#I need a new pinned post to replace my masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Muddled Waters 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your boss has a dangerous secret.

Character: Nick Fowler (mob au)

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved.

You skewer candied cherries on a long toothpick and balance them over a martini glass. The deep blue drink with a layer of foam is perfectly aligned with the crystal brim. You stand straight as you top off the last of the drinks, a new batch for the waiting customers.

You put the small silver measuring cup aside and nearly cry out as the silhouette hovering in the corner of your vision moves. You touch your chest in surprise as you face Nick with a bashful smile. You didn’t even know he was around that day. Lately, he’s been absent more than not.

“Oh, hi,” you laugh at yourself, “I didn’t hear you...”

“I have a bad habit of that,” he grins, “some have compared me to a cat.”

You tilt your head, “some? You mean, me?”

He shrugs, “was that you?

“Maybe,” you turn and carefully move the stemmed glasses to a tray.

“New flavour?” He nears and stands close. You can smell his cedar cologne.

“Blueberry,” you explain, “bit sweet for my tastes but it fits the season.”

“Ah, sounds interesting,” he reaches and takes one of the glasses and you gasp.

“Nick!” You turn to him and he grins as he sips, the foam clinging to his top lip. He hums as he removes the toothpick from across the rim and nibbles off one of the cherries.

“Tasty,” he commends.

“Why-- Now I’ll to make another.”

“They can wait. It’s more than worth it,” he assures, still standing close as he slurps.

You work in the warmth of his looming proximity. He’s never had much of a personal bubble. Working behind a bar, you’ve grown used to being crowded. You measure and pour and muddle. You garnish and set the drink to replace the one your boss took.

“Right, ready,” you declare.

“Here, let me get those,” he slides the tray across the counter before you can react.

“No, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. Boss man’s gotta do some work around here,” he scoffs and lifts the tray. “You take a load off, sweetheart, I need those hands well-rested. No one else has that magic touch.”

You tisk and shake your head. He can be ridiculous. You won’t complain, he’s the least uptight boss you’ve had. The place isn’t too bad. Upscale with well-tipping patronage. It’s not your typical bar. Most of your work is done behind a wall as the customers drink in private rooms or in the common room where refined jazz wafts through the dim air. The whole place drips of exclusivity.

You clean up and wipe the counter before you wash your hands. Another order appears on the screen. Customers order on a sleek touchscreen, unbothered by servers amid their hushed conversations. You assume they are the types with private jets and luxurious yachts. Of course, they’re too special to drink like normal people.

You start up the next order. Spiced apple cider. A classic though it’s not often ordered. Two to put up. You mix the drinks in mason jars with thick handles. You finish them each with a cinnamon stick.

“Ready to go?” Nick has you squeaking again.

“God,” you throw your hands up and laugh, “how do you keep doing that?”

“Hey, not my fault. You’re in the zone. You know, you get all squinty,” he makes a face, “it’s like the whole world doesn’t exist. Makes me feel a bit small.”

“Mm, well, I guess you’re right. I should pay more attention to my surroundings,” you lift the mugs, “I got these, Nick.”

“It’s no problem, one of my buddies,” he wraps his hands around the jars, “been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh, okay then,” you let him take the cups.

“Take it easy. You do too much.”

You smile tightly and lean on the counter. He goes and you turn around to tidy again. You can be precise. You like a clean station. You’ve worked with too many people who leave the bartop littered in lime peel and broken toothpicks. You can’t make a good drink if you’re working in filth.

But it isn’t just your work. You try not to let the personal seep in but you can’t help who you are. Things should be just so. Books should be lined up and sorted alphabetically and the dishes should be stacked neatly, and the carpet can’t be crooked.

You exhale and run your hands over your apron. Most people might envy your boss for his high company and exorbitant wealth, you just covet his coolness. He’s never bothered by much.

“Sweetheart,” he enters, this time with fair warning. You look up at his pet name. He always calls you that. “What’s that chocolate one you did last time?” He snaps his fingers, “you know, it was kinda creamy--”

“Brandy Alexander,” you answer, “yeah, uh, we’re out of dark creme de cacao. I put it on the inventory.”

“Inventory,” he nods and his blue eyes flick away guiltily, “yeah, I was supposed to do that.”

You cross your arms, “yeah, you were.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I swear, I thought of it,” he crinkles his nose, “but it must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Mhmm,” you sniff, “well, you have been busy. I didn’t even know you were in town.”

He looks up and his cheek dimples. His gaze falls back on you, “lots of running around. Sorry, sweetheart, if it was up to me, I’d be right here, tasting all your delights.”

You nearly snort but instead just furrow your brow.

“What?” He asks.

“Nothing,” you shrug and turn away, the screen showing another order. “Sometimes... the way you say things...”

He chuckles and leans his elbow on the counter, “I do like to choke on my own foot.”

“You know, I said before, I could make time for inventory. I don’t mind making orders--”

“Don’t bother,” he cuts your offer short, “I know people. I can take care of it. I’ll make a few calls tonight.” He stays as he is, angled against the counter as he watches you. He rests his chin on his knuckles and you glance over as you squeeze a lime dry.

“What?” You ask as you measure out the juice.

“How’d you learn to do all this?” He asks.

“I took a few courses, worked a few dives,” you say, “did a gig on a cruise ship. You know, you figure it out.”

“And you enjoy it?” He says, “I mean, I can tell you do.”

“It keeps my hands moving and my head from racing,” you explain as you mix the drink in a shaker.

“Sounds amazing,” he stands straight, “sooner or later, I need to find something to keep me busy. Something that doesn’t make me crazy.”

You garnish and he swipes up the glass before you can stop him.

“Well, you might just have a calling as a waiter,” you say sarcastically as you wipe your hands on a towel.

“I don’t know about that,” he grins, “I’m not much for taking orders.”

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Word Count: 2,800

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure you follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.

Please read my pinned post before interacting.

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of 'pickup artistry': the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl'; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good' as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama' (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader's neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing' (in this case the word 'little' is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: The original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn't stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn't want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it. 

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable. 

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous). 

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable. 

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life. 

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey. 

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression. 

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.) 

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique. 

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic. 

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do? 

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages. 

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up. 

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway. 

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you. 

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him. 

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you. 

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him. 

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech. 

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice. 

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man. 

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door. 

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside. 

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking. 

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.” 

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?” 

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle. 

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds. 

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.” 

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam. 

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake. 

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.” 

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation. 

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom. 

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin. 

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her. 

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs. 

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid. 

You had to do something. 

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you. 

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop. 

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it. 

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips. 

You imagined her approaching you at a bar. 

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you. 

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now. 

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her. 

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy. 

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off. 

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips. 

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.) 

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close. 

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm. 

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-” 

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief. 

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet. 

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious. 

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you. 

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight. 

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light. 

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch. 

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves. 

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding. 

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest. 

“You.” You whined quietly. 

Emily chuckled gently. 

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction. 

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue. 

“Come to me.” 

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you. 

“Come on. Come to Mama.” 

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog. 

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss. 

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy. 

She was showing you who was in charge. 

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now. 

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control. 

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight. 

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.” 

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone. 

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.” 

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

[tinydefector]

Yandere Pharma Mtmte x cybertronian reader,there may be Breeding kink

Medical Malpractice

I had alot of fun writing this one, turns out I may have a thing for the medical bots ^///^

Pharma x cybertronian Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warning: smut, breeding kink, medical malpractice, valveplug, workplace relationships, mention of a Corpse.

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Pharma Masterlist

_________________

They move around the medical bay, their optics linger on Pharma as they watch him work, the younger Decepticon medic hadn't anticipated what Pharma was like, he was an Autobot after all but he was nothing like an autobot. He scared them to a point with unethical means but if it meant they weren't in his firing line they couldn't careless. He was easy enough to work with, even polite at times when they were both working on patient's. He was a decent boss, that was their main reason for sticking around so long they kept telling themself. 

Pharma pauses in his work, delicately probing mechanisms within another patient's frame, to glance over at the young Decepticon observing him. His visor gleams with cool calculation as his sensors assess the them, noting every flaw and weakness surely embedded within that still-impressionable processor. 

"See something of interest, Decepticon?" he inquires smoothly, every syllable oiled with practised charm. A lesser medic may have snapped at them but he was all too aware of their lingering optics, concerned for battlefield adversaries within their precious medbay was not something he worried about, he knew how to play his assistant well. 

After all, gratitude can work wonders in ensuring willing participation in...certain experiments. And raw fear of him proves such a potent motivator, as well as arousal, as this one's rapid ventilations already begin to show.

His talonlike tools delve within the circuitry once more as he awaits the mech's response, optics glinting cold assessment behind the cordial visor. Few escape unscathed once they catch his notice, his assistant on the other hand was rather illusive and vexing. 

Their optics dart away as they move to the otherside of the medical room, they shift through different items taking notes of stock they would have to let Nickel know they needed, they try to ignore Pharma yet the lingering heat under their plating is beginning to get out of hand.  It makes their plating shutter slightly at the thought of having Pharma bending them over a surface.

They push the thought away before addressing the equipment they would be needing replacements for "Pharma we are going to need more Energon  infusers, welding rods and disk cutters" they call out while taking notes.

"Hmm, we are running through them quicker than I anticipated," replies Pharma smoothly. His helmeted head turns to track the scuttling Decepticon, digits never pausing in their work. "So dutiful of you to keep us well-supplied. I do insist upon only the finest tools for my...experiments."

Those cold optics watch keenly as the young mech shivers under the weight of his intense scrutiny. Fear truly is such a heady elixir for arousal, and one Pharma relishes cultivating with an artist's care.

"Do inform Nickel the list will need amending shortly," he murmurs softly. "Less we have more mishaps, for example..." A swift flick of his wrist, and the patient jerks upon the table, energon jetting from new seams as Pharma smiles behind his visor. He's quick at removing the T-cog. And spark before leaving the body to shut down. His burning gaze settles once more upon his skittish pet project who was twitching from need. "For now. But rest assured, Con,I believe you're in need of a check up" His tone whispers of rapture yet to be unveiled.

Their optics glance at him. "I have a name Doctor" they sneer lightly, they didn't appreciate Pharma's tone. They nearly gasp as one of Pharma's servos wrap around their waist. Whether  he was trying to unsettle them or arousal them, it had left their processor spinning.

"Indeed you do," murmurs Pharma silkily, taloned digits caressing the curve of the smaller Bot's waist. His field washes over them, cold yet stirring, the electromagnetic buzz of a predator toying with doomed prey.

His helm dips close enough that the heat of his vents teases against plating. " I can practically see the Transfluid leaking through your panel darling. Let us simply say you ignite...a passions that science alone could never sate."

With a cruel twist of his grip, he spins the Decepticon to face the operating table once more, pulling them flush against his chassis. His free hand running down their frame to their interface panel, “open it” he states.   

A gasp escapes them as they are pressed against his chassis. Their optics linger on the Corpse on the table that Pharma had been removing parts from. "Sir you will have to try harder" they state,whining loudly as his servos dig into their hips.

Pharma throws back his helm and laughs, the harsh grating sound of grinding metal. His grip only tightens further, denting fine plating as his thumbs press cruel circles into joint lines.

Leaning down to hiss silica-laced words directly against an audial, he purrs "don't tempt me, or i'll rip that panel off myself." They whine even more, bot shuttering lightly 

His free hand caresses up the panel excruciating care. Pharma wrenches their helm back to force wide optics upon the corpse's agonised rictus. "You'll come to understand: you have always, only, ever belonged to me, my dear. You can't even go a full luna cycle without me" He smiles. Lips press against their neck cabling. 

Another cry comes from them as Pharma moves them towards one of the medical berths. "Pharma!" They state optics wide. "Sir if someone walks in!" They try to protest only for him to lean down. Pharma savours each movement against his servos. Their interface panel snaps open, spike pulsing as their valve clenches around nothing.

 their writhing frame an epitome of beauty in unravelling. His engine rumbles in primal triumph to see one so spirited brought to glorious pieces beneath his touch, his digits tease their spike with a few lazy strokes. 

Let them see” he states, not worried. He knew too well that others avoided his medical wing and for good purpose. He drags his digits down their valve pressing in with subtle thrust.  

"Such eager want. your coding sings for me, does it not?" His glossa flickers out, tracing the shell of an auditory sensor. "An apt pupil, to learn so quickly, and taking rather well to the new programming"

Those skilled digits curl within, massaging nodes to wring gasping cries from his trembling assistant. His free hand roams their shivering form with surgical precision, mapping every sensitive wire and line.  

talons messaging cables in their neck before gripping their face. "So needy, and only for me. With how aroused you are I bet I hold your very spark in my hand, and you'd still be a moaning mess for me." His field swells in heady triumph, and he claims their lips in a crushing kiss.

They gasp as his own interface panel snaps open pressing his spike against the plating of their thigh. Their body shutters in anticipation, optics shoot down between their body's as Pharma teases them open more. 

"Primus, Pharma" they call shutter at his words. “Anyone would think you plan on cutting me open” 

Pharma utters a mechanical chuckle at their words, field igniting with surging need at the glorious sight beneath him. Their willing frame laid spread underneath him.

"Tempting, my sweet, rather tempting but no" he purrs, Three of his talons tease their folds, massaging slick fluid as he presses digits deeper before pulling them away. He brings his mouth to their audio, glossa flickering against the shell. "No you belong on my spike, I would have your every sensor calibrated to receive only ecstasy."He shifts, lining himself up. 

Its cruel thrust that has them fluttering around him, desperate sounds spilling from vocalizers. In one slow, relentless glide, he joins with them, deep groans of satisfaction leave him. Optics go wide as their body ceases up at Pharma's thrust. Doors on their back shutter as they arch into the table. They clench tightly around him as he thrust eagerly into them, pleading moans and static whines fall from them. They bite down against neck cables as they cling to him. "Pharma slow down please" they call out.  He claims their lips in a kiss of domination, firmly cementing your place by his side. Praise be to science’s name. 

Pharma rumbles his engine at their mewling cries, though gentles the punishing pace of his thrusts in deference to the request. His field swells to the envelope of their quivering form. A taloned hand strokes their cheek plate with deceptive tenderness. His helm dips to nuzzle the joining of their neck, glossa flickering over new indentations left by his denta. 

"To think, what scientific discoveries we might forge together," he rasps against your audial. "You seem rather receptive to me after the reprogramming and implant" Overload laps at their consciousness like swelling tidewaters, dragging them deeper under his spell. 

Each roll of Pharma's hips has him pressing deeper into them. He lifts one of their legs angling into them at a better angle, They arch into him. The amount of thoughts that run through Pharma's processor, to fill them, watch them bulge, attempt to breed his assistant, test his theory over sparklings. 

Pharma feels the younger mech tremble helplessly beneath his ministrations, sweet cries spilling like sacred hymns from their lips. Their unrestrained pleasure threatens to ignite his coding beyond all reason; never before has one responded so beautifully to the raptures of the flesh.

He captures their lips in a bruising kiss, glossa mapping their mouth with possessive fervour. "My perfect specimen," he rasps against swollen dermas. "Such glorious fulfilment you grant my research… you'd look rather stunning, carrier coding taking you"  Overload laps their awareness in tidal euphoria until the overload in a flurry of moans and cries.

