated, not knowing what Marinette was getting at.

"Yes, you are the mayor's daughter, yes you're rich, but none of those things can give you what you truly want," Marinette shook her head, walking in a slow circle around the blonde. "Your mom left you," Chloe flinched at that remark. Marinette continued, "Your dad isn't there for you," Another flinch, Chloe curled her fists. "You only have one friend, and everyone hates you." Marinette stopped walking, she stood behind her. Grasping her shoulders, Marinette spoke in Chloe's ears. "Poor, poor Chloe. You're alone, and no one truly understands you. But who's fault is that? Who's fault is it that everyone cowers before you?"

Chloe looked to be on the verge of tears, not that Marinette could see. "You want friends, and you want people to care about you, right? No one's ever paid attention to you, and no one cared enough." Marinette sighed, taking on a sympathetic voice. "What are you getting at, Dupain-Cheng?" Chloe whispered, knowing if she spoke louder her voice would crack. "You don't have to be alone, Chloe. You don't have to have people be scared of you. You brought this upon yourself by being a horrible person. But," Marinette let go of Chloe's shoulders. Walking towards the stairs, she turned to look back at the other girl. "Even you can be redeemed. You just have to try."

With that, Marinette left an emotional Chloe at the top of the staircase. "Stupid Dupain-Cheng, what does she know?" Chloe whispered, rubbing at her eyes furiously.

♤○♤○♤○♤○♤○

Running into the bathroom, Marinette locked the door to her stall, and opened her purse. "Marinette! Let's hurry! We've waited too long, who knows what the akuma has done!" Tikki cries in a whisper, flying out of the purse. "I know, Tikki, don't lecture me." Marinette grumbles, calling her transformation.

Now on the roof of her school, Marinette listens intently for the sound of an akuma. Lo and behold, a few blocks down came the screams. "Guess he circled around the city." Marinette murmured, swinging onto the building across the street. There, in the street down below stood the akuma Opposite Man. He had a staff he used to zap people, and had what looked like smoke bombs to affect groups of people.

From what she could tell, Marinette deduced that the staff made you do the opposite of what you're trying to do, and the smoke bomb affects your personality. That's why I felt weird today, and the purple smoke in the air. Marinette thought, suddenly realizing.

She analyzed the scene below, trying to find a way to restrain him, and get his akumatized object. She heard a thump from behind her and internally cursed. She didn't need his recklessness this time. Ladybug had a job to do.

"Hello, M'lady! I've missed you, my bugaboo!" Chat Noir purred, leaning on his staff. Ladybug stood up, and slowly turned to face him, while saying sarcastically, "Oh wow, M'lady and Bugaboo? Using both names which you know I hate? You must be here to be a nuisance --as usual" Ladybug crossed her arms, titling her head with a mock surprised face, before dropping it and glaring at him.

"Me-ouch, M'lady! No need to be so harsh! I'm just here to be your savior! After all, it is what good boyfriends do!" Chat Noir exclaimed, reaching to touch her. Marinette didn't know what he wanted to touch, but it frightened her nonetheless. Normally, she would flinch back, and try to put distance, but the akuma’s powers, no, they didn't let her.

Grabbing his wrist before he can touch her, Ladybug sneered. "Don't fucking touch me, you mangy cat!" Chat Noir tried to pull his hand back, but Ladybug wasn't done. "You know what you are, Chat Noir?" A step forward. Ladybug had the hand with the ring on it, not that Chat noticed. No, he was too shocked his lady was talking back to him. Where was this confidence? She never fought back!

No, no, you can't let your victim fight you! Chat had to fix this! His thoughts were broken when Ladybug spoke again. "You're nothing, but a nuisance, a menace, a reckless little brat, and--" Insult after Insult. Each insult equaled a step closer, till she backed him up against the edge of the roof.

"M'lady! Now, don't get so riled up! You're only acting this way cause you got hit! We can defeat the Akuma and go back to normal!--" Chat Noir rambled, desperately trying not to fall off the tall building they were on. It was three stories, and if he fell, his staff couldn't save him, it was knocked away from him, but Ladybug cut him off. "You mean the akuma I'm going to defeat, you're useless, you can't do anything to help me. In fact, I don't need you at all!" Ladybug shouted, her grip on his wrist getting tighter. Harder for him to break out of, she mused in her head.

