#gin i don’t know your plans for the fic at all but man i can’t wait to see how you make these idiots get closer

[avenin7]

Doing another reread of @ginneke ‘s fic Seed of Song and it has me all emotional about the end of the last chapter; Gin please let these two have a family cuddle sesh! They need it so bad after that ordeal! A very normal, totally platonic (??) accidental co-parent, post battle, cuddle.

I have to say, if for some unfathomable reason you haven’t read this fic, please do! It’s genuinely so good! It has such good world building and a sense of realism to the environment and characters that I deeply enjoy and appreciate! I’m not typically into in-progress fics but it’s such a treat that I find it so worth it to keep up with it!

(here’s a link to the fic if y’all desire to read it)

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter three

aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn, sexting, alcohol consumption. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

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Hizashi and his (real) wife are exactly the type of people that you want to notice you from across the room. While Hizashi is long and lean, Nemuri is all curves, with a delightfully heart shaped face and wide, thick thighs that you can’t stop yourself from looking at sometimes. Her dark hair is pressed into curls, as deep and as black as her lipstick.

“Do you want a taste?” Nemuri leans in, elbows tucked against her ribcage, pushing her chest up just a bit more. Her dress is sheer enough that you can catch a hint of nipple, dark and pearled up in the cold-

“Uh-?” You rip your eyes away. Two drinks in and you’re already ogling. You’d feel bad about it if the couple didn’t absolutely bask in the attention.

“Of my drink.” Nemuri says, like she knows what she's doing. “Taste my drink.”

“Leave the poor girl alone- Shouta has her all riled up.” Hizashi laughs, wrinkling his nose in delight as he watches the both of you. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol, glasses off kilter one way and smile tilted the opposite. The top five buttons of his business appropriate top are undone, meaning he’s also sporting a bit too much nipple for late afternoon. 

“I was just trying to see that pretty smile,” she pouts, with the almost unobtainable balance of sweet and sexy.  You’re not sure if she’s really this pretty, or if it's rose colored glasses, tinted by your own jealousy.

You take Nemuri's drink and tip it back, swallowing it faster than your brain can process the flavor. It's gin, maybe absinthe: you just know that it burns. Fighting through your gag reflex, you offer a quick grin, one much less wobbly than it was earlier. 

“Aw, there it is!”

Nemuri runs the city’s one and only ‘lifestyle club’: Midnight. From what you've heard, it's a very lux, beautiful venue, filled with torrid amounts of untold debauchery and countless swingers. Technically, the couple started it together- which, now that you’re thinking about it, says a lot about their relationship. They’re the type of couple that’s almost too similar: they're too much, too loud, too nice, too confident. 

 Most of your friends couldn’t leave work midday on a Thursday, so your ‘birthday bash’ is less exciting than Hizashi had originally planned. That’s fine; you didn’t need more than this.

“Are you feeling better?” Hizashi asks softly. The restaurant is quiet, with only a couple of other tables filled. The three of you had chosen a booth in the very back, hidden away from everyone else who wanted a quiet meal; the waiter seems grateful for that. He’s in the opposite corner, checking his phone and waiting for you to finish your drinks before heading back over. Drinking at 3 in the afternoon isn’t usually your style, but you think you deserve it today. It’s a hat trick: breaking up, turning thirty, and getting screamed at. Maybe a meteor will fall from the sky and really add insult to injury.

“No.” You slump into the booth and the room follows suit. “Aizawa's such an asshole.”

The couple gives you identical looks: tiled heads and pressed lips. Both of them are a bit older than you, 37 and 38, but most of the time you don’t feel the gap. Today, however, you do; you feel like a baby, sucking down fruity drinks while moping about. It’s incredibly childish, but you just can’t stop yourself. You want time to be sad.

“He doesn’t mean to be.” Hizashi starts. 

“But he is!” you whine. “I don’t know how you guys are even friends with him.”

“He's different outside of work.” Nemuri says. Shit-talking the man puts them into a strange position, you know that. They have all known each other since college; Aizawa had even gotten Hizashi his current position at the company. It’s strange to think that they are friendly-- let alone close- but you guess they’re both friendly with everyone.  “He's a real kitten in real life.”

You try and imagine the guy without a stick up his ass and can’t. What-- is he doing yoga and petting puppies in his free time? As if. All that blue light has rotted his brain.

“He's just crazy stressed. It makes him act like a bone head.” Hizashi  reasons with a shrug, forever unflappable. His own drink is almost empty, so he gestures for another. “I'm sure he'll apologize tomorrow.” 

The bartender is quick to bring you guys another round. He asks about food, which the couple is quick to order, insisting that everything is their treat. That’s probably a good thing; that half a latte you had for breakfast isn’t doing anything to absorb the alcohol in your system and your stomach is growling. In the meantime, you take the cherry out of your drink and chew on it. You’ll have to savor this drink, just to make sure you don’t get too drunk-

Nemuri leans in conspiratorially. “Was it at least kind of hot?”

“What?”

“Having Shouta scold you.”

What.

“What.”

Hot? Hot?

“What.” you repeat, stressing the vowel.

“He's a handsome guy!” she laughs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Deep voice, kind of domineering-- it didn't… turn you on a little bit?” 

“And you clearly have a thing for assholes-” Hizashi grins, then yelps, shooting his wife a glare. “Ouch, don't kick me!”

Nevermind. You take a long, long sip of your cocktail until your stomach and vision swirl. You need it.

“And he’s hotter than that idiot you were dating- ‘muri, stop kicking me.”

The only time Touya ever came to your work was for a Christmas party. He was very interested to learn that Hizashi and Nemuri's relationship was open and seemingly forgot that your relationship was, in fact, closed. It's been ages since you forgave him, but Mic still hasn’t moved on. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then.” She rolls her eyes, then returns her attention back to you. “He’s right though.”

“Touya is--”  Defending him is reflexive. It's not that Touya isn't attractive, it just happens to be in his own way. Maybe other people would see it if he smiled more or pulled out some piercings. Sure. you had never seen yourself with someone as grungy as him, but... “He’s handsome and kinda charming.”

The energy shifts. Hizashi practically leaps across the table, scooping your hands into his, eyes wide with horror.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking him back,” he begs. Apparently, your face answers for you. because he draws back, horror drawn across his features. “No. No! You're better than this!”

That phrase hits you funny and you remember Aizawa told you the same thing. Better than this-- why does everyone decide that you need better? Why can’t you be okay with… just okay? Mediocrity fits you well. 

“Am I?” you say into the glass edge of your drink. 