His spike pressed relentlessly within their port, pulsing transfluid flooding their gestational chamber in thick spurts. Pharma moans, Pulling the quivering mech flush against his heaving chassis, Pharma savours the aftershocks, rocking into them as he breeds them. His field washes over their modified form, his coding commending the first stage of modifications for carrying to fruition.  His field sparks triumph as your gestation chamber swells further with transfluid.

"Let's hope the upgrades take hold, sweetness," he purrs against an audio, talons massaging newly-swollen tanks in languid strokes. His free hand caresses the still-filling chamber in utter rapture. "We might just have this figured out soon." His smiles against trembling lips.

"Exquisite" he purrs, talons digging into narrow hips to meet with one last punishing thrust. "To think, the discoveries we shall unveil."

His spike pulses frantically within their clutching valve, engines roaring. Never before has anything reduced the great Pharma to such feral, worshipful frenzy. 

He pulls their limp frame against his heaving chassis as ecstasy's aftershocks continue rippling through their quivering form. 

He nuzzles their faceplate gently, crooning praises as his field washes comfort and adoration over flushed components. "Rest now." Pharma places a reverent kiss to his assistant's forehead, servos mapping new bulges within their abdomen.

He pulls them up off the medical berth as he carries them over to his chair, he sinks down into it as they rest atop of his body, servos trace their back struts as he hums in contentment. It seemed only time would tell if the new modifications would Yield success. 

[potofstewie]

Deja Vu

The low down: History is repeating itself and for once, Kyojuro is tired.

The things to know: Reader uses she/her pronouns, Absolute angst (I kind of got teary eyed while writing this), mentions of blood, character death, this mostly takes place before mugen train , ooc shinjuro but he's a nice guy promise, Venting, sobbing kyojuro, like literally this ray of sunshine is BROKEN, a peaceful and sober Shinjuro, Y/N is literally a bg character lmao sorry, daddy issues

Pairing: Kyojuro x Reader

W/C: A WHOPPING 3.8K WORDS, MY BIGGEST ONE YET!

Words/phrases to know:

Monstuki Haori Hakama: Traditional formal garment that would be worn as simplified attire by people in the Samurai Society (during the Edo Period)

A/N: Hey you guys, I'll come clean. This one is a doozy not necessarily in length but in the emotions I tried my best to display in this one. It's true, reader is nothing but a background character and I kinda apologize for that. I really wanted to write a fic that portrays a new leaf in Kyojuro and Shinjuro's relationship and what better way than with sacrificing Y/N? Anyway, I finally made a pinned post linking my masterlist and other stuff for my mobile users. I plan on posting this and my other stuff on AO3 probably tmr as well. I hope you guys enjoyed and DO TELL ME YOUR FAVORITE PART

It was happening again. 

Kyojuro laid wide awake within his futon, puffy and reddened eyes burning the ceiling with his intense gaze. The calming silence of the night was occasionally interrupted with your pained coughs erupting from the other room. Kyojuro ran a tired hand through his disheveled mane, completely fed up with it all.

The coughing, the wheezing, the piles upon piles of tissues that were stained with spots of blood and phlegm. The never ending servings of soup, the countless doctor visits that always ended on the same confusing and irritating note. 

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Kyojuro didn’t hate a lot of things in the world, but that sentence he hated the most. “It’s only a matter of time.”

A matter of time until what? Until she gets better? Until she becomes the second one to leave them? What the hell did it mean? The situation weighed heavily on the Rengoku males, tension forever present within the household. At the beginning, all three of them would listen intensely to whatever orders and updates the doctors gave. They would each take turns administering medicine and delivering soup, massaging sore muscles that grew tired of being idle under a futon. Now, however, it was only Senjuro who listened. Kyojuro, as well as his father, continued to serve your every need despite giving up on worshiping the vague and aggravating words of the doctors.  

Your lover tried to keep his cheerful façade on display as usual, but as the days went on and the coughing grew louder and longer, his smile would falter and heavy sighs would take the place of his boisterous laughter. The bubbling fear and anger within him replaced his ever so optimistic and happy demeanor. There was no doubt that his family took notice of his change no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you included. Any time he would be with you, you would always ask the same things:

“How have you been, honestly?”

“Have you been eating?”

“Are you taking care of yourself while you’re away?”

“Something is on your mind, my love. What’s upsetting you?” 

You were easily satisfied with the simple “I’m alright, don’t worry about me.”, “yes” or “nothing is wrong my dear, honest.” You’d always give him that smile which he loved dearly before turning your back to him, returning to the warm embrace of slumber. Kyojuro’s beaming smile would always dissipate immediately when your eyes were no longer on him, fatigue tugging at his spirit. Of course something was bothering him; you were crumbling away right in front of him and he was absolutely powerless to do anything. 

On the days he would be free from pillar duties, all he could do was roam the house aimlessly like a ghost who couldn’t pass on properly. Even at night when sleep couldn’t find him, he would wander the halls. His frame would always buckle and slide against the walls, silent tears covered his cheeks every time as he curled in on himself. This all felt like Deja Vu to the flame hashira, every second he experienced was just another second he had already gone through. However this time he would be the grieving partner. He was grateful, though, that instead of turning to alcohol like his father did once upon a time, he stuck to wandering like a stray dog. 

Kyojuro grew to envy his father when your illness took a turn for the worst. He took notice of the lack of sake present in the house and the ever growing moments he and Senjuro would catch their father outside his room. He took note of how attentive his father was to your every beck and call, even to those that didn’t require him or ask of him in the first place. Even without being told he would do his damndest to ensure his would be daughter-in-law is alright. Opening the Shoji to let the sunlight flood into the room, cooking hot meals for the house and giving you the largest servings, taking up extra chores so Senjuro could keep you company. All these things Kyojuro wished he had the enthusiasm for. He loved helping you, truly, but his determination had depleted almost completely. 

Rubbing his eyes, Kyojuro sat up, a heavy sigh leaving his dusted red nose. The corners of his mouth twitched, heavy with sadness as a revelation dawned upon him. His father was probably doing this out of habit, out of fear. He faintly remembered what it was like when his mother was sick, his father doing everything he could when he had the time to be at home. He supposed that maybe doing all of these things and more was a way for his father to cope with the haunting truth that another person he cared about would die due to unchangeable circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, his father hoped that things would get better and that he wouldn’t have to relive the same pain he had once experienced; even if it wasn’t him who would take it the hardest. 

A single tear escaped Kyojuro’s fiery eyes, his hand quickly erasing it as he sniffled softly. No, the one to bear the pain the most would be him. It was his turn now, and no amount of soup and small conversations his father offered to the family’s source of light would change that. Getting up from his futon, Kyojuro wondered if there had been a curse placed upon his family. It couldn’t be a coincidence that this same situation would happen twice. Did a demon from his father’s past place a curse on the bloodline as it died to his blade? Damning every Rengoku to suffer absolute heartbreak?

Entering the dark hallway, Kyojuro silently stalked his way to the entrance, mind lost in sorrow. Staying in bed couldn’t help him and wandering the halls wasn’t something he was up for. Instead, he aimed for the fresh, crisp night air to fill his lungs and clear his mind. Oh, how he wanted so badly to purge the sickness in you and toss it to the farthest reaches of the earth. He wished to take you out to all your favorite restaurants again, to go on a picnic with you again, to bear witness to you playing with Senjuro under the cherry blossom trees again. He missed being able to kiss you during the cold winter nights that only a lover’s embrace could heat up. He could no longer give you the sweet kisses you had once pleaded for, your illness putting a stop to most intimate tokens of affection you were both accustomed to. 

As a heavy sigh left his lips, Kyojuro opened the shoji and blinked in surprise. His father, broad back facing the house and his eyes focused on the sky above, was sitting on the engawa. Legs hung over the edge, a half empty cup sitting next to its owner. Shinjuro turned around slightly, acknowledging his son.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He explained softly, turning his attention back to the dark sky, the bright moon the only thing decorating the endless dark abyss. Kyojuro closed the shoji behind him and took a seat next to his father, burning eyes gazing at the cup in suspicion before looking at his father in silent question. Shinjuro picked the cup up and slightly turned it. “It’s just water.” He said simply, resting the cup on the other side of him before resting his hands in his lap. 

“I..couldn’t sleep either.” Kyojuro said softly, hesitation ladened in his sleep-deprived voice. Although things within the house had gotten better since you entered his life and the lives of his family, Kyojuro still had a slight problem conversing with his father. You managed to change his father for the better, instead of heaps of sake littering the house only one or two bottles were kept in the kitchen before his father made the decision to get rid of it entirely once you fell ill. He started to eat with the family, although he barely spoke, only talking when answering a question or giving Senjuro or you his praises for the meal. He started training Senjuro in simple hand to hand combat, leaving the sword work to Kyojuro. He even had daily, lengthy conversations with you about an array of things; from what Ruka was like to how happy the birds seemed to be that day. 

It wasn’t easy but progress was slightly made between the father and son. His father started returning any greetings he was given, he waited alongside you and Senjuro when Kyojuro finally arrived home from a grueling mission and even confessed to him that he was proud of him being a hashira but still preferred it if he turned away for his own safety. But, all of that still didn’t quite quell the nervousness Kyojuro had when it came to him. 

“I know. That’s why you’re here, Kyojuro.” He remarked quietly, taking a sip of his drink. If he focused hard enough, he could’ve sworn that there was a twinge of tease hidden in his father’s voice.

“R-right.” He replied, voice barely above a whisper. For a few pensive moments, there was a cold silence between them. Kyojuro furrowed his wild eyebrows slightly, oh how awkward this all was! He didn’t know what to say to his father, even if he did he still wasn’t sure if he should voice it. He was in an intense battle with himself and by the looks of it, it was going to end in a draw.

One part of him wanted to vent to his father, to tell him all of his frustrations and woes about the depressing situation all of them were currently in. He wanted to bawl and curl up by his father, have his hot tears soak through the clothing on his father’s shoulder. He wished to be a little boy again, to trip and scrape his knee and have his father pick him up like he used to and comfort him. To hear him say: “It’s alright little one, you don’t need to cry anymore. I’ll patch you up, good as new.” like he used to. To plant a loving kiss on the top of his head and rock him in his arms. To call him a big boy when he was finally at ease and say how proud he was for being brave. All that he wished to have again.

The other part of Kyojuro, however, wanted to keep the peaceful silence between them. To just gaze up at the moon with his father and bottle up his emotions; to burn through it all passionately as he usually would. But even Kyojuro knew that would end in failure. He wanted to be as strong as he could, to bear it all on his tired and weakened shoulders. To give hope to his father -and to himself- that things would be alright and that you would bounce back better than ever. That you would play with Senjuro again, that you would do morning stretches with his father again in the garden, that you would plant millions of loving and passionate kisses all over Kyojuro’s face. 

As the young man sat in silence, mind ravaging with his thoughts, Shinjuro broke the silence with the clearing of his throat. “I..think it would be best for the two of you to get married as soon as possible.” Kyojuro turned his head to his father, his puffy eyes blown wide as his father continued to stare at the sky. “It..would be best for all of us if there was one last good memory to hold onto.” With that, he finally gazed at him, tired eyes drinking in the clear signs that his son was crying earlier.

“Oh, um, yes. You have a point…I’ll bring it up with Y/N tomorrow morning.” Kyojuro muttered, calloused hands slightly gripping his yukata. Kyojuro’s gaze lowered to his lap as he tried to figure out how to pose his question. “Um, father?” He called out. Shinjuro answered with a gruff hum, taking another sip of water.

“Father, Y/N..isn’t going to get better, is she?” Kyojuro could feel his ears heat slightly at his question. He sounded like a small child that couldn’t grasp the concept of someone he cared about dying. He reminded him of himself once upon a time. Shinjuro grunted again, looking at Kyojuro.

“She won’t, Kyojuro.” He answered simply, flaming eyes once more concentrating on the moon. Kyojuro’s bottom lip twitched at the obvious confirmation, a painful lump slowly forming in his throat.

“Father?” He started again, picking at the hangnail that resided on his pointer finger. Shinjuro sighed softly and leaned back on his palms. 

“Yes, Kyojuro?” He answered patiently, completely understanding the heavy task he was assigned once Kyojuro sat next to him. He knew how fragile his son currently was and he knew just how painful it was. Nobody was by his side when Ruka fell ill but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t be the lighthouse for the ship his son sailed on, horrible waves from the daunting storm threatening to capsize him. 

“It’s all useless, isn’t it? The doctor visits and the soup.” He started, worry taking the reins and causing him to talk faster. “A-As well as the medication and the massages and-”

“Kyojuro.” Shinjuro interrupted sternly, shocking the young man and causing him to look at his father with worry plastered on his face. An iron gaze was focused on the young man’s sorrowful features. A sigh flew from the older man’s lips as Kyojuro looked back down at his fingers, eyes covered in a sheen film. “It may all seem useless, hell, it might actually be. But those things..bring her ease. It brings Senjuro ease. It gives them hope and it would be cruel to just stop it and force them to face the grave truth.” 

“Right, I apologize.” Kyojuro said meekly, lolling his head back to keep from sniffling. A tender yet battle-worn hand rested on the top of Kyojuro’s head, giving him a slight pat before leaving his messy hair. 

“It’s alright, Kyo.” Shinjuro reassured softly, sitting up straight again. He dithered, unsure of how to say his next words. If one thing Shinjuro wasn't good at, it was being reassuring. But, his son needed him and he truly didn't want to let him down this time. Never again, he silently vowed to himself as he took a deep breath, lips parting slightly.

“It’s okay to feel this way. I don’t have to tell you how hard this all is and how awful everything feels. But just know that I won’t leave your side for any of it. I’ll be there to hold your hand through it all and I’ll make sure that you don’t end up like I did. I promise you, Kyojuro.” He finished, a small yet reassuring smile resting on his lips. Kyojuro looked at his father in both bewilderment and comfort. For the first time in a while, Kyojuro was finally receiving the love and care that he had longed for from his father for a long time. With a slight nod, Kyojuro once more looked down in his lap, fingers tightly woven. A single tear finally broke through, leaving a small dot on his clothing.

“Father, I..I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know if I can keep being cheerful anymore. I’m so tired, father. I feel like I'm lying to her, lying to myself. And I can't stand it, I just-” And with the last word to leave his trembling lips, a struggling wail escaped Kyojuro’s throat. Rapid streams of tears left his screwed shut eyes as his shoulders convulsed, rough hands frantically trying to wipe away the stains on his crimson cheeks however they just kept coming even stronger than before. Large hands grabbed the side of Kyojuro’s head and shoulder, pushing him into a tight hug. Soft hushes filled the heavy night air as Kyojuro’s wails grew louder and became filled with incoherent babbling. 

“I don’t wan’ to lose her, I hate it. I hate it all! I-I wanna save her but- but I can’t!” Kyojuro spoke through an agape frown, drool beginning to leave his mouth while his hands gripped the back of his father’s yukata tightly as Shinjuro’s hand rubbed his back. “P-please, Papa, help me, Please!” He pleaded, voice muffled as he buried his head further into his father’s embrace. Shinjuro’s lower lip twitched slightly before burying it on the top of his son’s head, placing a soft kiss in the blond tresses. 