"Don't lie, Ladybug! We're meant for each other! You're the only one that doesn't see it. Come on! Let go so we can get you back to normal." Chat Noir rolled his eyes, smiling his signature Adrien Sunshine Boy smile. This would convince her, surely-- Ladybug's expression only darkened. "Right, cause when I'm back to normal, I don't fight you. I'm a doormat when I'm normal, gives you more opportunities to harass and get away with the shit you do. And we're not "meant" for each other, you asshat. You're a horrible person, and I hate you!" Ladybug was screaming by now. She grabbed his fingers, ready to slip off the ring. He looked to shocked at her declaration to notice at first.

"Chat Noir, by order of the Guardian of the Miraculous, You are hereby revoked of your miraculous, and you'll face the full consequences of your actions." He looked enraged at her order, and tried to break free. "Catacly--" He tried to shout, but she laughed. "I'll just tie you up and take it after you transform back forcefully. Like I said, you're fucking stupid." Still laughing, she smirked as he did it anyway.

She let go of him, and before he could run away, tied him up with her yoyo. Quickly attaching him to a pole on the roof, Ladybug rolled her eyes. "I told you, you stupid cat."

Sighing, she waited till she heard the beeping start. Leaning against the opposite wall, Ladybug watched with unnatural satisfaction as Chat Noir yelled, screamed, and demanded she put him down. She couldn't do this to him, he'd cry over and over. To the Ladybug of yesterday, his cries would be answered, and she'd let him down. Apologize and turn around, waiting for him to recharge.

To the Ladybug of now, however, it was hilarious. Hearing him yelling and screeching. He was terrified of the consequences, apparently. Then came the final beep, and then came her devilish grin.

The look of terror on his face caused her to laugh. Before he detransformed, Marinette said one last thing. "Bye bye, little kitty. I hope you rot in hell," releasing him as his transformation fell, Ladybug grabbed Chats, no, Adrien's wrist-- she was too happy, and too satisfied to break down from the new hole in her heart-- and yanked the ring off his finger.

Ladybug didn't look back as she took off towards the akuma that had made it's way down a few blocks. No, not even to acknowledge the screaming pleas of Adrien Agreste.

•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧•♧

Hey there! So, I finished the Final Main Part of ODDWN! Hope you guys liked it, it was a bit rushed at the end, I wanted to get this written by Sunday. Now, by the time you've read this, its Monday (Today). I'll get to writing the aftermath chapter for this story tonight, and it'll be up sometime around this week or the next, depending on how long I want it to be, or what I want to happen. If you have any questions, requests, or prompt recommendations please feel free to send me an ask!!

I hope you guys enjoyed!! Taglist below!

@charming-mage

@agent-numbuh-227

@whatsupwithjinx

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever’s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

877 notes · View notes

pink-flame · 3 years

Text

Not Working - For Lilly 💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLY!

For @chickwiththepurpleguitar

So, this is set in the world of WFW about a year after Julie left but it's not canon (yes I have my own canon 😂) within the WFW universe. In the world of my actual fic Luke and Bobby are just chaotic best friends/brothers who show their platonic love through fighting constantly. However, Lilly wanted Bobby pining after Luke in this universe and I love her so I have created this un-official splinter universe for her hc to live in. It does incorporate some of my actual ideas for the end of Sunset Curve in that original timeline though, just minus the pining. 😂 I hope you like it, my friend! ��(Also, I only went 100 words over our agreed upon word limit. Aren't you proud???)

It wasn’t working.

That was Bobby’s main thought as they packed up all their gear at the end of one of the final shows of their first tour. It was at least 2am, possibly later and they were all dragging as they forced their bodies through the second nature routine of getting everything safely into Beatrice. They had been all up and down the West Coast for the past few months, playing to decent sized crowds and getting a good response. The problem was this tour was supposed to be the thing that pushed them to the next level of success and that...that clearly wasn’t working.

Radio stations were completely uninterested in booking them to promote their performances.

Multiple venues had pulled out of hosting them at the last minute despite tickets already being sold, leaving them scrambling to find alternatives or canceling stops outright.

Even the company that printed their cheap t-shirts had politely declined their request to re-up their order.

It was like Sunset Curve had gone from being a band on the verge to a band on the verge of being unable to book a gig. None of this was that surprising given the fact that they had gone against Dec from Red Rose Records, an executive famous for holding grudges and exerting every bit of his influence to make things difficult for his targets. Part of Bobby had wanted to believe that Queenie would be able to intervene on their behalf, that she would finally stand up to her dad and find a way to make things easier for all of them. Part of him had wanted to believe she still cared enough about him to try.