“You're miles out of his league. You deserve someone with a full time job, and a savings, and who doesn't habitually cheat-”

“Hizashi, leave her alone.” Nemuri glances his way and he immediately complies, throwing his hands up in surrender. When she returns her attention to you, her expression is kinder. “Don’t do something you regret just because you’re sad. You just need to get back in the saddle and you'll feel way better.”

“Yeah, once you're back at work, things will smooth out,” Hizashi says.

“Work isn’t the saddle- a dick is the saddle,” she corrects. “You just need a crazy hook up.”

It’s not that you don’t like sex. You think it’s perfectly fine. You’re just not in love with it the same way these two are. The whole experience of it all is so exciting and wonderful in theory, but in practice? It’s more awkward moments than orgasms. It doesn’t help that Touya is the only person you’ve ever slept with, since he’s admittedly selfish in that department.

You realize you’ve been silent for a suspiciously long amount of time. “Oh, well, uh-” you try to come up with an excuse. “I dunno how to date-- I’ve been with Touya for years.” 

“Sex isn’t dating.” she insists. “It’s just-- mutual fun and understanding. What’s your type?”

“Dark hair, I guess.” You aren’t really sure. “Are you going to bring me to your club and set me up with someone?”

“No way.” She leans forward on to her elbows again. “It’s a bad environment for a beautiful girl who can't say no.”

You try to imagine yourself being hit on, maybe a man buying you a drink or inviting you on to his lap, and can’t bring yourself to say no. You heave a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“See? You can’t even argue with me. Midnight is the major leagues-- start with the basics. Do you own a vibe?”

You glance over at Hizashi.

“Pretend I’m not here.”  He says, leaning back with a smirk.

“Uh-” You glance between the two, trying to decide how honest you should be. Laughter bubbles out of you that you can’t  quite control. “No?”

Both of them look aghast.

“Finish that drink and get your phone out.” Nemuri demands. “You’re buying yourself a birthday present.”

.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. There’s dinner and drinks and a stroll around town, the bits and blurs of laughter and conversation and the back of Hizashi’s car. By the time you’re dropped off at your apartment building, you’re wobbling on your heels and pleading for the world to stay still. Overindulging isn’t usually your speed, but it’s certainly fun.

 Your key barely makes it into your lock and you stumble in, laughing at the way your oven’s clock flashes at you. 8:00: in college you could have been out all night, but now you’re ready for bed before the good television shows come on.  

The bed is still made from this morning, sheets untouched and pillows unsquished.  

You don't want to sleep alone.

The bathroom calls your name. You're supposed to be washing your face, but you can't rip yourself away from your phone long enough to bother. 

You don't want to sleep alone.

Nemuri was right, you just need to get under someone and you'll feel better. You’re itching for it, needy for touch, desperate for the validation that love affords you. Midnight will be open soon and its only a train ride away, but you aren’t a member and Nemuri made it clear you wouldn’t be getting an exception. You could download a dating app and scroll, but the idea of a stranger entering your life and home feels wrong. It’d be easier to stay with something familiar… someone you know..

AVOID AT ALL COST sits at the top of your contacts, mocking you in all capital letters. Touya. The man who won’t even read your texts. At this point, crawling back to his is ugly and pathetic, but your drunk brain keeps looping back to the idea of sex and love and touch and-

You close your eyes for deniability, then click.

i wish you were here<-

iwnt you so bad right now<-

You cringe at the typo, regret sitting heavy in your belly. Read sits heavy at the corner of the screen, taunting you with your mistake-

Your drunk brain catches up. Read? He… read it? Typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then, they pop up again, typing for an uncomfortably long time. Despite yourself, you get excited, rolling on the balls of your feet and bouncing. Touya is answering you. When you’re starved for affection, even the smallest bits feel like full meals, both saiating you and wetting your mouth for more.

->Are you sure you're texting the right person? 

->I thought you hated me.

You lean against your bathroom sink to steady your hands, giggling and twitting about. 

I wish i hated you lol <-

but i just want you so bad <-

You lean against the sink, watching the little "seen" pop up under your messages. When the typing bubbles don’t immediately appear, you send off another.

 id let you have me <-

 any way you want me <-

You almost stop there, but then you catch your own eye in the mirror. Your outfit is a bit disheveled, your makeup is more than a bit smeared, but you look… good. Just fucked and ready for more. Your dress isn’t low cut enough to be inappropriate for work, but you manage to shimmy it lower, hem pressed just below the curve the lacy edge of your bra. It’s nothing new to him, but it still feels dirty, illicit enough to steal your breath away.

The response is instant.

->God. How are you so…

->Don't tease me if you don't mean it. 

Oh, you’ll tease him alright. You’re going to tempt this man away from wherever he is and back into your bed. You pull your skirt up this time, hiking it all of the way up your thighs until just a hint of your skin toned undies are on display. With the camera just slightly out of focus, it really looks like you've shown him a sliver of cunt.

->Fuck. 

->You're right. I want you. 

->I’ve always wanted you. 

You giddily skip to your room, tossing yourself on your bed. You should really shower first, but your body is hot and primed; your hand is already sliding down, the heel of your palm grinding against your needy core.  You need something to touch you, you need the friction of someone else. There’s a vibrator in your amazon cart, but you can’t wait for 2 day shipping.

For now, the edge of a pillow will have to do. You bunch it below you and rock your hips, searching for that perfect angle that will-

More texts come through.

->I've always thought about fucking you against your desk after everyone else has left. Those stupid slippers over my shoulders. Your lips on mine.

-> I know you taste sweet. All over.

A shiver turns through you. Yes, you need to be tasted, you need his teeth in your neck and his spit on your tits-

are you jacking off right now? <-

There’s a gap. Maybe you've pressed too far.

->Yes. 

I wish my hands were as soft as yours.

 lemme see <-

You expect the messages to dry up there. Touya likes the chase, not the follow through. You put your phone down and shift your weight more, trying to focus on rolling your hips just right. A pressure is building inside you, one that’s warm and fuzzy and rolling into your chest and down into your cunt. Your eyes close and you chase that high.

A message comes through.

A video message.

You scramble to press play, hips rolling against your pillow on their own, searching for friction. 

A barely there moan hits you first.

The video is dark and grainy, but you can make out the shape of his cock, heavy against his thick thigh. His pubes have grown out, a dark patch of hair that trails up his soft stomach and out of frame. You can see every breath he pulls, stomach constricting and expanding. The hand that isn't holding the camera is looped around the base of his cock, squeezing gently before slowly stroking the length. His fingers are slick with lube or precum and they glide over his length, earning you another growl of a moan.