“I know, Kyo, I know. I’ll help you out, don’t worry. It’s okay, my son...I promise.” Shinjuro whispered as the gut wrenching sobs left his son’s lips. Shinjuro hated it all too. He hated seeing the memories of Ruka’s final moments every time he visited you. He hated seeing Kyojuro slowly turn into a shell of his former self, he hated looking into the mirror that was his son. He hated seeing younger Kyojuro within Senjuro, always trying his hardest to raise everyone’s hopes and quietly asking him if Y/N will for sure get better; always being met with vague answers. It was all Deja Vu to the older man, as if he was watching the past play out right in front of him but ten times worse. They hadn’t even gotten married yet, let alone have one or two children. Shinjuro could feel nothing but the sorrow and anguish within his battered heart beating loudly in his ears as Kyojuro finally succumbed to his emotions. 

Shinjuro started to slightly rock his son side to side as burning tears soaked through his clothes. He didn’t mind not one bit. He would have all of his clothes drenched in the salty tears of his children if that is what they needed. He would rock them and comfort them as many times as they requested, no matter how big the issue was or how old the children were. It was his responsibility as their father to do so, as well as something he owed to them for all the years of negligence. 

Kyojuro’s wails died down to occasional sniffles and heavy breathing. His grip on his father slightly loosened as he partially uncovered his bloodshot eyes, gaze resting on nothing in particular. “What..am I going to do? I love her so much, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I feel like I can’t breathe, my lungs are burning. I-I’m so tired, Papa.” Kyojuro mumbled, no longer caring about how childish he seemed calling his father “Papa”. That’s what he was after all, Papa. Papa the Brave that chases the demons away every night before bed and when he’s away from home. Papa the Strong that can carry both his children and his wife on his body, carrying them throughout the house as tiny, sweet giggles filled the air. Proud Papa that teaches his sons how to hold a sword and praises them when they beat the air with wooden swords. Loving Papa that coats Mama in sweet kisses when he comes back home. Helpful Papa that saves little boys with snakes from sorrowful places and wipes his children’s faces every meal time. His Papa. 

Shinjuro sighed softly, rugged hand traveling in his son’s hair. “I’m sorry, Kyojuro. There isn’t much you can do but be there for her. Love her as much as possible no matter what. Try to make her happy every day, even if you feel like giving up. And when you do feel like giving up, find me. And I’ll carry you.” 

Kyojuro sniffled as his body felt the brunt force of fatigue. His wild eyebrows furrowed as he began to succumb to the sweet luls of slumber. “Okay, Papa..” Softly leaving his lips as he finally slept, Shinjuro kept his steady rhythm of rocking until the morning sun crested the horizon, birds singing their wake-up songs to the once still Earth.

A warm, gentle breeze traveled throughout the lively forest as boisterous laughter filled the air. Shinjuro chuckled softly as he watched his two sons walk briskly ahead of them, jokes and funny stories exchanging between the two. Kyojuro laughed loudly again as Senjuro entertained him with a funny face in the middle of his story, swinging the picnic basket in his hand.

“Kyojuro!” Shinjuro called out, his sons giving him their attention. “Try not to laugh too hard, remember? You’re still healing.” He reminded the young man, gesturing to the bandages that were wrapped around his torso, hidden underneath his Monstuki Haori Hakama. Kyojuro gently rubbed the eyepatch that rested on his face, a habit he started to pick up when in thought, a beaming smile shining at his father.

“Don’t worry, I feel good enough to laugh. It doesn’t hurt, promise!” He assured before joining his little brother that was already ahead of the both of them and underneath the tree. Heaps of food sprawled out on the red blanket once Shinjuro finally caught up to his children, a bento and chopsticks already out for him. He sat down carefully next to Senjuro, content eyes soaking in the picturesque view that laid before him. Many trees danced with the gentle summer wind, birds swooping and diving into the canopy for their lunch. A nearby stream sang its song elegantly as the two sons conversed with each other. Shinjuro took a deep breath in, the sweet scent of the manju and flowers filling his nose. 

“She would’ve liked this place, right Aniue?” Senjuro said softly, snapping his father from his silent appreciation of nature. Kyojuro lowered his chopsticks, a small smile plastered on his face. He rubbed his stomach gingerly, before turning his attention to his little brother. 

“She would have. Both of them would, I reckon. However, they’d probably yell at us for being late.” He chuckled, producing a large smile from Senjuro, a smaller one from his father. “Not to mention, we didn’t make Y/N favorite food to bring with us.” He finished, laughing loudly as Shinjuro released a soft snort. 

“She’d be mad at you, not me and Sen. I told you we should’ve made some but you insisted on rushing.” He retorted, Senjuro giggling softly at his father’s remark. Kyojuro chuckled sheepishly as he rubbed his neck. His father was right, of course. But you would forgive him, Kyojuro knew you would. 

“Then let’s make some when we get home and give it to her. Now hurry up and eat before I end up taking everything.” Senjuro warned before quickly snatching up a mitarashi dango, eliciting a shocked and hurried response from his brother as well as a scoff from his father, joining in the competition. 

Things hadn’t been fair to the Rengoku family and although things would forever change for them, one thing was for sure; no sorrowful bouts of Deja Vu would visit them. And if they did, Papa the Brave would be there.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2022

[writing-and-wondering]

Find your masterlist on your blog and pin it so it’s the first post on your page

Click “edit” and change the format from rich text to HTML via the three dots in the top right corner

Select all of the HTML text and copy and paste said text into Google Docs (it will look very weird and daunting, don’t worry)

Go to “tools” and “search and replace” in the top left menu and put your old username in the search box

Put the new one in the replace box

Select the “replace all” option

To double check and make sure it worked, hit CTRL+F and type the new username into the box

Select all the text in the document by using CTRL+A, then copy and paste it into the Tumblr post, rinse and repeat it as many times as you need to

i had this saved from a reblog ages ago. not sure who it belonged to though.

– 💌

you are my HERO !! oh my gosh thank you thank you thank youuuu

[sleepyowlwrites]

If you have the patience, go through and create a tag cataloging system, and tag posts appropriately. I have also created a sideblog (for myself) to archive and extra catalog info I've shared or character stuff I want to look at later. I tag my asks with specific tags as well to help me find them.

This is a tag replacer, which has been invaluable to me as I've refined my tagging system.

The other thing I do is keep a masterpost of all wips/ideas and I add to the page whenever I have something new. I also have a post just listing my ocs. Mine is organized alphabetically, but you could do yours by wip or whatever. I keep the links for each in my pinned post so they're handy when I need them.

You can keep adding links to your pinned post to keep everything in one easy, findable spot.

I've relegated resource posts and reblogs of others' writing to their own sideblogs as well to help keep this one tidier.

And there there it's about remembering your tagging system and keeping up with it! Tumblr is broken, so when in doubt, like your own post so you can find and add it to a masterlist or something later.

I really want to organize my blog + wips’ info better. Any tips & tricks from other, more tech savvy writeblrs?

I swear I barely know how to use this site or know what it’s capable of.

[wordsintimeandspace]

Fanwork Links

If you want to follow my book/ficbinding adventures, I use the ‘Sue does bookbinding’ tag on my blog!

You can find my writing (mainly Doctor Who, Good Omens and The Magnus Archives) on:

AO3

tumblr

whofic (only older Doctor Who fics)

I previously used a masterpost as an overview of all my fics, but it’s getting too long and since tumblr changed their URLs, all tumblr links are broken. I don’t plan to update this anymore, but if you’re still interested, you can find it here.

[barnesafterglow]

eyes filled with stars

summary: nick needs to remind you that you're his

pairing: nick fowler x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: jealous nick, unprotected sex (duh), dirty talk, porn with feelings (are we surprised), low key sweet nick, steve rogers cameo

a/n: here's another kinktober prompt!! i'm fairly certain this is the first time i've written for nick so please be kind. also thank you @itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare for picking this out for me to write bc i was having a time and a half trying to decide. please remember to reblog and comment so i know you enjoyed it!!

you can join my kinktober taglist or follow @theafterglowlibrary to stay updated when i post 🤍

kinktober masterlist ─ main masterlist

You knew from the moment he touched your arm that Nick would be furious. Nevermind the fact that he suggested you flirt with Senator Rogers to get your foot in the door.

It was supposed to be simple: you talked him up, let him know you would be open to “special favors” if he let you into his intern program, and over the next few weeks you could get the files you needed before he never saw you again.

But that was hard considering Nick was shooting daggers at Rogers, and he had definitely noticed. Instead of being nervous, he kept inching closer until he was gently grazing the bare skin of your back, exposed from the dress you were wearing.

As soon as Nick started pushing his way through the crowd, you knew your chances were blown. You’d later wonder what the last straw was - the way you placed your hand on his chest to laugh at his joke or the way he leaned down to ask if you wanted to go up to his hotel room.

It was all part of Nick’s plan.

You felt his presence before his physical touch - gripping your bicep and pulling you just out of Rogers’ orbit.

“Sorry, I’m going to have to steal her for a moment,” he said, and you could see the tick in his jaw as he clenched it.

“Goodnight, Mr. -” Your words were cut off as Nick gripped your arm tighter and led you to the elevator. You knew you would have bruises in the morning.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, he was crowding you, backing you up until you hit the mirrored wall behind you. The coolness of it dissipated to heat still lingering from the Senator’s touch, and it was like Nick knew.

“Bet you had fun with it, having his attention. Having his hands all over you.” His hands gripped your waist and he was so close you could feel his warm breath fan across your face. “Didn’t you?”

“C’mon, Nick,” you hissed. “I was just doing what you asked me to.”

“Then I was a fucking idiot.” That’s how you knew he was truly upset. He never admitted he was wrong unless he was really wrong. “Couldn’t stand to see his hands on you like that. Couldn’t stand to see his hands on what’s mine.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. No matter how many times you heard it, it never ceased to amaze you that you were his and he was yours.

It took you two long enough, dancing around feelings and playing the most meticulous games, until a night similar to this one, when Nick pinned you down in your hotel bed that night and fucked bruises into you to show you that you were his and his alone. When the bruises faded, he replaced the memory with a ring. A promise. One you were missing right then.

His lips attacked your neck as the elevator shot up, nipping and leaving marks you knew would last long enough to satisfy him. When the doors opened, he gripped your thighs and picked you up, carrying you down the hall to your hotel suite. You took a moment to thank the gods for new age technology because Nick had the door open in seconds, marching you straight to the king size bed and laying you down.

You wondered what the night would bring - hard and rough, making sure you never forgot who you belonged to. Or sweet and passionate, marking in his favorite ways.

By the time he sat you up to peel your dress from your body, he had already stripped down to nothing but grey boxer briefs, and the small stain of precome had your mouth watering. Once your dress pooled on the floor, you made a move to drop to your knees, but Nick gripped your arms, stopping you.

“I’m not waiting to make that pretty pussy mine,” he whispered low and hot in your ear. “Now get on the damn bed.”

Instinctively, you obeyed him, laying back in the fluff of pillows surrounding you, pushing them away until you were propped enough to have a clear view of your lover. He settled on his knees between your thighs, cock standing free and proud against his stomach.

He spread your legs wide, wrapping them around his waist as he bent down to capture lips in a heated kiss. You felt the tip of him slide between your slick folds, and he reached between your bodies to take hold of himself, teasing at your entrance.

“Nick, please,” you pleaded.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, baby, I belong to -” Without warning, he buried himself in you to the hilt, giving you no time to adjust as he fucked into you hard and deep. His thrusts were wild and savage - they were done with the intent of making you feel as good as possible. He always took care of you.

“Gonna make you mine forever,” he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Already gave me the -,” you moaned as he hit you sweet spot, “gave me the ring.”

“I need more than that, love. Need more of you. Want more than just us.”

“What are you saying, Nick?”

“I’m saying I wanna fuck a baby into this pussy of mine. Have something that’s us. Made by us. That okay with you?”

You couldn’t contain the moans and filth coming from your mouth. Agreeances and “I love you”s and everything in between, clenching tightly around him as he whispered filthy promises of keeping you full, how pretty you would look pregnant, how he wanted a big family with you.

“You like the thought of that, don’t you honey?” he teased. “Like the thought of me keeping you stuffed full until it takes? Wanna be round with my baby, another part of me that’s always with you?”

Nodding frantically, you dug your fingers into his back, pulling him as close to you as possible, leaving angry red marks in the process.

With sweaty bodies pressed together, he came in you, fucking it into you as your own orgasm washed over you.

When your hips stopped grinding and your hands stopped shaking, he slipped out of you, laying beside you on his side. His hand slid back between your thighs, pushing the come that had slipped out of you back in, then stuck his fingers in your mouth and you cleaned the rest off of them.

“You were serious, huh?” you joked once he had pulled his fingers away.

“Look at me,” he said, and gently gripped your chin to turn your head toward him. “Of course I was serious, I want to be with you forever. I want a family with you. I would give this up if you asked me to.”

Your heart melted. You knew Nick loved you, he always made sure to show you, in his own way. But it was unlike him, talking about a future like that. You always figured you would go on as you had, get married one day and keep to the same path. But this was a new side of him he had never shown you until then.

“I can’t wait to have a little Nicky running around here.” A bright smile split across his face and his blue eyes sparkled in the low light of the room.

“Then we better keep trying.”

Without warning, his hands were on your hips, flipping you over on your stomach and lifting your ass up before he settled behind you.

He leaned down to whisper more filth in your ear. “I’m gonna keep you stuffed full all the time, baby. Have to make sure you’re getting every drop.”

His thrust into you had you seeing stars. And all night he showed you a galaxy.

kinktober taglist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@treatbuckywkisses @sgt-barnesveins @bucky-barmes @opheliastark @sweetascanbee @writing-for-marvel @christywantspizza @hi-sarahh @highlyintelligentblonde @jjbunny14 @buckysfavoritereader (@navybrat817 i thought you might like this one) 

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

Nemesis: Retribution (2)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SMUT FOR THIS CHAPTER. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOURS. (18+ ONLY), polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, mentions of illnesses, momentary fluff, bit of angst care of Bucky, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, rejection, bullying, heartbreak, character death

A/N: I couldn’t resist not posting this early. Here you go. Next ones will probably take a while coz I have to be an actual adult for a bit. 

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:2 Dark Chocolate

A few days of rest was required to recover from a super soldier's punch. The doctors had said that you were lucky Steve hadn't punched you with full strength or else you would probably have a whole cracked rib cage. You were anxious to jump back in to training, not used to being idle for very long.

You were given some painkillers at the clinic and ordered to stay there for the rest of the afternoon for monitoring. When you woke up, it was early evening and a blonde super soldier was napping on a steel chair next to your bed. He jumped when you moved to sit up, his heightened senses alarmed and disoriented for a second before he quickly switched to repeatedly apologizing to you. You laughed out loud. It was just a little ridiculous to you to see such a commanding presence in the field so charmingly boyish and adorably embarrassed.