Maybe she had and maybe she hadn’t and at the end of the day he couldn’t blame her either way. It had been a terrible situation all around...Luke’s attitude and Queenie’s dad insisting on that unfair contract and Bobby himself being completely incapable of putting everything out in the open when he was so scared of losing either Queenie or Luke. And that was to say nothing of Julie...all the absolute insanity that had been going on with Julie even though none of them knew it. It was because of her that he knew things could have gone much worse, could have ended with his friends dead and him as a hollow rockstar who betrayed the people he loved the most.

So even though he had loved Queenie (was probably still in love with her) and things with the band were quickly going downhill, he couldn’t bring himself to be entirely as depressed about those facts as he would have expected. He had his friends, they had each other, and they still had music. That wasn’t something anyone could take from them. It wasn’t perfect but it was enough. For him it was enough.

But he was also a realist and the reality was that things with the band weren’t working.

By the time they made it back to the questionable motel where they were staying for the night they were all dragging even more. Alex and Reggie disappeared into one of the rooms right away, barely pausing to wave goodnight to Bobby and Luke before they were shutting the door in their faces and presumably collapsing directly into bed. At the start of the tour they had all four shared a room in an effort to make their almost nonexistent tour budget stretch a little further but Alex had promptly declared Luke’s talking (and sometimes singing) in his sleep to be a crime against humanity and that to avoid him ending up with a murder charge they were going to need seperate rooms. Reggie had immediately started listing off various games he and Bobby could play to decide who got stuck sharing with Luke but Bobby had shut them all up by volunteering. That had earned him an odd look from Alex but Luke had clapped him on the back and made a speech about how it was nice to have someone on his side and the warm feeling that bloomed in Bobby’s chest was enough to help him forget opening his mouth meant he wouldn’t be sleeping much for the rest of the tour.

If he was being honest though he hadn’t exactly slept well for the better part of 2 years now. Even before Julie had arrived and all the madness that followed, Bobby had spent most nights laying awake for hours unable to fully ignore the fact that Luke was out in Wonderland curled up uncomfortably on that damn couch he still hadn’t figured out folded out. Bobby had spent a lot of time thinking about that and why exactly he could neither bring himself to go out and unfold the dumb bed himself and make sure Luke was ok or just fall asleep and ignore his friend’s relative comfort. So instead he had drifted off most nights tossing and turning, worrying about the boy who was so close and yet a world away.

So it really wasn’t that big of an adjustment for Bobby to be lying awake in various seedy motel rooms, trying no to think about how thoroughly the sheets had been cleaned and listening for the even breaths that would indicate his friend was getting some rest. He was often awakened again before long when Luke started talking in his sleep, snippets of nonsense bleeding into half-finished song lyrics fading into Julie’s name.

Bobby pretended to be asleep. He pretended not to hear.

He was a coward in some ways, always had been.

He didn’t have Alex’s wise advice or Reggie’s unexpected insights or Luke’s inspiring speeches. He didn’t have Queenie’s blunt truth telling. He didn’t even have Julie’s ability to make everything better simply by making sure you knew she was with you.

He just had good intentions and a tendency to avoid his problems, a useless combination.

But even he couldn’t ignore the way on this particular night Luke’s breathing never did even out. Instead, after barely twenty minutes of both of them lying still in their uncomfortable beds, Bobby listened as Luke slipped out of bed, pulled on his sneakers and slipped outside. He instantly sat up in the darkness and debated his next move. The typical Bobby move would be to lay back down and pretend he hadn’t noticed. That’s probably what Luke expected him to do. It might have even been what he wanted Bobby to do.

But Bobby was so sick of turning away and pretending he didn’t see what was happening around him. Pretending he didn’t see the blow up between Queenie and Luke coming, pretending he didn’t see that Julie was hiding something, pretending the writing wasn’t on the wall when it came to the future of Sunset Curve. Pretending he didn’t see how Luke still missed Julie like a phantom limb, an empty space that nonetheless managed to be an aching wound. Pretending Queenie didn’t represent the same to him. Pretending that despite the fact that he had loved Queenie (probably still did) he also thought...maybe...the other ache he felt came from loving something else...someone else...so much closer yet just as out of reach.

That wasn’t something he could ever say out loud. It just wasn’t. He was a realist and the reality was that Luke had loved Julie, still did and always would in a way that Bobby couldn’t fully understand even though he had witnessed it up close. He was never going to be the brave one, the one who told the truth just for the sake of doing it, just for an impossible chance.

So he couldn’t say out loud his inconvenient truth that maybe he had fallen in love with his best friend, just a little bit. He couldn’t.