Chills run through your body. Fuck. Holy fuck. He must really miss you. He's throbbing for you and you swear he's bigger than ever. It must be the angle and your drunk mind, but he looks huge.

never shave ever again ok I love how manly it looks <-

and fuck your voice is so hot I almost came from that alone <-

->Are you touching yourself?

yes<-

->Show me.

Embarrassment suddenly hits you. Touya always told you that men were visual creatures and rutting against a pillow like an animal isn’t the ‘porn pretty’ pictures he expects. Usually, you’d comply and pose how you know he likes it, but the room is off kilter and your body is heavy. Besides, Nemuri and Hizashi were right-- an orgasm would fix you. You need to keep going right now or else your stomach’s going to cramp.

i’m embarrassed <-

It’s mostly the truth. You would understand if he stopped texting you after that, but a response comes quickly. 

That’s okay. <-

Tell me about it? <-

Your heart thumps. Then, again. That shouldn’t be hot. 

->i'm humping my pillow and wishing it was you

My leg or my cock? <-

Fuck. When did he get good at this?

->whatever you'll give me

Ride my thigh and we'll see what you deserve.<-

God, it's just words, but you feel electric. When did he get good at this? The heat in your core feels like it's going to consume your whole body and you can't help but to continue to stroke it; you squeeze your thighs and tilt your hips over and over again, thinking about that wide thigh and his manly, big hands. God, you should be texting back, but you're just-- just--

Your orgasm hits you way quicker than usual. It's one that hits you all at once, straightening your back and stealing your breath and just tickling every inch of your core. It's all consuming and followed by the creamy feeling bliss that you so desperately needed. As you  flop forward and sink into your mattress, sleep nipping at your heels, you gather yourself enough to send one final picture.

You collect your cum in your fingers and scissor them back and forth, letting the wetness web in between. When you lift your hand, it catches in the overhead light, clear and lovely and all for him. The photo you take is a bit out of focus, exhaustion settling into your bones, but it’s very clear when you’re showing.

-> next time you make me cum ebtter be in person

-

The next morning you wake up to a pounding headache and fuzzy teeth, but your body feels good. There’s something looser, lighter, inside you, like you’ve relaxed for the first time in forever.  You can’t even bring yourself to care that your phone is dead or that you’re running a bit late to work. It’s awful to admit, but Nemuri was right- an orgasm really did fix you. Maybe that’s why the two of them are always so chipper; they’re definitely fucking like rabbits.

You plug in your phone and get ready for the day. Three ibuprofen and a shower mostly fix your headache and a very thorough brushing fixes everything else. Your toothbrush still sits next to Touya’s, seemingly the only thing in the apartment he forgot to take, but today that doesn’t fill you with dread. Things, finally, are good again. Pretty words have soothed all of your wounds and you’re just waiting for him to come back home to you.

It’s all you can think about as you get dressed. You slip into something black-- Touya’s favorite-- and put on those special red heels again, even though your instep is rubbed raw.

You're almost out the door when you remember your phone. You scramble back to your bedroom and start it up as you head out the door. The screen boots up and messages start inching their way in. A couple from friends, apps, and-

Hm. That’s. 

A name that you don’t expect pops up. Aizawa Shouta sits at the top of your direct messages, five messages sent through. Yesterday, you’d probably think you were losing your job or the world was ending, but today you can take it in stride. Hizashi was right; the man is already trying to apologize! You open the message and smugly prepare for the groveling-

-> I bet you looked so pretty when you came.

[impactedfates]

helloo, jing yuan visiting dan heng/feng’s kid in the shackling prison? like the poor kid is scared terrified even considering they didnt get the best treatment there, but the general tries comforting them so yeah a platonic hurt/comfort scenerio

(kinda inspired by this amazing fanart: https://www.tumblr.com/gin-uzumaki/729265014524002304/the-general-was-vainly-searching-for-the-shadow )

A/N: Hello!! I'm assuming the kid is the reader? I've written it this way anyways haha. I decided this would be a prequel to this dan heng fic!! I hope that's alright anon :)) JY visiting the kid after finding out they got wrongfully imprisoned in the shackling prison

Genre/Trope: Platonic + Hurt/Comfort

Format: Fic (W.C: 1589)

Warnings: Wrongful Imprisonment // Hints at torture/abuse towards reader

Extra: Kid reader, so shorter then Jing Yuan // Uncle Jing Yuan :D

"Safe With Me" - Platonic Jing Yuan x Child! Reader

Everyday would be the same for you. The same routine, you would wake up to the sounds of Cloud Knights shaking you awake roughly, they’d reluctantly feed you before leaving you chained up. Hours later they’d come back again for lunch and again for dinner. Then you’d soon pass out for sleep. And more then once, would they come back in between to ensure you ‘learnt your lesson’. What they meant by that? You weren’t completely sure.

Every single day this would happen, and you wished with every fibre in your body that something would change. That you could leave. That the Cloud Knights, the same ones from each day, the ones that always came to merely ensure you wouldn’t die, yet with how your body was decorated in wounds and bruises, they didn’t seem to care that much anyways…you hoped that even so, they would let you go. But living for so long, having been forced to drink that rotten potion that stopped your ageing just to punish you with something you don’t even know about. You weren’t sure if the day you could finally see the sun once again would happen.

Footsteps could be heard, walking in your direction, different footsteps, not the ones from the Knights that would usually come. Unrecognisable footsteps, the door to your cell opened and a pair of gold eyes soon met your own eyes.

He slowly walked in, keeping a distance from you, yet even so you moved back instantly. Looking him up and down, although the strange man didn’t wear the usual uniform of the Cloud Knights, you had no reason to trust him, no reason at all.

What if he was here to hurt you?

What if he was here to shove the disgusting food in your mouth instead?

What if-

“Are you okay?”

You looked over to him, your eyes which have previously been shut tightly to braise for whatever he was planning opened slowly as you looked at him, still he kept his distance to not startle you.

“Are you okay?”

He repeats, a small smile on his lips before his eyes looked at the chains around your body, slightly glaring…but not at you. His eyes landed on your form, almost softening instantly. You shake your head at his question and ask one yourself.

“...W-who are you?”

“You can call me Jing Yuan…the…General of the Cloud Knights”

He did not fail to notice you flinching away from him as he spoke about his title, he raised his arms in surrender and slowly walked closer. Despite everything, despite being chained to one small area, you tried your best to move away from him, the chains clashing against each other as they stopped you from going any further.

“...I’m not going to hurt you, I promise…can you trust me?”