Steve was a comforting presence but to be honest you were hoping to see Bucky. You didn't get a chance to thank him since he left immediately after the doctors had ushered you into the examination room. Once you were cleared to return to training, you caught sight of his long brunette hair and the bright smile on your face couldn't be stopped. It was the glare he pinned you with that made you halt your approach.

He was back to his disapproval of your very existence.

You had to admit that it stung. You thought that you were getting somewhere with him after he helped you. At least somewhere outside of the realm of outward disdain. And maybe you were hoping just a little bit that it could lead down the road to him feeling the same about you.

The timing was perfect when you were assigned to your first official mission with the Avengers. It was a chance to prove your worth to the team and to Bucky in particular. A chance to maybe make him see you as more than just a troublesome recruit.

You came back from the mission with your head held high and absolutely glowing with confidence at the kudos from Sam and Natasha. The great Natasha Romanoff had complimented your sniping skills, picking off enemies in her area even before she could aim her own gun at them.

The first thing you wanted to do after getting back to the Compound was to tell Bucky. You wanted to brag a little bit and maybe even thank him for the mentoring. If he hadn’t been so hard on you then you wouldn’t have pushed yourself to be at this level. You were skipping down the halls of the Compound in search for him, clutching the bullet casing from your first official Avenger kill.

FRIDAY had informed you that he was in the training area and you were bouncing on your feet with excitement. As you entered though the place was empty, the rest of the agents having retired to the mess halls. You ventured further in, trusting FRIDAY’s intel until you heard some noises coming from the adjacent armory. You smiled, he must be cleaning his guns again.

As you got closer, the noise began to get louder until you could make out what was undeniably pleasured moaning, one low and gravelly while the other more high pitched. You should have turned away, if only for the privacy of the couple who was wrapped up in their passion, but your curiosity pushed you to come closer and peak through the small crack in the door.

The brief image that you saw made you instantly draw back, a shaking hand pressed to your mouth to silence the shocked gasp. You backed away slowly, your mind struggling to process what you had just seen, then your flight response kicked in and you ran like hell out of there. The scene was burning a hole in your brain and caused your skin to grow cold. Sergeant Barnes rutting hard against a woman wrapped around his waist, his glinting eyes locked with yours, and a cocky sneer on his face.

You didn’t go to dinner that night or to the team celebration for a successful first mission. You chose instead to lay in your bunk with tears burning in your eyes and trying to erase the memory of your discovery. Of course he was already dating someone. A man of his caliber was sure to have a line-up of gorgeous eager women at his disposal. He probably had no interest in boring recruits like yourself. The woman he was throwing into bliss must be some supermodel or high ranking spy. How did you even end up deluding yourself that you could possibly catch his eye?

The rest of your roommates filtered in after a few hours, chatting away noisily about the party. Anna had come to sit on the edge of your bed and ran a comforting hand along your arm, concern clearly etched on her face.

“I’m fine. Just tired. The mission really wore me out,” you muttered with a small smile. You weren't ready to talk about it yet.

“Personally I think I had better success today than all of you,” Kim’s shrill voice cut through the good natured conversations in the room.

She wasn’t part of the group taken on the mission, claiming beforehand that she was ill. A chorus of curious why’s rang out through the group and she preened at once again being the center of attention.

“Well I just had the fuck of a lifetime from none other than Sergeant James Barnes.”

The room of women burst into chaos; squeals of disbelief, rapid fire questions on how big he was and how good of a lay was he, were they dating now or was this a fuck buddy situation. Of course Kim was more than happy to entertain each question.

You tuned all of it out, the noise turning into an annoying ringing in your ear. You turned around to face the wall as the silent tears that refused to be contained any longer fell to wet your pillow. You barely registered Anna squeezing your shoulder or the words that Kim threw your way.

“Sorry, Y/N. I guess I was just more Bucky’s type.”

You curled yourself into a tighter ball as the pain in your chest radiated across your whole body. You had assumed wrong about Bucky. It seemed that he wasn’t opposed to dating new recruits.

He was just opposed to you.

The taunting from Kim continued on and you just couldn't take it any longer. You brushed the tears away, grabbed your sweater, and marched yourself to the door. You needed to get some air. You needed to get away. Anywhere but there. You wrenched open the door and almost came crashing straight toward a solid chest. Your eyes travelled up to lock with the kind blue gaze of Captain America. You wondered why Steve was standing at the doors of your bunkers holding a pack of beer in his hand.

"Good evening, ladies," he said to the room of now suddenly speechless females. "I'm just going to borrow Y/N for a bit."

The crowd remained in shocked silence while you stared at him in confusion as he smiled sweetly down at you. He had gone looking for you when he didn't see you at the celebration after Natasha and Sam had sang your praises to him at your performance. He wanted to congratulate you and bring you a drink for a job well done.

"Come on. I know a good spot," he said, placing a hand on your back and guiding you out.

Steve brought you to the top of an observatory in the Compound. It was quiet, peaceful, and offered a great view. He cracked open a bottle for you and the conversation just flowed naturally. He kept making you laugh until your sides hurt with stories about his time as a performer in the military and all the unfortunate videos that came with it. You were crying with pure joy when he relented and re-enacted his buy military bonds act, your earlier darkened mood forgotten for the moment.

Steve felt like he did something right when your glassy eyes and defeated expression was replaced with clear amusement. Even if it was at his expense. He wouldn't ask what the reason was, but he felt happy he made you feel better.

"Thank you, Steve," you muttered before you parted ways. Somehow both of you understood that it was more than just for the drink.

You promised yourself then that you would give yourself tonight to weep over your unfortunate romantic feelings. Only for tonight. Come morning you would focus all your energy on what you actually came here to do; become an Avenger. You slept fitfully that night, the shell casing from your first mission still gripped in your hand.

You made a conscious effort after that day to limit your interactions with Bucky and Kim to polite clipped conversations. At first Bucky had been surprised at your change in attitude, your blank expression and sparse words causing a momentary guilt to flash in his eyes. You had chosen instead to spend more time with Steve and the twins, your mood obviously brighter around them.

You were sitting now in a large conference room for a briefing on the next mission with a handful of other recruits when Sam Wilson sent you out to fetch the rest of the Avengers who were running late and not responding.

"Can you get them for me, sweetheart?" he chuckled, knowing that you blushed uncontrollably each time he used a nickname on you.

FRIDAY had directed you to the private common room exclusive for their use. You were about to knock on the door when you heard your name in the middle of what sounded like a heated argument. Against your better judgement, you leaned in closer.

"I don't think Y/N's cut out to be part of this team."

Your heart dropped. The conviction in Bucky's voice was clear. It was one thing for your infatuation with him to be forcefully thrown back at your face, but for him to explicitly state to a set of people that you held at such high esteem that you were not good enough was a whole other vicious heartbreak.

Lily was wrong. This time you should have known when to quit.

You forced yourself to crack the door wider and step inside, clearing your throat to announce your presence. You didn't see the startled look on their faces or the guilty one that followed when they realized that you had heard. One look at your sad glistening eyes that refused to look up confirmed it. Natasha and Steve both threw Bucky a deadly glare.

"Sam wants you all at a briefing. I was sent to come get you."

Your voice was so small and unsteady, none of the easy happiness and optimistic determination that it usually carried. Bucky felt the shame burn through him, the guilt drowning him in an instant. You weren't supposed to hear that. He took a step towards you, instinct driving him to do anything to wipe that defeated look off your face, but a threatening look from the twins pinned him in place.

"We'll walk back with you, little star," Pietro said softly, appearing beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Wanda came on the other side, looping your arm with hers.

For the rest of the briefing, you strained with the effort of focusing on Sam while blatantly ignoring Bucky. You knew he was staring a hole at the back of your head, but you couldn't allow yourself to give him any satisfaction by looking back. You were soon assigned your tasks, you being placed on sniper duty again having performed well the last time.

It was supposed to be a run of the mill mission for intel and taking out a criminal base, but with the expectation of more hostiles so a slightly bigger team was necessary. You practically flew out of the room when you were dismissed, not giving anyone a chance to talk to you. A decision was solid in your mind now for when you got back.

This would be your last mission.

The ride on the jet to the location was spent with you cleaning your gear and checking your weapons. You were sliding a few knives in place when Bucky came in front of you holding out another set of knives for you to take.

"You know if you tilt the hilt to the left you can fit more in one holster," he said.

It was odd hearing him with almost warmth in his tone toward you. If it had happened yesterday, you probably would be celebrating this fact. You nodded at him, but didn't say a word.

"Remember to keep your head low and stay on your post. Okay, doll?"

You nodded wordlessly again. Because you made a point not to look at his face, you missed the way he was struggling to say more to you and the disheartened look when you obviously weren't going to answer him. You ignored him for the rest of the ride, choosing to focus on reviewing the intel.

As far as bad intel could go, this had to be the worst. You were perched up on a densely covered hill a good distance away from the base that the rest of the team were storming. You were picking off as many hostiles coming out of the base as quick as your hands would allow. Your fingers were starting to ache from the constant reloading, your eyes stung from the gunpowder, and your lip was already bleeding from biting down on it.

The noise in the comms was pure mayhem. Each team member trying to ask for help, for backup, for a plan. You had all come expecting a fight but not an army prepared to defend. You were certainly not expecting HYDRA.

"They have Bucky."

Three words spoken that sent a cold dread to wash over all of you. HYDRA couldn't be allowed to take Bucky. You abandoned your post without a second thought and sprinted down toward the base, pistols at the ready for anyone coming your way.

"Last location," you asked urgently as you slipped into the building shooting down two agents immediately.

"West wing. Near the last corridor," Steve grunted, clearly having a hard time on his end. "Y/N, do not engage!"

"I'm the closest one, Cap."

"I'm close too. Just a little busy," Natasha huffed. "I'll follow, Y/N. Steve, we need to get the hell out of here."

Steve had reluctantly agreed, seeing that there was no other choice. He quickly barked orders and commanded you to keep safe. You nodded although he couldn't see it as you wove through the corridors at full speed in search of your teammate. The moment you barged into that last room, your eyes found an unconscious Bucky immediately.

Seeing him in that chair horrified you; shirt ripped, bleeding in several areas, skin pale and cold with sweat, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and eyes that were unresponsive. You were so distracted by the jarring image that you failed to notice the operatives across the room until the bullets were burning through your soft flesh.

You screamed from the pain, but raised your gun and fired back until you heard their bodies thud heavily on the floor. You clutched at your side, the amount of wet blood pouring out was alarming. You pushed your own welfare aside and hurriedly undid Bucky's restraints. It was a struggle to sit up a semi-conscious super soldier and when you took his weight on your shoulders, you collapsed to the floor at the intense pain in your arm. You hadn't realized that you had multiple shots there too.

You gritted your teeth and groaned at the effort of lifting you both up, your blood soaking through your gear as well as Bucky's. You huffed painfully with each step but you just had to get him out of there. You could have kissed Natasha square in the mouth when you saw her come barreling towards you.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N!" she winced at your state before taking Bucky's other side. Apparently you looked as bad as you felt. "We gotta move fast. I hear more of them coming up this way. This path is clear."

Having Natasha's help in carrying Bucky alleviated some of the burden from you and made you all move faster, but the blood loss was already starting to make your vision blurry and the adrenaline was wearing off. Through the haze, you could also hear the rapidly approaching footsteps. Soon you would be basically useless and you knew there was no way Natasha could carry you both out while fighting off a hoard of enemies.

"Natasha," you said quietly, your steps faltering.

"No. Keep going goddamn it!" Natasha cried.

She knew what you were thinking. She had assessed the situation too and come to the same miserable conclusion. You smiled sadly at her angry eyes and shaking head as you let go of your hold on Bucky. Her eyes widened further as you limped toward the doors behind you and locked them tight before raising your guns to aim right at anyone who would come through them.

She didn't miss how your hands were shaking and your shot arm could barely hold up, the way you scowled deeper in pain with each movement, or how your uniform was soaked in your own blood and slowly forming a pool at your feet. Ghastly as you looked, you turned your head and tossed her another gentle smile. You were basically going to use yourself as a human shield for them and yet you were comforting her. You were reassuring her.

"Check on my sister for me, yeah?"

Natasha wanted to insist on another plan. Anything other than leave you behind to hold off the nearing enemy units. Shouting and gunfire from the other side of the door forced her to make a decision. She cursed sharply under her breath and dragged Bucky away with her, the regret heavy on her heart for having to leave you behind.

You stepped further back and supported your weak body against the wall after Natasha had thankfully left. The enemy was trying their hardest to barge through the door, ramming into it and shooting their guns at the locks. It wouldn't be long now before they manage to breach it.

You took a moment to spare a thought for your sister. A part of you was saddened to think of her grief after she finds out that you had done the most heroic thing anyone could ever do.

Sacrifice.

Another part of you was relieved knowing that she had Jill and she wouldn't be alone in that grief. When you decided this morning that this would be your last mission, you didn't necessarily expect it to be in this way.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Natasha managed to get Bucky back to the jet where the rest of the team were all converging, still fighting off operatives chasing after them. There just didn't seem to be any end to them.

"I'm going back for Y/N!" she yelled to the team as she dropped Bucky on the floor of the jet. There was no time to be gentle, she had to hurry back to help you out.

"What do you mean? Where the hell is Y/N, Nat?" Steve shouted as he grabbed her arm.

"She stayed behind to hold off the ones chasing us so we could get out. I have to go back!"

"I will go. I can get her out," Pietro volunteered at once but he doubled over immediately from the extensive wounds on his torso.

Natasha was already sprinting back into the compound, not willing to waste another minute. She made it only a few feet before the entire facility exploded into a fiery inferno that quickly ravaged it and threw her farther back.

The entire team watched in horror as the explosions continued on several parts of the structure. The area was quickly getting engulfed by the flames and smoke. Steve had to force everyone onto the jet and bodily carry a shell shocked Natasha.

No one could have possibly survived that.

------------------------------

Natasha steadied her breath as she quietly landed on a perch high above in the rafters of a seedy warehouse. Wanda joined her seconds later, weaving her magic to better cloak them. The other twin was running a lap around the perimeter and would join them later.

She was assigned weird missions all the time. Missions that had very little to doubtful intel was common. This mission though was by far the strangest she's ever gotten. There was a very small list of vague things that were told to them; the time and location, not to intervene, to remain unseen until the target was ready, bring the target to the Compound.

She was slightly annoyed, but she complied anyway. She was curious too as the mission was given in secret to only the three of them. A million questions was speeding through her mind as she observed the activity below. It looked like a regular run of the mill drug den filled with busy workers and roving guards.

"How many, Wanda?" Natasha whispered.

"I sense more than 25 of them. All armed, but with much fear."

A gust of wind signaled the return of the other twin. He had a frown on his face and a concerned look in his eyes. "There is another one, but this one does not seem to be with them."

Natasha was starting to sincerely doubt this mission when a fast movement from the shadows caught her eye. By the way the twins perked up too, they surely had seen it. They followed the figure as it slipped through the darkness, almost losing track if they hadn't noticed that the guards were quickly dwindling in number. Natasha was growing worried, this was surely a highly skilled group of assassins. Pietro must have been mistaken. They were clean and efficient too.