But he could force his sock clad feet down onto the disgusting motel carpet. He could put his shoes on and slip outside and make sure his best friend was ok.

He could do that.

So he did.

At first as he blinked into the semi-darkness of the parking lot, a few flickering bulbs the only available source of light, he didn’t spot Luke at all. He felt a brief sense of rising panic flicker through him until the sound of shifting metal had his eyes darting over to the spot where Beatrice was parked. He squinted and could just make out Luke’s silhouette, hauling himself up onto the roof of Bobby’s van.

Bobby’s concern quickly melted into annoyance as he stomped over, coming to a stop next to his van and hissing up at the boy on top.

“What the hell are you doing up there?” Bobby demanded. “You’re going to put so many dents in the roof!”

Luke just scoffed, leaning over to peer down at Bobby with an annoyingly not at all repentant smile.

“Come on, Bobby,” He fired back. “Beatrice is 90% dents at this point. It’s part of her charm.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong there.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re up there,” Bobby grumbled.

Some of the cockiness drained out of Luke’s voice when he spoke again.

“Couldn’t sleep. Sometimes...sometimes looking at the stars helps.”

Bobby didn’t have to ask what exactly looking at the stars helped. He knew. And it wasn’t falling asleep.

It was missing Julie.

So Bobby didn’t fire back any of the relevant and bitingly hilarious retorts on the tip of his tongue. He simply sighed deeply before gripping the hood and hauling himself up to join his friend. If Luke was surprised by his decision he didn’t say anything, only reached his hand down to help pull Bobby up the rest of the way until they were both settled on the roof. Luke laid back and rested one of his arms behind his head as a pillow and Bobby mirrored him on the other side, their shoulders just brushing.

He had to admit, the view of the sky was a lot better than it had any right to be given where they were. Apparently they were just far enough outside of the city that the stars had a chance against the glow of civilization. The tiny pinpricks of light stretched out as far as he could see, their patterns and forms probably lost on Luke but he doubted his friend had come up here for a lesson on constellations and myths so Bobby kept his mouth shut.

Or at least he did for about 30 seconds before he glanced over at Luke and immediately regretted that decision. It was too hard to ignore all of the things he had been working so hard lately to ignore when they were this close.

He cleared his throat and brought his focus back to the reason he had followed Luke out in the first place.

“Any better?” He asked simply, rolling his head back to its original position so he could stare at the much safer vision of the stars again.

Bobby felt Luke shrug, his shoulder jostling against Bobby’s briefly.

“A little,” He said, sucking in a deep breath and then releasing it. “I just figure these are probably the same stars Julie’s looking at, you know?”

“Except for the ones obscured by 25 years of additional light pollution,” Bobby agreed.

“Wow, thanks, buddy,” Luke said dejectedly.

Bobby sighed and tried again.

“You know none of the stars we’re seeing are actually as they appear now, right? They’re so far away that even though that light is traveling to us extremely quickly it can still take years to get here.”

“I didn’t come up here for Bobby’s science time,” Luke mumbled.

“I’m saying that looking at the stars is like looking into the past,” Bobby insisted. “Julie’s probably not only looking up at the same stars, some of the one’s she’s seeing are how they appeared right here, right now. Isn’t that kind of cool?”

There was a brief pause giving Bobby just enough time to wonder if he had blown it again before Luke answered.

“Yeah,” Luke grumbled begrudgingly. “That is cool.”

Bobby couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction at that. Science could be comforting at times even if literature was his first love. The point was it had worked and he and Luke were back on solid ground again, or at least back on the creaking and protesting roof of his poor van.

“Have you heard from Queenie?” Luke asked, startling Bobby from his thoughts.

Bobby stiffened and shook his head before realizing it was too dark for Luke to see that gesture.

“Nah,” He answered, keeping his voice forcibly casual.

“Sorry,” Luke said simply.

“I’m sorry it’s still so hard,” Bobby returned. “Without Julie.”

“It’s fine,” Luke replied quickly. “Well, not fine, it’s hard everyday. You know that, but...I’m ok. I really am. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I obviously do,” Bobby snapped before realizing his mistake. “I mean all of us do.”

If Luke noticed his slip he didn’t comment on it.

“I’m always going to miss her,” He said softly. “But I believe she’s happy with her family and I have you guys and music and I’m happy too. Mostly. Usually.”

Bobby tried and failed not to let that traitorous warmth grow in his chest again at the thought of being one of the things that made Luke happy.

It wasn’t working.

So he turned his attention to the other thing that wasn’t working, the other conversation they needed to have, in an effort to distract himself.