“H-how do I know y-you’re not lying”

“You can’t…so I’m asking you to please trust me…the Cloud Knights who did this to you have already been dealt with accordingly”

You looked away from him, slightly shaking. You didn’t want to trust him, you weren’t sure if he was telling the truth. But you knew that if you refused, if he was anything like the people who threw you in here, you’d get hurt more. So despite everything you nodded, and closed your eyes. Getting ready for whatever the white haired man had planned.

What you weren’t prepared for however, was the feeling of your arms, your body, your legs. To no longer feel strained due to the chains, the sounds of a key clicking and the sounds of metal echoing through the chamber as metal crashed into each other gently.

You opened your eyes and they widened a bit, seeing you have been freed from the chains, looking up. Jing Yuan stared back with a kind smile and keys in hand. He reached behind him and pulled something out, almost on instinct, you moved back and raised an arm to protect yourself, but nothing happened.

“It’s okay…I just want to offer you a proper hot meal…well snack maybe is the better term for this”

He speaks, gently pushing over a wooden steamer towards you before calmly moving back. Allowing you to slowly open the lid, letting the smell of xiaolongbao infiltrate your nose, your mouth watered, looking up at Jing Yuan unsure if you were even allowed to eat something like this. With a nod of his head, you quickly dug in.

The xiaolongbao was the right temperature, not hot enough to burn your mouth yet still warm. After you finished, you looked back up to Jing Yuan who stared back, his hands behind his back as he carefully watched you with gentle eyes.

“...May I come closer?”

He asked, tilting his head. You nodded slowly, still backing up to the wall and resting you back on the wall, he walked over slowly, picking up the wooden steamer and putting it away again. Before sitting next to you.

“...The Cloud Knights filled me in on what happened, but I have a feeling they didn’t tell me the full story…if you don’t mind looking into the past, will you tell me your side?”

You looked over to him and with a hesitant nod, you started telling him what happened. How when you saw your father getting banished away, you quickly ran elsewhere, how a Cloud Knight must’ve spotted you and chased you down. The next thing you knew was being forced in the chamber the two of you sat in currently and how you were chained up.

You even told him the mistreatment that occurred and the potion you were made to drink to stop yourself from ageing. You weren’t sure why you were made to drink the potion, perhaps it was because you would feel more pain with everything that happened. Whatever the case, you were in tears as you finished.

Jing Yuan instantly took note of this and was quick to gently clean away any tears. He wanted to hug you and comfort you, but he knew that with everything that you went through, you may not trust him. 

He understands.

He simply tried to comfort you in mere words, and eventually it worked. As you calmed down. Gripping onto the dirty cloth you were wearing you looked back at the man who had been the one who gave you the change you were looking for.

“...Mr General?”

“Yes?”

“...What’s going to happen now?”

You ask, looking at him. He hummed in response and stood up, offering a hand for you to take, which you did. Slowly standing up and using his arm as support as your legs still felt wobbly.

“First, I’m taking you to get cleaned up and a proper meal. I already gave you some xiaolongbao to eat, but I think you’d enjoy something more filling”

He starts, walking out of the chamber with you and out of the prison, the sun hitting your face instantly as you stepped outside the prison. You looked up, eyes squinting as the brightsun burned your eyes and yet, it was beautiful. Jing Yuan continued.

“Then, we’ll take a trip to the alchemy commission so they can figure out how to reverse the effects of the ageing potion you took. You’ll stay with me for a bit…until you’re ready to meet your dad…your dads reincarnation I should say”

He mumbles the last part, inaudible to you. Your eyes looked towards him as you thought about his words. Clinging onto his arm a bit tighter.

“...You promise you’re not like the mean guys who took me?”

“I promise, and those mean guys will get rightfully punished for their crimes…you’re safe with me don’t worry”

He nods, smiling down at you. And he did in fact keep his promise. He stayed true to his word, you got a set of new clothes and was able to eat a full meal. All paid for by the general (discounted due to his title) and the alchemy commission, in request to Jing Yuan, managed to make an antidote to have you age normally again. To continue growing up like any other kid.

.

.

.

.

.

One night when he was off from work, he came to see you. He couldn’t adopt you, he knew you’d need someone who’d be home more often than he could. But even so, even if he was only temporarily your guardian, he’s so happy to see you change for the better, to see a smile on your face more often than a frown or a scared one.

“How are you, little one?”

He called softly, standing next to you as you drew him, yourself and Yanqing. His smile softened even more as he saw this.

“I’m good!”

“That’s good”

“...Uncle Jing Yuan?”

“Yes?”

“...I think I’m ready to meet my dad now”

You spoke, looking up from the paper to him, Jing Yuan looked back and nodded, patting your head.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes”

“Then get yourself packed up, and you can meet him tomorrow”

With a nod from both yourself and him, he helped you get ready to meet your father. You truly were safe with him for the time you spent with him, and now he’s entrusting that you’d be safe with your father.

With Dan Heng.

With the express.

And he hoped that as the years go on, you’ll continue to smile as you do. And if the time comes when Dan Heng needs a babysitter? You’ll always be welcome with him. You’ll always be safe with him.

Jing Yuan :D Love him sm, he'd honestly be such a good dad, have you seen how he is with Yanqing?? Father son duo istg. I decided to make the reader see Jing Yuan as their uncle cuz I think it was cute :>>

Feel like I missed some warnings, so if you catch anything I missed please tell me!! (I'm always worried if I miss warnings RAEIOFN)

[ronearoundblindly]

Time and Tines (1/3)

Plans (see series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader for @sweeterthanthis's Bittersweet Symphony Writing Challenge

Can’t change the way we are, One kiss away from killing. —Bishop Briggs, River

Summary: Steve meets the mysterious woman staring at him from across the room.

Warnings for vague injuries, mention of needles, manipulation/brainwashing, SEMI-DARK fic (like I've read worse but it ain't sunny, folks). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. This work has heavy themes unsuitable for minors. There is plenty else to read on my Light Masterlist if this is not your cup of tea! WC 3.6k

The event isn’t overly loud, but the lights are lower and he is surrounded by people. Steve isn’t fond of crowds, not when he’s not working, not when the event is actually meant to be fun for him. He isn’t Captain America right now. He isn’t the center of attention. He isn’t bothering to mingle. Instead, he’s chosen to humor a long-winded medical rant from the Avenger’s resident doctor of the past half-year.

Salvatore Avani enlightens Steve on several ways he can assess and replicate Erskine’s serum without taking a drop of any super soldier’s blood. It would be an interesting project if Steve hadn’t heard it all before, over and over, from every hopeful doctor and scientist to cross his path. At least Steve gets to be out of his suit for a while and…in another suit, though this one is significantly more forgiving to his stance and skin.

“You see, Captain, your strength can be wielded for so much more than fighting. It could give safety and security to people working unmechanizable jobs,” Dr. Avani points out.