All of a sudden a gunfight broke out below them. A figure completely clad in black, strolled casually out from the shadows with a pistol in each hand firing precisely at their targets. They confidently charged closer, unfazed as they greeted the gunfire. They continued to tear viciously through the crowd with a deadly mix of combat, bullets, and blades. 

The workers had drawn their weapons by now as well, but they were quickly killed off with barbaric aggression. It did not take long for the floor below to become a sea of blood and lifeless bodies. One person remained barely alive, hanging on to his middle to keep his internal organs from spilling out from the wide gash. The attacker came to him, nonchalantly stepping over decimated bodies. They couldn't hear what was exchanged from this distance, only the choked scream that followed as he was stabbed straight through the throat. His blood spurting out like a broken faucet.

Natasha had been in this profession for a while, but she has never seen this level of unrestrained violence.

One person.

One single person had cleared out a base of approximately 30 people. Natasha was growing more and more worried. Clearly this person was at the very least an enhanced and even with the twins with her, they were not prepared to face someone powered.

What kind of bloodthirsty lunatic does this?

"You can come down now."

All three of them froze in place. Looking down, the attacker was staring right at them with cloaked eyes. Reluctantly and very slowly, Wanda used her powers to float them down carefully keeping a good distance from this murderer.

From this close they could now see that they were in full military tactical gear in what was originally all matte black, but now had an explosion of dripping red. Combat boots, fitted cargo pants, a long sleeved shirt underneath a tight bulletproof vest, gloves, a loose hood over their head, and a cloth mask around the lower half of their face.

"Should have known something was up when my team mentioned seeing a really fast man."

The shivers that travelled through every expanse of skin on Natasha, was a reaction to that voice. It sounded strangely familiar yet unknown, but something in her mind was denying her from piecing it together. The moment the hood was dropped to reveal their eyes was when she spiraled into a complete icy shock. They were eyes that had haunted her for the past ten years. Haunted all of them. The only difference was that the eyes in her memories were smiling warmly.

The bloodied face mask was lowered to reveal a face they mourned, unmistakable and yet completely different. White raised scars branched out like weaving vines from the right side of the neck to just above the jaw and the ears. They were obviously old and healed but still raised and prominent, adding an even more dangerous edge to the menacing look on their face.

Your face.

"Hello, Natasha. Pietro. Wanda."

10 years after they had watched you tragically perish in a burning HYDRA facility, you stood before three of a group of people you had unknowingly tormented all these years.

The earpiece you wore crackled to life. "Blackbird to Hedwig. I have a visual. Should I shoot them?"

You smirked. There was no need for that. At least not right now.

"Hey, Blackbird. Tell Raven I'll be late for dinner. I have a reunion to get to."

------------------------------

A/N: Tell me which pairing or combination in this harem you’re most looking forward to. Smut or otherwise. I’m still rearranging scenes and working out smut. There is a long list of kinks. I need help.

Series Tag List (Open):

@anythingwriter @kamalymaly @lazyloki @marvelfansworld @blackbirddaredevil23 @purechaosss @iloveangstposts @onesmokinbabe @jojodojo02 @spookyparadisesheep @strawb3rrydr3ss @studentdoctorstark

Permanent Tag List (Open):

@alwaysclassyeagle @closetbtstrash @fanofalltheficsx​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @alyispunk​ @fckdeusername​ @milkyway-writes​ @dumb-ass-writer​

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 5 - Cross Your Heart [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Lying is supposed to be easy for spies.

Series Masterlist

You were beginning to think undercover operations were some sort of punishments given to agents, because lying was one thing, but creating a whole life around that lie was another.

Not only were your knives replaced by a bunch of paintings on the wall, you now had some photos in frames; old photos of people you didn’t know, people who were supposed to be your “cover” family.

You’d still prefer to have your knives on the walls though.

“You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be on my side!” you pressed the phone between your shoulder and your ear, and heard Chloe’s laugh.

“I am on your side, I just can’t do anything about your uniform.”

You plopped down on the couch, setting your heels down on the floor.

“Bucky might be from 1940s, but he knows that it’s the 21st century now,” you said, putting the heels on, “No reason to make me dress like a….weird pin up waitress.”

“It’s a part of your mission,” she reminded you, “What, you can kill a target with a wine glass but a pin up costume is where you draw the line?”

You clicked your tongue, “Anyone can kill someone with a wine glass. It’s not that hard.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Babe it’s not rocket science, you just break the bowl part, then use the stem to stab them in the—“ you got distracted when you opened the kitchen cabinet, “I’m sorry, why do I have so many kitchen supplies?”

She held her breath in excitement, “Do you like them?”

“I don’t know what to do with most of them.”

“Cover Y/N likes cooking!”

“And the real Y/N can’t stand her,” you deadpanned, making her stifle a laugh.

“So he hasn’t texted you yet?”

“Barnes?” you asked, “Not yet. Why?”

“Well, I took the liberty of taking a look at his messages the other day.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me,” you said, “He’s seeing someone else?”

“No no, not at all,” she said, “He’s totally single, and probably ready to mingle. With you, that is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He and Wilson were talking about you the other day. Well, more like Wilson was telling him to get his shit together and ask you out.”

“I don’t think he’s the type to ask someone out via text,” you said, “I think he will come to the shop one of these days.”

“Why?”

“He looked sort of….” You searched for the word in your mind, “Uh-clueless?”

“Clueless?”

“Yeah, you know how assassins usually flirt,” you ignored her noise of disagreement, “He wasn’t like that.”

“You really need to focus on the personal details of his file.”

You scowled, “What is that supposed to mean?” you asked, “I know his favorite weapons, what knives he—”

“Personal file,” she repeated, “You know there’s more to people than their weapons of choice right?”

“I might have to engage in combat if I’m ever compromised, and do you know how many people walked away alive after engaging in combat with the Winter Soldier in all these decades?” you asked, “Three. Three people; Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and they are legends. I might be good, but I’m not that good.”

“Just memorizing his arsenal can’t help you in this mission,” she said, “Did you know that he hasn’t exactly dated since becoming the Winter Soldier? His ex Connie ended up having 3 kids and a long career at the post office—“

“What am I supposed to do Chloe, stalk grandma’s Instagram?”

“No, she passed away 5 years ago.”

“Of course she did,” you mumbled, “Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’m already knee deep in my own cover, I can’t get into Barnes’s past when it’ll give me no advantage in the mission.”

“Y/N-“

“Trust me,” you cut her off, looking in the mirror to fix your uniform, “I have everything under control.”

                                              ***

You had maybe like one thing under control and that was the milkshake you were currently pouring into a mason jar. After a crash course in different recipes yesterday, you barely needed any help from your coworkers and seeing that the shop wasn’t very crowded, you didn’t have to rush.

And now you knew how to make three things; pasta, eggs and milkshakes.

If Keith were here, he would’ve said those were 3 main food groups.

“Tara, we’re running low on maraschino cherries,” you said as you shook the can and your new coworker turned to you.

“Oh that’s okay, there’s another jar are under the counter.”

You put the cherry over the whipped cream, and handed the jar to her. “There you go.”

“Another week of working here and you will come up with your own recipes,” she said, “Tell me the truth, are you like a spy sent by a rival company?”

You stared at her, then forced a laugh.

“I wish,” you said, “Maybe I’d be paid more.”

“Good point,” she said and walked to give the milkshake to the customer while you put the empty jar aside, then went under the counter to search for a new jar.

“Strawberries….” You read the labels out loud as you heard the wind bells chime by the door, “Figs, berries—cherries!”

You reached out to grab the jar and stood up but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of the figure by the door and held your breath, the jar slipping from your grip before you caught it mid-air.

“Bucky.” You breathed out, before you remembered to plaster a smile on your face.

Naïve, soft hearted civilian.

He stole a look around as if he expected someone to attack him at any seconds in a milkshake shop before he stepped closer to the counter you were standing behind.

“Hi.”

“Hi-hi there!” you said, putting the jar down, “You came!”

“You sound surprised,” he smiled and you shrugged your shoulders, shooting him a mischievous look,

“Better late than never, I suppose.”

He hissed in a breath, “Ouch, was it that late?”

“Just a little,” you said “So what can I get you?”

He looked up at the board over the wall, “What are my options?”

“Well, we have Unicorn Cotton Candy, Pumpkin Spice Latte, Candy Cane Passion, Lavender Macaron—“ you stopped talking when you saw the clueless look on his face and cleared your throat, “Or hey, maybe chocolate? We have chocolate milkshake.”

“Chocolate sounds good.”

“Coming right up.” You took a mason jar from the shelf to get to it and he grabbed his wallet, making you raise your brows.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on—”

“I’m going to make you an overly complicated milkshake if you try to pay for this,” you warned him, shaking the can before putting whipped cream on top of the milkshake, “It’s on the house, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said quickly, making you point at him with the straw.

“Either way, I’m warning you. I’m armed and dangerous.”

“Consider me intimidated,” he said with a grin as he put the cash into the tip jar and you narrowed your eyes.

“Bucky.”

“Well technically, tip doesn’t count.”

“I wonder where I heard that before,” you muttered under your breath while he walked to pull himself a seat.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said, reminding yourself that your cover probably wouldn’t make dirty jokes and went to place the milkshake in front of him.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” You waved a dismissive hand and rested your elbows on the counter, leaning in slightly.

He was gentleman enough to not check out your cleavage, instead kept his gaze on your face, making you suppress a smile.

“You were right,” Bucky said, his eyes darting around the café after a couple of seconds, “About how this place looked. It is creepily accurate.”

“Really?”

“I mean we didn’t have a neon flowers corner, but…” he trailed off, “Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

“Is that why you look like you expect someone to jump out of shadows and attack you?” you asked and his head shot up before he scrunched up his face.

“That obvious?”

“Not that I have lots of experience but so far none of the customers looked this uncomfortable while drinking a milkshake,” you said, “Is it because deep down you actually wanted to try Unicorn Cotton Candy?”

“Oh no, I’m good with classics,” He held up his milkshake, “No I just think that I’m a bit….uh, rusty.”

“Rusty,” you repeated, “On what?”

“On this.”

You batted your lashes, looking up at him and you could almost feel him being lured in.

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” you said softly after a beat and he gulped, taking a deep breath.

“It’s just that you’re—“ he cleared his throat, “You’re very beautiful and it’s been decades since I last asked someone out for a date.”

Winter Soldier, credited with over 100 assassinations, you reminded yourself Don’t lower your guard, it’s just a cover.

Don’t believe in your own cover.

You bit down a smile, tilting your head.

“Well, I didn’t think you were rusty,” you said and he raised his brows.

“You didn’t?”

“Not at all,” you said, “For the record, I’m definitely going to say yes.”

“Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you grinned, “Once you actually ask me, that is. With words, not an implication.”

His smile was almost playful, “With words, huh?”

“I’m old fashioned like that,” you taunted him, “Let’s see how we can make it less awkward for you though. Would you feel more comfortable to ask me out if you knew some weird stuff about me?”  

“You know, that would help a lot actually.”

You tapped your fingernails on the counter, looking up at the ceiling, pretending to be in deep thought. Your superiors had always said the best cover stories were somehow based on real life without revealing your identity, so you figured telling him random things about you wouldn’t hurt or put the mission in danger.

“Well, I really like grapes but I don’t like the skin, so I end up peeling every grape I eat, one by one,” you counted with your fingers, “I watched a documentary once and now I can’t swim in any lakes because I keep thinking I’ll get attacked by that weird flesh eating bacteria. When I was sixteen, I was the president of the chess club but I had a boyfriend who didn’t believe in the moon landing—”

“I heard about the moon landing!” he said quickly, “I didn’t get around to watch it yet though.”

“Oh my God, you should.”

“What else?”

“I’m scared of peacocks,” you confessed, “I know everyone says they’re beautiful but they look like they’re waiting for the right time to attack you.”

He looked like he was fighting with himself not to laugh and he pressed his metal fist on his lips, his whole attention on you.

“You can’t laugh!” you exclaimed and he shook his head, trying to look as serious as possible.

“I’m not!” he managed to hide his chuckle with a cough, “Keep going, this is very helpful.”

You heaved a sigh. “Well, do you want to hear the most embarrassing one?”

“Absolutely.”

“I normally keep my phone on mute 24/7 but since last week it’s been on full volume because I was terrified I’d miss something important.”

The amused light in his eyes got softer and he lowered his hand, a smile warming his face.

Hook, line…

“I was um— I was hoping for you to call, you see.” you said, averting your gaze from him to look down for a second, biting on your lip.

His voice was raspy; “Were you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, mumbling an inaudible maybe, and his eyes trailed down to your lips before snapping up to lock your gaze in his.

“What time do you get off work today?”

And sinker.

Time to pull back.

You sucked in a breath through your teeth, “I work at the soup kitchen tonight.”

“Oh –I thought you said it was on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

“I did, I’m just covering for a friend tonight. Family emergency, she says.” you said and pushed your hair behind your ear, shifting your weight, “But my shift is over at 6 tomorrow and I can be ready around 7, I live really close by. If you’re- if you’re free, that is.”

“I am.”

“It’s a date, then.”

“It’s a date,” he repeated and stood up, “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See you tomorrow Bucky.” You smiled as he walked out of the shop and Tara came closer to you.

“Wow, you’ve been here a month and you met someone that hot?” she said and winked at you, “Good job there.”

Right.

Good job.

                                             ***

“So, wait—“ Chloe came closer to sit between you and Keith, holding a huge bowl of popcorn, “He just showed up?”

“Mm hm.”

“And you have a date tomorrow?”

Keith uncapped your beer and handed you the bottle as you rested your feet on the coffee table.

“You’re being careful, aren’t you?” he asked you and you nodded.

“Sure.”

“He doesn’t suspect anything?”

“No, he’s buying this whole naïve soft hearted civilian thing,” you said while Chloe snatched the remote from Keith’s hand, ignoring protests.

“And are you?”

You dragged your eyes from the list of movies on the screen. “I want a horror movie.”

“Well too bad, I want an action movie.”

“We’re watching a rom-com and that’s final!” Chloe pointed at both of you, making you groan.

“Why does this keep happening?” Keith asked to no one in particular and she snapped her fingers.

“It’s my turn and my place so I pick the movie,” she said and shot you a look, “I’m still waiting for an answer, by the way. You don’t….you don’t have feelings for Barnes, right?”

Keith stole a look at you before turning to Chloe,

“I don’t think our dear friend here wants a relationship beautiful,” he told her, “Not after what happened the last time.”

You could feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as a shiver ran down your spine.

“I don’t even know Barnes all that well yet, but I can assure you he’s not the type to—“ you paused, “Do something that cowardly.”

Keith gritted his teeth. “Where is that asshole anyway?”

“Hungary,” Chloe said and you raised your brows.

“Undercover?”

“Yeah. I hope he gets compromised and dies there.”

“Very unlikely,” you murmured, “Anyways, what brought this on? My feelings for Barnes?”

“It’s just that I recently read Vincent Smith’s file,” she said, “You guys remember Vincent?”

“Who?”

“His code name was Marco.”

“Oh, I remember Marco!” Keith said, “That guy took down a whole unit by himself. What happened to him?”

“He is missing.” Chloe said and you pulled your brows together.

“Since when do agents go missing and we don’t know where they are?”