“The tour’s almost over,” He started carefully. “Time to make some decisions.”

Luke let out another one of those deep breaths, Bobby instinctively scooting just half an inch closer until he could reassure himself with the feeling of Luke’s next inhale.

“I know,” Luke acknowledged, his voice sounding tired but not pained.

“Dec’s never going to let this band make it big,” Bobby continued gently. “And we’re almost out of money. Again.”

“I know that too,” Luke said softly. “I just wanted to finish out the tour before I made myself accept it. Even with all the struggling it has been pretty rad, hasn’t it?”

Bobby thought back to the hours and hours of driving in a smelly van and the gross motels and the cancellations and the crappy pay and the absolutely crushing exhaustion. He also thought back to the time spent with his best friends, and the small crowds singing their words back to them, and their dream, or at least some small portion of it that they had scraped and bled to come true.

He thought of Luke’s elated grin when they were playing their first song every night.

“Yeah,” He agreed with a soft smile that he knew Luke wouldn’t be able to see. “It’s been pretty rad.”

“We could keep trying…” Luke offered half-heartedly. “If we keep pushing long enough maybe something in this industry will give.”

“Or we’ll end up washed up and hating each other,” Bobby countered.

“That’s another possibility,” Luke sighed yet again. “But this is all we’ve got, Bobby.”

“Reggie’s been applying to film schools,” Bobby said, cringing at the groaning metal noise that came with Luke’s surprised reaction as he rolled toward his friend.

“He has? Why didn’t he tell me?” Luke asked.

“Nobody wants to let you down,” Bobby explained gently, turning his head to meet Luke’s confused gaze. “We love music, we do. We wanted this, so badly, you know that. But...it’s not like it is for you. It’s not...everything.”

“He could have told me,” Luke grumbled. “I would have been happy for him. I am happy for him.”

“Hey, you can tell him that tomorrow,” Bobby reassured him. “I figure we’re due for one last band meeting.”

“This sucks,” Luke huffed out, turning his head back up to the stars. “Like I don’t have any regrets cause we gave it our best shot, and I want all of you to be happy even if that’s not in the band. But on top of...well, everything else...it still sucks.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed simply. “It really sucks.”

“What are you going to do?” Luke asked.

“I don’t know,” Bobby offered honestly. “Maybe go to college? Study literature or psychology.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be a shrink like your parents,” Luke teased.

“Hey, I think we’ve all proven that there are a lot of kids out there who could use someone to talk to about their messed up family dynamics,” Bobby said.

“Too bad they might get stuck talking to you,” Luke joked, bumping his shoulder with Bobby’s and sending an incredibly annoying shock of happiness through him.

“Shut up,” Bobby mumbled, not meaning it. Not at all.

There were a few seconds of silence before Luke spoke up again.

“I really am happy for all of you to do whatever you want,” He said firmly. “Seriously. But I can’t give up on music.”

“I know,” Bobby said softly. “It won’t be easy.”

“Hey,” Luke replied. “I figure impossible is relative in my life at this point.”

Bobby couldn’t resist a short bark of laughter at that.

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

They were silent again for a few long moments before Bobby found just enough courage to give voice to one last fear.

“Hey, Luke? We’re still going to be friends right?”

Luke’s answer came quickly.

“Of course, man. You’re my best friend. Band or no band.”

Bobby nodded, not caring this time that Luke couldn’t see him. When he answered he could hear the held back tears in his voice and he was pretty sure Luke could too.

“Band or no band.”

Luke reached out blindly and latched his hand around Bobby’s, just for a second, but the contact was enough to leave Bobby’s fingers tingling long after his friend had retracted his.

He tried to pretend that it was just the result of some kind of electric shock but…it wasn’t working.

Still.

He couldn’t bring himself to be sad about managing to fall in love with yet another person who couldn’t give him everything he wanted.

Julie had taught them a lot of things but one of the big ones was that something didn’t have to end the way you hoped it would for it to be beautiful, and meaningful and worth it. Love didn’t have to be forever or even returned in the same way to be beautiful, and meaningful and worth it.

Bobby had loved both Queenie and Luke (he probably still did) and he didn’t regret either.

Queenie would always be someone he wished the best for from afar and Luke?

Luke would always be his best friend.

Band or no band.

And that would keep working

He would make sure of it.

#my fics #we found wonderland vibes #lobby #lukebobby #not canon #but some delicious pining for my friend #because what is friendship if not creating ultra specific splinter universes to cater to each other's tastes #HAPPY BIRTHDAY LILLY

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