“Not sure that’s a word, sir, but I understand.” Steve swirls whisky around in his tumbler, ice long melted, and wishes—not for the first time—that alcohol still had an effect on him. “A certain amount of modernization does protect those same workers from danger…and no one had to be dosed with anything,” he concludes before emptying the glass in hand.

As Avani opens his mouth to retort, a weight lands on Steve’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Doc,” Bucky interrupts, “just a quick word.”

“Of course, gentlemen.” The doctor turns back around to the bar to order himself another cocktail.

Bucky leans to whisper in Steve’s ear.

“So, punk, we got a situation at three o’clock.”

His whole body tenses, which doesn’t look all that different because Steve has excellent posture, but he deposits the finished glass on the counter and looks over his right shoulder past his friend.

Eyes. Intense and focused eyes meet his before darting down. A few people meander in the space between but you’re all Steve can see for a long moment.

“There it is,” Bucky mutters in recognition.

“Did you just make me look at a dame across the room?” Steve runs a hand over his freshly shaven law and hisses. “Jerk.”

“Uh, that dame’s been staring at you for a solid twenty minutes, but you weren’t noticing. You’re welcome.”

Steve lowers his head, suppressing a grin as best he can and glancing again to his right.

You’ve turned away. You’re fiddling with a glass of clear, bubbly liquid. Vodka soda? Gin and tonic? Those are Steve’s first guesses, but he can’t tell which since both lemon and lime wedges float above the ice.

“Two of whatever she is having,” Bucky asks the bartender helpfully, clapping a pat of encouragement on Steve’s back.

The man behind the bar gives a quizzical look and then shrugs.

Buck winks at him as Steve heads for your high-top table. No one else stands around you. No rings on the hand beside your drink. No way you don’t know he’s coming over even with your eyes down.

“Hi, mind if I join you?”

You smile without looking up. “Only if you brought gifts.” Your voice is small, a little shyer than Steve would expect from someone brazen enough to watch him that long from afar, but he sets his offering on the table anyway.

“I do,” he replies softly, matching your tone, “although what it is is a mystery to me.”

Still smiling, you drain your original glass quickly and confess, “Sierra Mist.”

Steve sucks air through pearly white teeth. “Yikes. More of a 7-Up man myself.”

“Go figure. Captain America has brand loyalty.”

He fails to stop the burst of laughter punched from his chest. It doesn’t scare you though. He’s actually pleased it seems to relax you. He sets his own hand on the table approximately an inch from yours. 

“Touché.”

A faint tremor rolls through that hand but stops after you make a fist and release it.

Steve just starts saying random things that come to mind, and shockingly, it works.

Conversation flows for while as he notices that your dress straps don’t stay put very well and there is a barely visible seam at your hairline. Why you would need to wear a wig, he has no idea. He finds himself almost compelled to say your natural hair is perfect, just like you.

And this is why Steve doesn’t let himself out much.

During one comment regarding the other guests, he sneaks a peek over at Bucky—still beside Avani—and is flashed a thumbs up which he immediately hopes you did not see.

Chatting continues.

Steve isn’t a good flirt, but it seems he’s getting lucky with little lines tonight. He’s willing to push his luck.

“Well, after all this sweetness, maybe we should dance off some energy.” Yet sugar, like alcohol, has no discernible effect on Steve Rogers.

“Oh, no. That’s not necessary. I’m a miserable dancer.” You lift your bejeweled clutch up alongside your lemon-lime soda. “Besides how would I carry it all?”

“Well, if they’d make dresses with fuller skirts like they used to,” Steve teases, pushing his half-full glass aside, “you wouldn’t have that problem. The world regressed that way. Real shame.”

“Not a fan of form-fitting gowns?” you cock your head with wide eyes.

Steve’s gaze snaps to his shoes, hoping to choke off the heat rising in his cheeks. It only chokes his words. “Oh, oh god, no. They’re lovely. I meant, ya know, pockets and…I just—I didn’t want anything to stop you.“

“Me neither.”

You take him in with warm assessment and one last evaluation of the room, tucking your lip between your teeth briefly. “You’re in luck,” you add with a laugh. “I’m about to blow your mind, Captain.”

He watches you open the clasp, fish around inside the tiny bag—barely an envelope, really, but Steve learned from Natasha that ladies can hold a scary amount in those things,— and pull out a silvery length like a party trick from the minuscule confines. The new strap allows you to toss the purse over your shoulder.

You present the transformation like it’s a superpower.

“Nifty,” Steve coos.

You nod an acceptance of his awe. “I am nothing if not prepared.”

“And now—“ he offers his hand again “—out of excuses. Bucky tells me I am ‘a sight to behold’ and not in a good way. Shall we prove him right in solidarity?”

You head to the open floor, guided by Steve’s lead. “Not gonna try to prove him wrong?”

He swings you around to face him. “How would I always win as Cap if I bet like that?”

You hum while Steve settles a hand over the satin at your waist. “Picking your battles, huh?” Free and delicate hands land at his shoulders before one smooths down his sleeve, your eyes never leaving his. “And I’m a fight waiting to happen?”

He gets lost for a few bars until he shows his true colors and winces.

“Well, my toes are fighting with yours, clearly.” 

But you simply laugh.

Steve’s brain turns over the steps and his apologies and then finally lands on a good line way after the fact. “Or, no, wait, I’ve got it now.” He squares his shoulders a little more and deepens his voice, comically.

“You’re worth fighting for.”

The snort huffed in his face is perfect, the grin that splits your painted lips over shiny white teeth blinding and well worth his efforts.

“Oh wow. See!” He earns a featherlight slap to the chest. “You do have your charming moments, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve, please—“ he fakes leading you off the floor “—and could we go repeat that in front of—“

“—the extremely grumpy man gripping a beer bottle?” Your sights land across the room toward the bar. “I don’t know, Steve. Your critic looks pretty…something.”

Steve frowns when he sees Bucky. As his friend speaks with Dr. Avani, Bucky’s face pinches solid as stone, overly serious beside the doctor’s casual body language. Buck indeed looks pissed for no reason. 

Steve squints in apology. “He’s not—that’s just—I promise he’s not like that—“

Where’s that teasing joy from a minute ago?

He contemplates that still when your hands release him, and his focus snaps back.

“I need to use the ladies’ room anyway,” you shrug, rubbing a palm up and down your bare arm.

“And then fireworks?” Steve inserts hopefully, almost removing his suit jacket right then to drape over your shoulders. He sounds like an excited schoolboy, and he’s again glad that Bucky is far enough away not to know how obvious he’s being.