“Since they fall for the target.”

“No way,” Keith chuckled, “Badass spy Marco fell in love? Poor idiot.”

“You’re a terrible person, Keith.”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, did you say he fell for the target?”

“Yeah, I saw the reports from his handler. And now he’s missing, and I don’t want you to run away with Barnes like Marco did with his target.”

You and Keith exchanged glances and you clicked your tongue.

“Chloe babe, he’s not missing.” you said “He’s dead.”

She pulled back slightly, “You don’t know-“

“Yes I do. You don’t fall for the target and compromise the whole mission, not unless you want to end up dead.”

“There’s no report of that,” she insisted and Keith sipped his beer.

“What did his report say, sweetheart?”

“That he was removed from his mission before going missing.”

Keith scoffed, “Rest in peace Marco, you won’t be missed.”

“How do you know—“

“Because that’s the code,” you said, “If the report says he was removed from his mission and went missing, it means he was killed by an agent on our side.”

“We killed our own agent?” she exclaimed and you turned the beer bottle in your hand,

“He stopped being our agent the moment he fell for the target.”

Chloe covered her mouth with her hands, worry etched into her expression, “Y/N, please, please promise me you won’t somehow get too involved in this mission and fall for Barnes and put yourself in danger.”

You let out a small laugh, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“It’s the Winter Soldier we’re talking about,” you reminded her and chewed on the popcorn, “Trust me, that would never happen.”

“Cross your heart?”

You heaved a sigh and clinked your beer bottle with hers.

“Cross my heart honey,” you assured her, “There’s no way I’d sign my own death warrant by doing something that stupid.”  

Chapter 6

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

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

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

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

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

-:-:-:-:-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You love to see it."

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

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

"Thank you, kind sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

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

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

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

"Tom!" you hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

Typical Thomas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Me," Tom said proudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

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

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

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Doggy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a little shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when you step in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

like, reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your thoughts! <3

♛ Overall/Everything Taglist: @theunwantedomega​ @badreputatiom​ @fallinfortom​ @disneysamara​ @avengersficwriter​ @musicalkeys​ @apatheticanvas67482​ @camimndess​ @tom-hlover​ @jjandreidsgirl​ @blossomparkers​ @thenoddingbunny-blog​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @call-me-baby-gir1​ @miraclesoflove​ ♛ Tom H. Taglist: @hollandfanficlove​​ @averyfosterthoughts​​ @2018shawn​​ @darlingspidey​​ @namoreno​​ @spacebitch2 @hollanddolanfangirl​​ @keepingupwiththehollands​​ @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh​​ @unbelievableholland​​ @kittenruby​​ @sunkisseddreamer​​ @worldoftom​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @big-galaxy-chaos​​ @clara-licht​​ @dummiesshort​​ @imanativeofswlondondahling​​ @sonofabitchstyles​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @geminiparkers​​ @parker-hollandx​​ @arivera-30​ @rebekkah4766​ @particularnarry​ @iwannabekilledtwice​ @prettyintopeerpressure​ @fancyxholland​ @givebuckyhisplumsnow​ @asoftie4bucky​ @dandelionxgal​ @peterspideysstuff​ @zspideyy​​

[filmmies-writing]

Past, Present & Future

pairing : ex!avengers reader x Zemo

word count : 1.3k

warning : mention of death

summary : you used to visit Zemo at the prison after the event of civil war but then he cut you off because he started to have feelings for you. Now that Bucky’s going to break him out, he needs your help babysitting this bad guy.

a/n : hello guyssssss <3 It's been quite a while since I posted my debut one shot. I really do appreciate every like, reblog and comment from my previous work (for anyone who hasn't checked it out yet, here you go!)THANK YOU🥺 At first I was thinking of making a short fanfiction, 3 parts was the first thought that came to my mind but I really enjoy writing this so maybe it’ll be more than 3 parts I suppose. You can also leave your ideas for the next part in the comment or what you think of this chapter, I’d really love to read them :) And fyi, your likes, reblogs and comments are what keep me going so pls 🥺🥺😂😂 Sorry if there’s any mistakes, English is not my first language. Also I’ll pin my masterlist on this blog as soon as I finish making it :))))) 

|

“And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me” 

(I Found - Amber Run)                                     

“Do you still visit him?” Bucky asked through the phone, his voice steady and calm, like he already made a decision in his mind.

“After I’d blipped back I might have been there once or twice, but the last time was last year I guess” you said and you shrugged your shoulders as you walked around your apartment trying to find a chocolate you just bought but forgot where you put it at.

Yes, you’ve visited this criminal several times and some of your teammates know it. After you were informed about why he started all of his demeanors, about his motivation, as a person who doesn’t have any family left and witnessed everything that happened at the battle of Sokovia with your own eyes, you strongly have sympathy for him. 

You see him as a man who let his emotions and anger take over his intelligent-self and just tried to do what he thought was right, what he thought it’ll make him feel better after he achieved it. And now that he succeeded his plan, deep down he still feels pretty empty. You can tell just  from looking at him in the eyes, even there’s a thick glass between. And you bet he had taken some steps back to see his work and spent some time with himself, thinking. And you know he could see it too. Nothing changed, his family is still gone. Only thing new to him is that he now has to spend years after years rotting in German prison, which allows him to have more time to think about his family and his past actions. He was about to go insane.

But thank god you went to visit him.

You started to visit him for the very first time after six months of the airport battle. Bringing him some books considering how boring he would feel behind bars. But you were quite confused when you saw that his cell is more superior than the others. Even though it may seem dark and lifeless like the other cells, his cell is a lot bigger compared to others. He also has privileges to read all the up-to-date newspapers and books given from the guards that he seems to  be paying extra for.

In the beginning, it was him who always started a conversation by questioning you. According to his genius mind’s calculation, he never expected any Avengers to visit him and especially to be this nice to him after what he had done, what he had caused. And clearly he was wrong, so he needed to know why you’re doing all of this since he thought he can never be wrong. Maybe you want to take revenge at him? Or could it be that you’re just really nice? 

“Why being so nice to me?” he asked directly, wanting to see your reaction to his action.

“I just feel bad for what happened to you” you didn’t lie but kept looking down to the ground to avoid his gaze on you. You’ve heard about his reputation, how good he is at manipulating and you didn’t want to be his another victim.

It took only a few more times of visiting him for you to realize that you unexpectedly bonded with your friends’ greatest enemy and surprisingly enjoy spending your time with him, he would always tell you stories from his many journeys, but still not the private ones. He never wanted to share any of his family’s memories with anyone and he intended to keep it that way.

After getting to know him a lot more than you should, you soon realized that he’s a Baron after all, a royalty, which answered your curiosity perfectly about why he can still access so many privileges even behind the bars. 

In return, you shared with him how you feel to be an Avengers, pressures and expectations you had received during that time. A hard decision you made that still haunts you in your sleep every night. 

You two sometimes share your opinion on books you bring to him. You went back to the prison countless times with a handful of snacks, sweets and books. That’s why he thinks you’re too nice, too good for him. 

Although he’s in prison, he still manages to spoil you with many presents that have been sent to your door time after time on  special days such as your birthday and Christmas. 

For Helmut, at first, these acts were only to return your kindness. At least that’s what he convinced himself since he doesn’t want to admit that he started to have feelings for you. He keeps telling himself he’ll never love again, but you make it hard for him.

And for you, no one has ever cared about you as much as he did. But still, you persuaded yourself he’s just a friend, a good friend. 

But when it came to the point that Zemo cannot lie to himself anymore, he decided to face the truth and deal with it in a very definitive way. He cut you off. Completely.

He added your name to the list of people he prohibited to visit him. You were heartbroken when you first found out but maybe it’s for the best that things didn’t go any further than this, you cajoled yourself. In the first few months, it was hard for you not to think of him, but now that it has been almost a year, you’re finally doing fine.

To clarify his action, his mind keeps telling him that after what he had done to you, he doesn’t deserve you. You deserve to be happy, to live your life with someone that’s not stuck in a prison like him. Someone as good as you. Not a state-criminal like him. Another reason for him would be because he doesn’t want anyone to replace his wife. Even after so many years she has passed away, she still holds a very special place in his heart and he would never want any memories with someone else to replace those precious memories he has left of her.

“And do you think it’s gonna be fine if he’s out of the prison?” Your eyes automatically blinked, starting to feel terrified by what Bucky just asked you.

“I... I... I don’t know, I can’t reassure you anything, I mean I believe that he’ll be useful to your case but he can be very manipulative so you must be careful when he’s out” You said what you could think of at that moment. You can never think straight when it comes to the Baron.

Bucky replied with silence for a moment but not too long until he continued the conversation and said “Wanna do your old friends a favor?” 

You know he wants you with them in case things go wrong with Zemo since you seem to be the one who knows him best compared to them. Also in Bucky and Sam’s aspect, your fighting and investigating skills would be really helpful to the team. And who knows what the new cap is about? So it’s clearly better to have you included in this little team.

“Sure..” To be honest, you’re quite afraid to face the Baron again but you can never say no to your friends and plus you want to do something in return for them since they always taking a good care of you, they’re like older brothers to you and you couldn’t let they go out there on their own knowing that you can help them.

“See you at the prison tomorrow then, I believe you know your way there already” Bucky replied before hanging up.

This is going to be a hell of a journey!

[just--another--daydreamer]

Close to you

» Izuku Midoriya x male reader

» Angst with some fluff » Requested (by anon): I need a fix of desperate, angsty fluff with Izuku. Maybe his hero bf recklessly goes after a villain alone and gets captured, so Pro-hero Deku has to rush to his rescue, scared of what he might find. » Warnings: mentions of religion at the beginning; dissociation; anxiety; overthinking; smoking; emetophobia; descriptions of blood & gore; mentions of death » Words: ~3.5k

You can find a link to my Masterlist etc in my bio and pinned post

Midoriya had never been one to pray to any gods for a wish. To him, it often felt selfish – after all, there were people who needed help more desperately than he did and they should receive it first. Even during his darkest moments, he had never even thought about praying, he had always known that he could rely on his own strength as well as his friends.

However, this time, his hands trembled as he put them together in a manner meant for praying. With his eyes closed and head lowered, Midoriya tried to think of a way to phrase his prayer but no right wording would come to his mind – in the end, he only stared at the dark behind his closed eyelids, incomprehensible thoughts filling his mind.

“Izuku.” A firm grip on his shoulder pulled Midoriya from his thoughts. It caught him off-guard, and he almost prepared himself for an attack before he recognized the person who stood before the bench Midoriya sat on. “Oh Shouto, it’s you!” Midoriya sighed in relief at the sight of his friend. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but the meeting should start very soon, and I didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to you before the others are here.” They were still the only ones in the bright yet depressing hallway of the hero agency that Deku currently worked at, and after taking a quick look at his watch, Midoriya figured that it would still take the other heroes a few minutes to get there. “Sure, what is it?” The light smile that had adorned Todoroki’s lips from when he had just greeted Midoriya vanished again and was replaced by a deep, concerned frown.

“I don’t think you should be leading this mission, Izuku, but someone else should do it,” Todoroki’s voice sounded just as concerned as he looked. “To be frank I would not even want you to participate in this rescue at all, but I don’t think that I could ever stop you from that.” Midoriya took a moment to think about his fellow pro hero’s words. It had already taken him all the self-control he had to not immediately run after you to save you, so he had to be on this mission. Though, he had to admit that due to the personal feelings toward this mission, his judgement might be off, so having someone else lead it would probably put them at an advantage.

“When you’re saying, ‘someone else’, do you mean yourself?” he inquired, and Todoroki nodded in confirmation. Midoriya took a few seconds to consider the proposal. Down the hall, he could hear the rest of the team for the rescue mission approach them. “Alright, let’s do it!”

The small conference room was unusually quiet. There was no happy catching up with one another, no euphoric reunions after not seeing each other for a few months. A pressing silence filled the room like thick, heavy fog as the ex-class 1A students Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida, Kirishima and Uraraka sat around the table, eyes fixed on their hands and the files in front of them. The only words that had been spoken were words of solidarity towards Midoriya, which he appreciated.

While Todoroki opened the meeting by greeting everyone and thanking them for coming, Midoriya stared down at his hands. The skin on his fingertips around the nails was reddened, a side effect of his anxious habit of biting his fingernails. Midoriya thought that he had gotten rid of said habit, but the current situation had changed many things. Before him on the table, his hands started to blur as his eyes filled with tears once again. He quickly wiped them away, hoping that nobody would notice.

Todoroki’s speech only barely reached him, only as a seemingly distant, faint mumbling as though he was speaking to Midoriya through a thick concrete wall. The whole room started feeling like a wide and open space with his former classmates miles and miles away. Mind numbing emptiness filled Midoriya’s heart and went through his veins until it was the only thing he felt in his whole body. As his breathing got faster, his heartrate picked up. Why was he there? Why was he not on his way to get you already? Even though he sat perfectly still, Midoriya felt dizzy, only from the way his mind spun – around and around and around like a carousel, Deku being the only passenger on this horrendous ride.

“You look really pale, Deku, are you alright?” Uraraka’s voice was as soft as ever. The soothing tone was able to momentarily stop Midoriya’s mind. For a second, he looked at her without an answer before simply nodding.

Only when Todoroki asked Midoriya to go over the situation once again, he was completely pulled back into reality. His legs trembled a little as Deku stood up. The eyes of his former classmates all followed his movements very carefully, trying to get clues about their friend’s mental state that the situation caused. Uraraka and Kirishima looked especially worried whereas Todoroki and Iida kept their expressions professional.

“Thank you everyone for coming on such short notice,” Midoriya started. He balled his hands to fists and squeezed as hard as he could to keep his mind from wandering too much that might cause him to break down again. “The villain organization that has been watched by several agencies for the past few months made a move about a week ago, as some of you may know. It was the first incident of that kind and several civilians got hurt in the process.” Deku clearly remembered the pictures of the scene on the news. Neither his nor the hero agency you worked for had been able to stop that despite being the ones watching the organization. “Y/N went after the villains alone and has not been seen since.” His voice got quieter with every word he spoke.

Your actions contradicted what you had learned at UA not so long ago. Staying calm and collected in crises, thinking rationally, and getting help was the priority. But guilt and anger had eaten you up. Midoriya could not blame you for that, even if he wanted to. He had experienced the same feelings in the past, put himself in danger, worried others, all because he wanted to play hero. Midoriya sat down again and let Todoroki take over once again.

“Since we know where the villains are hiding, it will be easy to retrieve the target.” ‘The target’. Midoriya flinched. The way the words came out of Todoroki’s mouth, the lack of emotion and his straight face were something admirable and scary at the same time. Reducing you to merely the word ‘target’ and the emotional disconnect that came with it would probably make this mission easier for Deku, but he just did not manage to think that way. With a sigh, he sank deeper into his chair and listened to Todoroki’s plan.

It was an easy one, starting with negotiations led by Iida. He was the best that that sort of thing, so Midoriya had no problem leaving that to him. However, he was not really fond of the idea of exchanging your life for something like money but since it was the easiest way to avoid direct confrontation, they had to try it. If that did not work, Iida would go in through the front door, and Todoroki, Deku, Kirishima and Uraraka through the back door in two teams to get ‘the target’ out by themselves. Combat was to be avoided. The top priority was getting you out, not arresting the bad guys, though the police would be waiting in front of the building to take them in.