You smile, a graceful tug at the dark, matte lipstick sculpted over your full—Rogers. Then a little nod is all you offer before turning to the hall, bag bouncing at your hip on its magic chain.

Steve watches you go, meandering over to Bucky while glancing in your last known direction, until his friend grunts to get his attention.

Avani is gone, but Buck’s face remains sour.

“What on earth did Doc say? Some intel for a mission?” Steve’s only half-curious and fully-distracted though.

His friend just waves off the mood. “Where’s your girl?”

“She’s not…” Steve shakes his head.

“Fine. Where’s your girl for the night?” Bucky raises one eyebrow.

“You know that sounds even worse now than it did back then, right?”

“Well?” Bucky looks around inquisitively.

“Powder her nose—” Steve smirks with rosy cheeks “—then watching the light show.”

He gets a solid smack between his shoulders and a proud nod.

Steve tries to remain patient, he really does, but after a few minutes and nearly every guest settled into their own viewing spot across the long balcony, he checks back over his shoulder.

Nothing.

He excuses himself from Bucky’s side and wanders toward the hallway.

Yes, he knows he’ll look too interested and a bit stalker-esque, but he doesn’t want to miss the show—he doesn’t want you to miss the show with him. There’s gonna be this beautiful display in the sky and you’ll be engrossed enough that he can just look at the changing colors glow across your…

What?!

Around one corner of the wall, Steve sees a foot, one shiny, brown men’s dress shoe, and then another. Someone’s kneeling—shaking if rolling toes are any indication—and then there you are standing over him.

“Doctor Avani?” Steve croaks, watching you raise a syringe and needle high over the man’s head.

You ignore Steve’s arrival.

The doctor’s eyes don’t break from you as he shrieks, “Captain, she’s mad. She—“

“How dare you? Bastard,” you bite out, heaving your weapon at the doctor’s exposed throat as Steve lunges forward.

It punctures the thick, luxurious navy fabric of Steve’s suit, and he feels the slight swelling pressure of liquid entering his forearm.

You release your grip, eyes wild and teeth bared. Gone is the sweet and serene woman with whom he shared a drink and danced.

The syringe stays lodged in Steve’s flesh as he pushes the doctor aside to shield him, but it’s too late for you.

Bucky followed behind him and now wraps your arms behind your back while you struggle to inch toward Avani, spitting insults.

“What was it?” Bucky demands. “What’s in there? What poison?”

Steve rips the needle out, checking it for any clues.

With a scowl, your fierce gaze stays on the doctor.

“Ask him. It’s his brand of suffering.”

Steve watches behind the two-way mirror for a while, deciding how to approach you. After chatting with you for the better part of an hour at the event, he still knows absolutely nothing about you. Every single piece of your preliminary file is news to him. He has to start from scratch, which is, ironically, what you are trying to do to the seam of your wig when he finally enters the interrogation room.

“Tea or water?” Steve sets down the cups.

You stop fidgeting for a beat. “Water is fine. Thank you.”

Polite. You stabbed him with a needle, injected him with an unknown substance, and you’re polite about it? He doesn’t understand the nonchalance. If you meant to kill Dr. Avani, then why aren’t you upset that you failed?

With your hands cuffed and the chain laced through a handlebar built into the table, it’s an awkward strain on your neck. You shove your shoulder high and pulse your head back and forth. Your wrists are thin, thin enough that one good, hard pull might actually snap one.

Polite and uncomfortable. Steve figures showing some courtesy might loosen your tongue.

He unlocks the cuffs and places the water in easy reach, keeping the tea for himself.

He sits and you sip. It’s peaceful when it shouldn’t be.

Avani has no clue who you are or what you want, but Steve couldn’t get many answers during the chaos that ensued after your attack. His own heart rate skyrocketed for a few minutes before normalizing. Otherwise, he’s fine.

He tilts the tea in your direction.

“Here’s hoping you didn’t waste truth serum on me,” he cheers. “Might be the only drug completely useless both after and before Erskine’s formula.”

You’re amused, a smirk lifting fading, dark lips. “Ah yes. Good, honest Captain America.”

“To a fault.”

“No.” Your seriousness stops him cold, and Steve’s smile fades. “It’s not a fault. You’re just rare.”

You value honesty. He can work with that.

“Is that why you chose a drug specifically for the doctor? You didn’t want to harm anyone else, even by accident?”

That shuts you down instead. Steve’s jumped too far, too fast. He’s not allowed to use the same easy tone as before this mess. Maybe he should have found some 7Up…

Silence descends until broken by your heavy swallows of water.

You’re staring down at your reflection in the table’s surface.

“I love stainless steel,” you mutter to no one in particular. “It’s like diffusion. I almost look normal.”

“You mean because you look different?” Steve pulls out your ID found in that small purse. “Why don’t you look ‘normal?’”

You shrug, finally dislodging the precarious strap and it dangles down your arm. “Lost weight.”

“And the hair?”

He was right. Your natural hair in the photo is beautiful. Why the hell are you wearing a wig? If it were obscuring your identity, he imagines you would know not to carry around a real ID.

“Time” is your only answer.

You’re skirting around the truth, lying by omission, waiting for the exact right questions which Steve doesn’t know yet, so he asks something for peace of mind, something that will tell him how long to play this game. “Are you gonna be honest with me?”

Your answer comes easily enough. “Are you gonna be helpful to me?”

Simple. Straightforward. Cutting. It’s said with sorrowful eyes.

He can’t promise anything when he doesn’t know why. “If your purpose is to kill a man then, no, I can’t help you with that.”

Your empty cup lands on the table with a light tonk.

“Maybe I’ll wait until someone who can help walks through that door.”

“In this situation, I believe I’m what’s known as the ‘good cop,’” Steve sighs. “Don’t think you want to dance with the ‘bad cop.’ He’s pretty annoyed he didn’t peg you for an assailant first.”

Nothing about your demeanor changes, not a flinch, not a blink. “Good thing I don’t want to dance with him.”

“He’s not much of a talker either. I’d be a better—“

“I didn’t say I’d talk to him either.”

Steve leans on his elbows, splaying wide across the table. “Just tell me your story. I am here to listen.”

“That makes this sound like a first date.”

“Bucky would likely agree—“ he snorts “—and he’d make a point to say this is going about as well as any date I’ve been on this century. Please,” Steve tries again, “ talk to me.”

There’s a long pause. Your intense gaze remains steady. Whatever your reasons, they don’t strain your moral fortitude. You are a believer, faithful to this unknown cause.

Carefully, quietly, you respond. “It’s not my story to tell. Ask your doctor.”

“If it’s not your story, where are the others? Can they tell it? Are they alive?”

Steve is more perceptive than you counted on judging by your slight head shake.

You flop yourself backward in the seat.

Steve was right. It’s not a what you act for, it’s a who. And they are dead.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says earnestly.

This—that simple sentiment—gets the greatest reaction so far. Your lip twitches, and you shimmy against the hard chair. You scratch at your wig again, before your focus returns to the table. There are tears welling in your eyes.

No one has said that before now, he realizes. How long has it been since they passed? Why are you the only mourner? Why aren’t you moving on?

Suddenly, irritation stirs in Steve, and he can’t believe how stubborn you’re being when he is your best option. He is the only one that will have this soft spot for you, the only one who truly wants to help because he truly wants to know why.

“So you’re avenging,” he bursts, tossing his arms out, dramatically looking around the bland room. 

Protocol dictated they take you to the nearest precinct for questioning. Only if you were enhanced, only if you had special abilities would you be transported all the way to the compound. So on his night off, while attending a party that actually entertained him for once, you’ve shown up with a syringe that doesn’t do anything and made him miss the fireworks. You’ve made him lose time being content, a rare gift in his line of work.

Steve is frustrated, to say the least. He stands to pace his side of the table.

“Avenging, huh? Gosh, I wish I knew anything about that… anyone in this building even… wherever will we find someone who understands?”

“You don’t do sarcasm very much, do you?” you snip, energy level remaining low compared to his spiked bluster. “I’d like to tell ‘bad cop’ what a terrible dancer you are now. He’s not going to be surprised you made me cry, is he? That’s probably normal, too.”

“Surprised? No.” Steve knocks on the mirror, sick of playing, sick of being wrong, sick of choosing unwisely. “How could he be when he’s been listening this whole time?” 

You’re trapped, but you aren’t acting like a caged animal. Something is…off, and Steve realizes he’s too close to the situation—ridiculous as that may be—after just two hours of knowing you. His best friend will have better luck.

Bucky opens the door a few seconds later, armed to the teeth as an intimidation tactic.

It’s disconcerting that your expression brightens once a man sporting three guns and—counting the hidden few—eight knives enters the room. That’s got Steve’s attention.

“So she’s giving you trouble?” Bucky mutters.

He’s grateful Buck doesn’t go the ‘you sure can pick ‘em, Rogers’ or ‘better luck next millennium’ route. Steve shakes his head.

You itch at your wig, face twisted, and glance up at Steve.

“May I take this off?”

Still polite. The niceties are actually making his blood boil at this point because he does not get it yet.

“Fine,” he snaps, rolling his eyes when Bucky purses his lips at Steve’s tone.

“Listen, doll, I think the best course of action is to let you stew in here for a while. When you’re ready to tell us what you know, then—“

“Oh, I can tell you what I know now,” you say casually, pulling out bobby pin after bobby pin to tuck between your teeth. “I know the protocol for a low-level threat like myself is the nearest local law enforcement facility, I know that—due to an unfortunate instance of food poisoning from a birthday cake earlier today—most of this precinct is empty. I know that all three of you would prefer to incapacitate your targets rather than kill them.”

You set the little pile of pins down on the table by your undone chain, pulling a hair comb from the back of your wig to finally release it.

“There’s only two of us here,” Steve says in confusion.

“No.” You point the forked hair comb at Bucky and push yourself out of the chair. “Winter’s in there.”

Before the words can even register, you slam the tines of the tuning fork against the edge of the steel table. The noise is piercing and specific.

Steve covers his ears, but Bucky doesn’t move. He can’t turn away from you.

“Restrain him,” you order, “and get me out of here.”

“Buck, wait—“

The vibranium arm threatens to crush Steve’s windpipe as the force slides him up the mirrored wall.

The Winter Soldier’s cold, vacant grey eyes watch as Steve’s vision fades to black, and Steve wonders how the hell he could be so wrong.

Then it’s quiet and he wonders no more.

A/N: This story is a doozy, gang, but I promise, explanations are ahead!

[Next Part]

Taglist (please let me know if you want added or removed): @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @darsynia

[Main Masterlist]

[sitp-recs]

Very late on this but following tradition here’s a birthday rec post to celebrate our kind, brilliant and inimitable @lqtraintracks! It’s not a secret that I’ve loved LQT’s works for over a decade and am beyond grateful for everything they’ve done for the fandom, for Drarry, and for my fave rare pair. I love using any excuse to rec LQT but after many lists and recs it was a challenge to come up with something I hadn’t done before. Since they’re impressively prolific (how lucky are we?!) I thought of bringing together new gems recently posted and beloved old faves, Drarry and rare pair galore as it should be! So come and feast on another self-indulgent and slutty Liv list, my specialty 😌 Thank you my friend for being a steady, joyful, welcoming presence in the fandom, for gracing us with so many brilliant reads, for introducing me to my favorite rare pair (my whole heart belongs to your Hardy) and for bringing to life the perfect Teddy Lupin - your characterization remains my ultimate headcanon for him even after all these years. I hope you’ve had an incredible day!!! 💜

5 new rare pair fics to read:

🚗 destination unknown (M, 1.2k) - Teddy/James

They’re taking a trip together; they’re falling in love, or already there.

🧨 ballroom, close hold: five, six, seven, eight (E, 1.4k) - Fred/George

If there are two things that don’t go together, it’s sex pollen and going into heat. Or maybe they do go together and it’s just a matter of perspective.

📷 collarbones like a bow, skin an arrow to the heart (E, 4k) - Ginny/Pansy

Gin’s adjusting the lighting for their next shoot when in walks the new model Luna was so enthusiastic about, and that’s when they know they’re in deep shit.

🧹 Like Love Itself (E, 5k) - Albus/James

Albus has spent his whole life chasing after James. It never occurred to him James might want to be caught.

🐾 Eyes Gone Golden Like Coins (E, 5k) - Harry/Teddy

“Wish I could knot you,” I hear myself say. His eyes flash golden, like Galleons fresh from the Gringotts mint. When we’ve finished and we’re lying all tangled up, he asks softly. “You can… can’t you?”

5 Drarry faves to reread:

💔 A Pain of Our Choosing (E, 6k)

It’s 8th year and everyone’s still a bit messed up. Harry and Draco fall into being messed up together.

🎯 check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous (E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

🎁 Touch Me Fall (E, 23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

🐉 Blood and Fire (E, 45k)

Harry has spent the last twelve years in Romania, not returning to England as often as he knows he should. It's complicated. But when Ginny asks him to be her best man and help her plan her wedding, he can't say no. Having a reckoning with his choices, with himself, won't be easy. To say nothing of seeing Draco again.