The base of the small villain group was an abandoned warehouse – because of course it would be that. The alley behind it was narrow and dirty, littered with shards of glass and cigarette butts. Next to the dark water in the potholes, Midoriya could see dried as well as fresh blood shimmering on the asphalt. The sight made him sick, a feeling he had not experienced in a while.

The four heroes came to a halt at the place where they would go into the building through the back door. There were no guards, which came as a surprise, but even if there had been some it would not have been a problem for any of them. Midoriya and Todoroki stayed back and inspected the alley while Uraraka and Kirishima got ready at the heavy double-winged door

 Midoriya crouched down and inspected the blood stains. Todoroki’s eyes were fixed on him, he could almost physically feel it. With his gloved hand, Midoriya moved some reddened shards around, not entirely sure of what he was doing or why he was doing it in the first place, but it was a way to keep his hands and mind busy. Todoroki had his own ways of doing that. “I thought you quit,” Midoriya remarked. “I thought so too, but-” Todoroki did not care to finish his sentence and only a few seconds later, the smell of cigarette smoke reached Deku. He wrinkled his nose. “The situation is getting to me too, you know?” Todoroki’s pronunciation was a bit curious with the cig between his lips. “The same goes for the others. Kirishima, Uraraka, Iida, they’re all worried. Bakugou, too, even though he isn’t here today.” A short pause. Deku assumed that Todoroki was taking a deep drag. “It is really getting to me.” His voice was quieter this time and it had a tone to it that Deku barely knew from his friend. It was desperate, hopeless, pleading.

Midoriya had no words of affirmation that he could tell Todoroki. Hell, if he could think positively in this situation, everything would be a lot easier. He searched and searched for words, but none would come to his mind. And in the end, he did not need to say anything. Midoriya’s communication device made a static sound, before he heard Iida’s voice, loud and clear. »Negotiations failed. What will be the next step?« “We’re going in,” Todoroki told them without hesitation. “Understood!” Midoriya got back up and was at the door in less than a second. He looked at Uraraka and Kirishima, both had a determined look on their face.

Todoroki stepped to them and – given the lack of a bin – dropped his half-smoked cigarette to the ground. “That’s not very heroic of you, Todoroki,” Kirishima commented. Uraraka giggled and even Midoriya managed to crack a smile. “I’ll pick it up later,” the leader of their mission said and Deku was sure he saw his lips twitch into a fond expression as well, even if it was only for a split second. They all became serious again. “Deku, open the door for us.”

  The inside of the building was dark and empty, and Midoriya was not sure why he had expected anything else. His and Uraraka’s footsteps on the wet ground resounded through the empty hallway. It was quite dark, most of the lamps on the walls were either broken or very dim, so the major source of light were the occasional holes in the ceiling. It took Midoriya all the self-control he had not to activate One For All and charge forward – Uraraka and he were a team, and they should stay together since running around alone might be dangerous. The further they got into the building, the harder it got for Midoriya to keep it together. With every door they opened, with every room they inspected, anxiety and terror grew withing him. There was no sign of you.

It did not take long for some villains to show up, but at this point in time they were no match for Deku. Anyone who tried to get in his way right now was put down in mere seconds. Uraraka kept his back free and had an eye on him in case he got too reckless.

The last door he approached was a pain to open. Midoriya had to push it with his shoulder since the hinges were rusty and it took him a few tries until the door finally budged and creaked open. Behind the door, Midoriya was met with a pitch-black room. He reached over to the wall besides the entrance and searched for a light switch. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered on, only giving enough light for Midoriya to see the rough shapes of the room’s interior, but it slowly started glowing brighter. That was when his heart stopped.

For a split second, Midoriya thought that maybe he had come too late, that maybe you were already dead. The sight of you, tied to a chair with ropes so tight that they were cutting into the flesh on your wrists and ankles sent shivers up and down his spine. Blood dripping down from your chin had already formed a small pool on the already wet floor. He noticed the smell of blood, sweat and vomit still fresh and heavy in the air.

“Y/N?” His voice was merely a whisper. Maybe he was afraid that if he were loud enough for you to hear, you would not react. Midoriya forced himself to take a step. Lift his foot off the ground, move it onwards, put it down again. Now with his other foot. Lift, onwards, down. And again. With every step, a new wave of sensations and feelings washed over Midoriya. First it was disgust – he could not help that one but looking at your skin peeling off your flesh and exposing the bare muscle tissue and bone almost made him vomit. Then it was hysteria – Midoriya could both laugh and cry out loud until he lost his voice, kiss you on your dead cold bloody lips, dance and jump through this awful room – because he finally found you but what if it were too late? Then it was fear – and with this feeling numbing his mind once again, he reached you.

“Y/N?” He crouched down so his face was on one level with yours. The dull sound of Midoriya’s gloves falling to the ground echoed through the room, to him it was almost as loud as an explosion. As he held his breath, his now bare hand reached out for you almost all on its own, touched your neck, searched for a pulse. To Midoriya’s relief, your skin was not cold, but warm. Maybe even a bit too warm. His hand wandered up your neck and he cupped your cheek, wiped away some blood with his thumb. Under his touch, your muscles twitched. Midoriya pulled back and watched as your eyes fluttered open. Your gaze was empty and unfocused for a while, wandering from the dark walls of the room to the lightbulb over your head, until it stopped on Midoriya’s face.

He watched as your eyes widened. “Izuku?” Your voice was hoarse and filled with so much desperation that it made the hero’s heart drop. “Is it really you?” Midoriya nodded. He pressed his lips together and did not dare to answer, afraid that his voice would break if he said anything. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You made an attempt to reach out for him but the restraints around your wrists made that impossible. Midoriya swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stay focused. “And I’ve been looking for you. I’ll get you out of here now.” Over the comms, he quickly informed his teammates over the mission’s success before he reached into his pocket for a knife. “I’m sorry that I’m so late,” he told you as he cut through the ropes. They were sticky, some even slippery from the blood. Deku tried not to pay too much attention to that but the sight of the crimson red shimmering on his hands made him gag. “The most important thing is that you’re here now.” You cracked a smile, but it did not look too convincing.

Once your hands were free, you swiftly wrapped your arms around Midoriya. It took him by surprise, but he hugged you back, careful not to use too much strength that might hurt you. You buried your face deep in Midoriya’s chest, fingers digging into his back, clinging to his suit. Just now he felt the way your body trembled, Midoriya did not know if it was exhaustion or fear. Maybe he was shaking as well. He wanted to stay like this forever, feel you in his arms, warm and alive, hold onto this thought and only this one while ignoring the horrible reality. Blood wet Midoriya’s clothes but he had nothing to take care of your wounds with. To be honest, he did not want to look at them. All he wanted was to keep holding on to you, forever.

Fighting noises reached his ears, not too far away. Men yelling. Your grip tightened a little and Midoriya thought that maybe you were shaking a little more now. “I want to leave, Izuku,” you whispered. Midoriya did not say anything. He listened carefully as the noises faded away. A few seconds of pressing silence passed awfully slow. »We’re all clear!« Todoroki’s voice was calm but Midoriya heard a hint of relief. However, he decided to stay put for a few more minutes to make sure that no other people were picking a fight anywhere else.

“Let’s go,” he said after a while. He could not spend another minute in this building, afraid that you might end up dying from your injuries.

As gently as he possibly could, Midoriya lifted you from the chair and carried you out of the building.

  Talking to the police and the press was a pain. Todoroki did most of it, given that he had been the leader of this mission, but Deku still had to talk to everyone as well. Press conferences with countless questions, some challenging their beliefs and morals as heroes, some too personal for Midoriya to answer – questions about you, your wellbeing, your relationship to the hero Deku. When he was not currently being interrogated by the public, Midoriya spent every free minute in the hospital, by your side. At first the doctors had not let him see you, but he had still stayed there the entire time. And when he was finally allowed in your room, Midoriya could not contain himself and his emotions any longer.

He sobbed and cried and swore and apologized all in one go without taking a breath while you tried to calm him down. He held your hand the entire time he was there, afraid that if he let go off you for one second, some villains might separate the two of you again.

“When are you getting released from the hospital?” Uraraka questioned while she put a small bouquet into a vase on the windowsill. The blossoms shone in the golden light of the evening sun and threw dancing shadows on your white blanket. “Next week, probably.” You gave her a tired smile. “Though I’ll have to be inactive for a while during my healing process.” Midoriya knew that having to neglect your hero duties like that was hard for you, so he squeezed your hand reassuringly. “We’re all wishing you well!” “Thanks Uraraka!” The two of you watched as the young woman left again. She was not the only one who had visited. The whole team had been there, Todoroki visited frequently, and even Bakugou had showed up once or twice.

“This sucks, I’m so bored!” You whined, getting a short chuckle from Midoriya. “I know, but you need some more rest.” He looked down at your intertwined fingers. Your wrists were still covered in bandages but some of your wounds had started to heal again. However, it would still take quite a while for you to fully recover. Midoriya ran his thumb over the fabric. “You’ll get better soon, and I’ll always be here to support you during this time. I miss you at home and being close to you.” “Thank you. And I miss that too.” A soft smile formed on your lips, so Midoriya leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on them. He lingered there for a moment before standing up and grabbing his jacket. “I should get going, it’s late and you need your rest.” “Alright!”

Midoriya slipped into his jacket but before he could leave, you sat up, grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him down into another kiss. “Hey, you’re supposed to lay dow-” Midoriya started to complain but quickly quit to return the kiss. When you let him go and Midoriya walked towards the door he had a smile on his face. Everything was going to be fine. He turned around by the door and looked at the flowers and the curtain moving in the wind. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” “See you tomorrow, Izuku!”

[imagine--if]

quick blog update 😊

So I decided to change my username to something a little more anonymous and separated from my professional novel writing (Mind Of Meesha) a couple days ago… forgetting that all the links on the masterlists will need editing 🤣

So sorry if this has caused any confusion! I have updated every link now, so the masterlists should all be okay now. If you are looking for anything in particular, you can also search my blog for it or replace the link addresses of old reblogs of the previous masterlists with my new username - imagine—if - where my old one is, and that should fix it 😅

Also, I’m working on making a proper blog intro pinned post to the blog and including any request and fandoms I’m writing for information to make things clearer for everyone. So that should be out soon 😁

Also, thanks to everyone who helped in trying to get the plagiarised To My Hope story off that Ao3 account 🙄 that’ll hopefully be dealt with soon, and you can really tell it’s my work since I published it on Ao3 myself before 😂

Enjoy reading!! 🖤

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 3

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.) I read about spooning bondage while making my prompt list, and it sounded like fun to write. So we’ve got that mixed with some thigh-fucking here. Summary An evening with Solomon often meant experimentation. Sometimes that meant practicing spells, others that meant getting tied up and teased.

Tags/Warnings Blindfolds, Bondage. Creampie, Gags, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Sex

Kinktober 2021, 03: Bondage (Reader x Solomon | Obey Me!)

You paused at the edge of the bed, feeling it brush the back of your legs. You were lucky not to accidentally tumble backward onto the sheets as thoroughly distracted as you were by Solomon’s lips moving against yours and his hand on your waist. Clinging to him as if desperate until the kiss was broken from the need for air, you were left panting and flushed, heart thudding in your chest as you looked into cunning eyes cloud with desire.

You moved to kiss him again, but Solomon didn’t return as expected, much to your dismay. Instead, his fingers danced beneath your clothes, swiftly stripping them away. He tossed most of them into an untidy pile, placing one garment you were almost certain was your panties aside mindfully. With a fleeting look of craving, he pushed you gently, urging you back onto the bed. You fell down onto your back, scooting up the bed and sitting up on your palms to watch the snowy-haired sorcerer.

When your eyes moved to him, Solomon seemed preoccupied, gathering something from beneath the bed. His glance flicked up after a moment of search, meeting your curious stare. “I won’t take long. Can you roll over and wait for me?” he asked nicely.

Pursing your lips and furrowing your brow as you pondered what he had planned, you agreed with a quick nod, flipping over and easing yourself onto the sheets. You waited, enjoying the cool sensation of the bedsheets on your overheated skin. You tried not to think about the slick, pulsing heat between your legs or how pleasant but agitating the brush of the bedding against your pebbled nipples was.

Solomon’s fingers found your arms in a soft, firm grasp, and you nearly jumped. He guided them above your head, laying your cheek flat on the sheets without them to brace yourself with. There was an urge to twist your neck and see just what Solomon was doing, but you ignored it, trusting that whatever he had in mind was nothing to be worried about. You were used to Solomon giving you a surprise here and there, some of them greater than others, but almost all enjoyable, whatever they were.

After your wrists were pulled together, the coarse texture of what you could only assume was some kind of tether or rope coiled around them. The rope was quickly tied, tight, but not enough to chafe or sting unless you struggled dramatically. You wriggled your hands and fingers, testing the bonds curiously.

Solomon moved on, trailing his fingertips teasingly down your skin as he dipped toward your legs. He gathered your ankles next, and the same sensation of coarse ropes wrapped around them, a bit looser than the ones around your wrists. You tested those gingerly, too, finding them comfortable enough as well, and Solomon moved away. When your focus turned from the ropes, you noticed Solomon had come back into line of sight, and you eyed him with continued interest. He bent down, giving you another much quick quicker kiss, and lifting your head up. When the kiss came to an end, he slipped a band over the back of your head and slid an accompanying blindfold down over your eyes.

The blindfold left you in comfortable darkness, resting against the sheets, waiting for whatever came next. With only your ears to rely on then, you listened to Solomon walk around the bed, before feeling him climb onto it from the opposite side. He grabbed you around the waist, carefully coaxing you to roll onto your side so your back faced his chest. When you obliged him, he moved closer, and the heat of his own naked body greeted you. You licked your lips in anticipation, wriggling unconsciously against your ties.

Releasing your waist, Solomon pressed two fingers against your wetted lips, and you took them in, sucking on them for a second before he drew them back. Quick he replaced them with some sort of makeshift gag, a wad of cloth whose texture was suspiciously alike to the panties you had worn. You made a muffled noise of half-hearted protest at what you suspected was his choice of gag but made no attempt to spit it out.

Deciding you were bound well enough, Solomon turned to indulging himself, teasing you in the process. His fingers stroked along your skin again, light and unhurried. Starting at your neck, they swept down your body, pausing at the swell of your chest to grope and squeeze in a way that made you arch your back and moan into your gag. A stifled squeaked to squeeze past your gag when he tweaked your nipples roughly, before moving on again. His lips brushed your ear and jaw, and you could feel a smile on them

He continued, massaging your stomach and waist and hips, before one hand ghosted over the top of your inners thighs, alternating from one to the other, just as light and frustrating on either side. His other hand migrated back up, returning to cup your breast and roll the nipple between his fingertips once more. You squirmed against the ropes, against Solomon’s body, and into his teasing hands, wishing he would touch your boldly.

He chucked behind you, warm breath washing over your cheek. “Eager?” he asked nonchalantly, as if he had no idea what his touch did to you. “You’ll have to hold on a little longer,” he added, the hand on your thighs caressing a little more roughly, closer to their apex for a hopeful instant, before drifting away.

You whined petulantly, the sound almost completely drowned out behind the gag. As much as it frustrated you, Solomon was determined to tease and take things slow, the anticipation only making you feel more turned on as the seconds and touches went on. For a time, his hand crept too far down your thighs for your liking, and you let out another muffled sound expressing your displeasure. Another sharp pinch to one of your tits distracted you from the less than pleasing behavior of his lower hand, and you arched back into him.

When his hand moved back up between your thighs, finally dragging in an agonizingly slow line up your slit, he ground himself against your backside. Before, when you had squirmed and bucked into him, you had felt evidence of Solomon’s arousal. Now, though, he was using his erection as purposely as his fingers, just another tease and torment you with, while eliciting more pleasure for himself at the same time. It left you little way to turn his game in your favor, left only with the option to play along. He added his teeth and tongue, moving from soft kisses on your neck and jaw to sharp nips and sucking marks into your skin. Combined, all the sensations drained away whatever resolve you may have yet held on to. It reduced you to groans, writing needily against the sheets and his body.

You longed for him to stop playing with you, to fill you with something, whether it was a toy or his fingers or cock. You longed to escape your ropes and pin him down to the bed and give him a taste of his own medicine. To tie him up and take your time until he hadn’t a coherent thought left in his head, save for the thought of your body on his. But none of that was up to you, and you were left little time to dwell on what you wanted to do to him while he continued to torment you.

His hips pushed harder against yours, and his cock slipped between your thighs. HE thrust lazily, the heat of his erection brushing your dripping lips. You clenched your hands into fists as Solomon thrust, working into a slow rhythm, each roll of his hips rubbing him against your cunt, but granting you little satisfaction. You wanted to shout, to demand that he just fuck you already, but any attempts to speak only came out as muffled gibberish.

Finally, though, he granted you some form of reprieve when his fingered dipped between your lips, finding your clit and rubbing in tight circles. Your eyes rolled back for a second beneath your blindfold, and you arched into his touch again, chasing the new friction. It wasn’t long before your hips rocked as readily as Solomon’s, and he moaned against your neck. The sound struck you in the gut, adding to the fire mounting from his touch and the teasing rub of his cock.

He bucked harder, faster, and so, too, did you, bent on following the pleasure to its peak and beyond. His hand on your chest switched back and forth, more uncoordinated and less careful as his moans grew in your ear and his breathing hitched. You whimpered, an airy, almost pitiful sound that nearly cut through the gag, dancing just before the point of no return you chased so madly, the feeling coiling hotter and tighter until it all exploded.

When your orgasm swept over you, your cunt clenching frantically around nothing and your hips rocking wildly into Solomon’s fingers, you heard his breathing reach a fever pitch. His cock twitched hard against the lips of your cunt, and he shifted himself urgently, guiding the head of his length to your hole. He thrust up into you, hard and fast, and you cried out into the gag all over again from the intrusion that gave your pussy something to cling to.

He thrust a few more times, still rubbing your clit dutifully, before he stiffened, biting down lightly on your neck. A few more hard rolls of his hips, and he pumped you full of his cum in hot spurts. The sheer obscenity of your muffled groaned mixed with Solomon’s equally primal one sent a shiver through you, even as your orgasm wound down.

Solomon lay still after he had come, his fingers easing to a stop and then pulling away from your clit. He breathed hotly against your neck, his head tucked into the hollow there, his hair tickling your sweat-slick skin. You felt hot, over-sensitive, and sticky, your breathing matches Solomon’s own taxed breaths. He withdrew slowly, and you shuddered again at the sudden emptiness, feeling a trickle of cum seep down your thigh.

He kissed the marks he’d left on your skin, the touch of his hands returning to being light and gentle, soothing skin assaulted beforehand. “You always take my cum so well,” he murmured in your ear in praise, the affectionate lilt of his words starkly contrasting their lewdness. The words elicited another comfortable shiver, and he laughed, kissing your cheek.

Solomon’s hands left you, and the familiar sensation of magic in the air met you. In an instant, the ropes binding your limbs vanished as if into nothing. He likely hadn’t felt like bothering to untie you in the traditional fashion. You laughed weakly at the thought, moving to pull your blindfold off as Solomon withdrew the makeshift gag from your mouth. With a quick glance, you confirmed it had been your underwear as you thought.

Your wrists weren’t completely free just yet, though, and Solomon languidly captured both in a hand. “When’s it your turn to get tied up like that?” you complained playfully, craning your neck to glance back at him.

Solomon smiled, answering you without skipping a beat. “When I’ve had enough of you like this,” he assured you confidently. “And I haven’t had nearly enough yet.”

[pettyprocrastination]

Dinner for Three

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

OneShot: This is just a non-canon fic! This is basically placed AFTER the timelines of this fic, just a fun little side ficlet surrounding you and the lords after yall get together in celebration of Valentines day!

*If you want to read the rest of the fic so far here's a link to my masterlist where you can find Rip Out Our Seams & Stitch Us Together*

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: profanity, some groping going on and kissing. That's about it! Fluff and talking of self-worth.

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, you decide to treat Valerie to a nice homecooked dinner, Maxwell joins you when he returns home from work.

If the formatting is fucked im sorry tumblr fucked this like three times today im just trying to get it POSTED for you all.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @themarcusmoreno @cinewhore @thesadvampire @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @thecrimsonsquire @phoenixhalliwell @that-chick212 @phantomnae @goldafterglow

If I forgot to tag you I'm so sorry please let me know!

Notes: BIG thank you to @ficsilike-reblogged who bought me a kofi! I know i was meant to do asomething shorter but i couldn't help myself! Also my usual big thanks for the ever lovely @teaofpeach for editing for me you are an absolute treat my dear ily <3

(i coudn't find any good lasagna gifs the TRAGEDY)

“What in God’s name are you wearing?”

You turned around at the shocked voice to see Valerie standing in the kitchen doorway, red painted lips dropped open.

You grinned and planted your hands on your hips with pride. “My Valentine’s Day outfit! You don’t like it?”

Her face fell flat as she looked you up and down; the main culprit of her disdain was the shirt you wore, buttoned neatly and covered in hearts. “Hon, you look like a cartoon character.”

You wiggled your brows. “A sexy cartoon character?”

“Remind me again why I love you?”

Hearing the word ‘love’ from Valerie Lord would never not send your heart into a frenzy. It had been months since the gala, since they had told you about their feelings with courage brought on my champagne and their own confessions to one another.

They finally had each other, why couldn't they have you as well?

Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a… learning curve. When it came to the relationship, Valerie was bad at sharing her feelings. Sure, she’d say when she didn’t like somebody, or when she thought certain food tasted bad or when Maxwell’s new cologne smelled like rat shit. But she wouldn’t tell you when she was sad, insecure or felt like she wasn’t enough for the both of you.

Maxwell was too concerned with the outer view of the relationship, as he had been with Valerie since they got married. It was suspicious of course, for him to be seen leaving with a “mystery woman” without his wife around, so he took certain precautions. When out and about, he would take too much time fretting over the cameras and questions than you.

These precautions nearly cost them your relationship, their sweet girl who brought them together and showed them love and care and made them realize while they couldn't live without each other, they couldn’t live without you as well.

But now, they knew this. That you weren’t a fling who could be replaced. Your nimble fingers had stitched their beating hearts back together with a golden thread they wouldn’t dare untie from your own.

You turned away from the heiress and back to the stove as you stirred the red sauce in front of you.

“As abhorrent as that shirt is-” Her voice purred in your ear as her arms slid around your waist and pulled your back flush against her- “I love you in those jeans.”

You chuckled and kept your eyes on the task at hand as you slowly stirred. “As much of a compliment that is, Mrs. Lord, why don’t you keep those hands to yourself until I put this on the stove, alright?”

She hummed, contemplative before pressing her lips to the crook of your neck. “So mean to me baby.”

Her hands toyed with your belt loop, a painted nail hooking your shirt and slowly sliding it out from where it was tucked.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Valerie.”

“What? Can’t I show my pretty baby some love on Valentines day?”

“Not while I’m cooking on a hot stove, little-miss-gropey.” A quick slap to her wrist with the wooden spoon made her yelp and yank her hands away from you.

“Bitch!”

You turned and pursed your lips. “Aww, poor baby, want me to kiss it better?”

She grumbled under her breath, taking in the splattered food on her wrist from the spoon before swiping her finger through it and bringing it to her mouth.

“Maybe you can kiss my ass instea- Oh, damn that’s good.”

Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of such a high and mighty woman licking the back of her hand.

“Is that-”

“Basil?” She hummed at the taste. “I’m glad you enjoy it. It’s my father’s recipe.”

Valerie watched you as you cooked. Methodically adding each ingredient while humming along to the radio and swaying from side to side. 

“You don’t talk about him much.”

Valerie knew you were different than her and Maxwell. Your childhood wasn’t full of flashing cameras, propping questions, and hiding tears behind fake smiles to reporters. When your father was brought up in conversation, you didn’t bristle or change the subject. You would smile. 

She wasn’t jealous of that joy. That love you had from your family. She’s grateful for it, that amongst the struggles you had, there was also support and happiness. 

“He doesn’t come up in conversation often.” Valerie’s hands once more wrapped around your waist, but simply settled at your hips. Her body was flush with your own and she let her head rest on your shoulder, gently swaying with you as you continued to cook. 

“Tell me about him.”

She saw the small smile that graced your lips, mourning and grateful all at once as you spoke of him. 

“He used to say that as people, we’re a collection of those around us. The ones we’ve loved. All their little mannerisms and tics become a part of who we are. And that we do the same for other people who love us.” 

As you slowly set the pasta onto the bottom of the pan and began to layer the sauce, she wondered who you were an amalgamation of. Was the way you tilted your head back as you laughed from an old flame? 

Was the way you sang and shook your hips from a best friend when you were young, who you wished had been more?

Were the soft kisses you press to the tip of their noses something given to you? Or an act of love learned by watching your parents?

Did you have anything of hers? Of Max’s? 

Did they have anything of yours? 

“I see it in you and Max, yanno.” You stepped back to open the oven and settle the pan on the top rack before shutting it. “You both do a lil’ nose scrunch when you get angry.”

“What?” She drew back from your body, unintentionally wrinkling her nose in the process. “We do not.”

You pulled her close to your body again. Your arms settled around her waist as you slowly moved side to side. You hummed along to the smooth voice of Grover Washington Jr. that danced from the radio and filled the large kitchen, empty except for the two of you. 

“Sure do. You're also both very boujee-”

“Hey.”

“A touch temperamental-”

“I’ll give you that one but-"

“As well as emotionally constipated-”

“Excuse me?”

“And yet-” You hummed, letting your head drop forward to rest against hers, nose bumping against hers in a gentle caress- “I can’t help but love you both every damn day.”

Her blue eyes widened, before she groaned and shoved her face into your shirt. 

“You fucking sap.” She lifted her head to yours and kissed you. The melody curled around you as she wrapped her arms around your neck and tugged you flush against her. A soft moan broke from her lips as you ran your hands over the plush skin of her ass. 

You pulled away long enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, giggling when her face scrunched up in response. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Val."

Valerie Lord never thought she’d have this. This love and security. The ability to smile and kiss and dance on a Sunday night in the arms of a lover. She didn’t think she’d ever have a day where she felt love, a love she wasn’t afraid to admit. 

Especially to two people. 

The pair of you danced in silence, listening to the lyrics that serenaded the way you spun her and the laugh that bubbled up her chest her perfect, pinned, blonde curls came loose. 

And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you.

When Maxwell came home, he noticed how quiet the house was. No chatter or footsteps along the hardwood floors. He knew what day it was, of course he did. He wasn’t an idiot. Valentine’s Day wasn’t a special day with the Lords. It never had been. 

But of course, that was before they met you.

Maxwell never saw that love with his parents. His mother was cold and cruel, and while his father was a good man, he knew he didn’t love her. He didn’t blame him for it. But now he felt it. The way his heart would hammer against his ribs so hard he wondered if you could hear him. The way all his stress and anger would melt away the moment Valerie’s hands held his face in a grasp like that used to carry a bird with a broken wing. 

He didn’t think it was possible to love. To desire and need somebody as much as he did you two. Now he did, and he wouldn’t go back to a life without it for all the money and power in the world. 

The sound of smooth sax caught his attention. Slowly, he set down his briefcase and followed the music until he found himself in front of the kitchen. 

This. Maxwell thought as he watched the two of you, your eyes shut as you held one another in a close embrace as swayed. This is why he did it all. 

The long hours, the greuling work and idiotic employees. If he could come home to this everyday, it’d all be worth it. 

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two until your own eyes opened and met his. 

“Happy to finally have you with us monopoly-man.”

He snorted at your lovingly crude nickname. “It was a long day at work.” Gone was the fake ‘apple-pie-and-picket-fence’ accent he forced himself to use at work when he spoke and you loved it. To see the real Maxwell was a privilege, one you would never take for granted. 

“Every day at work is a long day for you.”

Before he could retort, his wife unwrapped her arms from you and walked over to her husband. Valerie cupped his face in her hand and led him to her lips with a soft moan. Maxwell melted into the kiss with ease, all thoughts of work and conference calls vanished into thin air as his wife’s fingers carded through his hair. She pulled away with a wet pop and ran a thumb over the smudged lipstick on his face. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Maxwell let his hand run over her bottom lip with a lazy smile. She was magnificent like this. Not preened or pinned or posed. She was messy and unkempt and happy. She never looked more breathtaking than in those moments. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

Her eyes flicked over his crisp suit and her sweet smile was replaced with a groan. 

“Son of a bitch you fuckers are matching!”

You shrieked with laughter while Valerie pointed an accusatory finger at the heart-covered tie that lay on her husband’s chest. 

“You tacky traitor!”

You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back. 

“Aw don’t worry, Max. She’s just jealous she isn't matching with us.”

Valerie reared back. “I’ll be caught dead before I ever-”

“Alastair sent them to us.”

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again, more offended than annoyed. 

“And he didn’t send one for me?”

Maxwell smirked at his wife, fishing out a small white box and presenting it to her. 

“Our son knows his mother wouldn’t be caught dead in anything with gaudy patterns.” He opened the box and she took in the red heart earrings with a smile. 

Which was ultimately ruined by you. 

“Aw, he boujee just like his mama!”

Before either one could snap back at you, a small ding sounded through the kitchen and you moved quickly over to the oven. 

“You know-” Maxwell spoke as he put the earrings on his wife with gentle hands- “We have a chef for a reason.”

You brought out the pan and set it onto the stove, taking in the savory smell with a proud smile. 

“Well, fine then. Go get your cook to make you dinner if you want to complain.”

“Wait. Wait, no that not- that’s not what I meant- I’m starving, please.”

Valerie moved around her husband, taking a bottle of red wine and bumping his hip with hers. “Just set the table Maxwell, we both know how you can make it up to her later. It’s a special day after it all.”

Her husband loosened his tie and grinned at you in a way that made you think he wanted to eat you for dinner instead of the meal you prepared. 

“Lovely idea, darling.”