🎲 Right Hand Red (E, 73k)

Harry felt Malfoy's breath on his lips as they came together over the bottle, hands firmly planted on the floor as though they each needed their familiar soil, refusing to cross into enemy territory. Except that Malfoy no longer felt like his enemy. Malfoy felt inevitable.

Bonus: Liv’s angsty PWP picks 🔥

🥃 Afterimage (1.7k) - Ginny/Ron

Ron comes home drunk (again); Ginny takes care of him. Again.

🌙 Beneath a Foreign Moon (2.7k) - Harry/Teddy

Harry visits Teddy in the middle of the night.

🪞 Slip Free of My Grasp (3.4k) - Harry/Sirius

I don't want to be bad for him. I want to do bad things and still be, somehow, inexplicably, good.

👠 Rogue Waves (6.5k) - Ginny/Pansy

A story of living with the trauma, fucking who you want, and maybe finding a little solace.

🎸 like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered (11k) - Teddy/Bill, Teddy/James

Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit. Everyone's out to support him tonight. Including the man he's always tried so hard not to love -- as well as the man he's always turned to instead.

[aarcanechaoss]

Hey :)

So i saw that you did a fic where Higuchi is caught by the mafia.Can you do another one like that but with a different prompt?

Like where there's a joint PM & ADA outing but Higuchi cant attend cause she promised her sister they'll go to the carnival on that day.But councidentally the PM & ADA also go to the carnival and they see Higuchi.

And if you want you can add in how Higuchi was wearing an open back top so you can see a tatto there and the PM is surprised cause they didn't think Higuchi has tattos

Sry for it being so long😭

Don’t be sorry this is wonderful!

Also here’s a link for the tattoo a cherry blossom to match my Yamizakura theory lmao

A joint outing. What a tiresome idea yet brilliant all the same. Ever since the Guild the Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia had been… trying more or less to work together when needed. And perhaps it was just some big plan for a means to an end but either way it at least kept the two companies busy.

Ichiyo Higuchi would not be attending this month’s gathering. Hell she was hardly invited to any of the Port Mafia’s normal gatherings so she really doubted they would bother to invite her to wherever it is they are going. Regardless she had plans, the carnival was in town and being the best big sister in the world that she is she promised she’d take Kuniko with her to the Carnival.

She didn’t know nor did she care about asking where the Port Mafia and Armed Detective Agency would be… but perhaps she should have.

~~*~~*~~*~~

“Come on Chiyo I want to check out the rides!” Her little sister whined playfully. The fifteen year old was practically vibrating from excitement as they exited the car. With her crutch held tight Kuniko waddled towards her big sister and practically dragged her into the Carnival itself.

It was a hot day and Ichiyo was thankful she let her sister pick her outfit today, with both girls pretty much matching. Black shorts and red shirts with their comfiest sneakers. Kuniko wore an old worn T-shirt with an English phrase that had Ichiyo chuckling every time she saw it (“what the duck” being the hilarious catchphrase with a cute little duck sitting right below it). Ichiyo however wore a red backless halter top with her cherry blossom tattoo on full display at Kuniko’s request.

Kuniko loved the image of a cherry blossom branch creeping its way up Ichiyo’s spine, with flowers and petals delicately floating about. It was so her sister it made her giddy because it was a well-known fact she loved the tree at the Higuchi home so why wouldn’t she have a tattoo.

Ichiyo loved seeing her sister happy. It reminded her that life was worth it and could still be joyful. She loves her little sister so damn much- she can understand why Akutagawa feels so protective towards Gin because she’s the exact same.

Kuniko would practically drag Ichiyo from stand to stand in excitement, getting small gifts and trinkets for their family and friends. They were having an absolute blast.

“Chiyo look.” Kuniko said at one point, hand raised and pointing towards and awfully familiar face. “Isn’t that the man from the newspaper?”

The weretiger was here… she can’t even say she’s surprised really considering how he’s practically everywhere in Yokohama most days. But on the one end of the spectrum this meant that Atsushi Nakajima decided to come to the Carnival today and see what it was or… everyone else decided to come to the Carnival as well.

Honestly Ichiyo believed it was the former considering she couldn’t see anyone from either company surrounding the very uncomfortable looking boy- oh… oh no he was having a panic attack.

With a hobble and shuffle of Kuniko’s crutch the blonde mafioso made it to the weretiger’s side quickly.

“Hey.. Atsushi I need you to breathe okay.” She started, hands lightly gripping his forearms- because no offence she didn’t feel like getting clawed today. “I need you to tell me two things you can hear.”

“Uh… your voice… music?” He said after a moment.

“Three things you can see.” She says again. “And follow my breathing.” Ichiyo places his hand on her chest allowing him to feel her breathing.

“You, grass… you, grass… my hands.”

“Very good Atsushi. Three things you can feel.”

“Hands, my clothes and the breeze.”

“One more okay.” Higuchi said softly. “Something you can smell.”

“Ch-cherry blossoms?” He looked confused as he searched the area wearily before his eyes landed on the blonde.

“You back with us now?” She questions softly. He nods.

“Sorry… sorry just… I thought I saw- someone.” And didn’t that break her heart just that little bit. She never understood Akutagawa’s anger and rage towards the boy who suffered so much, she understood that Akutagawa went through his own trauma’s yes but so did she and many others but she would never belittle someone else’s trauma the way she’d heard him do so some days. She cared for the Rashoumon user, she truly did and she would hang stars in the sky for him but trauma is trauma and no one should be shamed for it.

Ichiyo shook her head, clearing her mind.

“It’s okay you don’t have to tell me Atsushi- May I call you Atsushi or would you prefer Nakajima?”

“Atsushi is fine Miss Higuchi.” He said, sounding awfully tired at that.

“I’m just Ichiyo when I’m not at work lovely.” She said now moving to grip his hand… a simple and calming gesture that always helped her siblings, specifically Kuniko when she was feeling drained and it seemed to work for the weretiger too. “Is anyone else here we were just about to get some food and drinks anyway so we are happy to help.”

“Uh yeah. The joint outing was today… I noticed you weren’t there.” He whispered.

“Ah… so they are here huh? Let’s go get you a drink and maybe some food yeah?”

“Okay.” Atsushi said as he gripped the commander’s hand tighter.

~~*~~*~~*~~

The group was in a mix of emotions, many worried and others wanting to continue on with their little adventure of the Carnival.

But they’d lost Atsushi and now Kyoka was worried sick- Koyo immediately took her to search for him together whilst the others decided to stay as a pack.

Either way they all found him after twenty minutes sat with two women one blonde and the other brunette (who looked about Kenji and Kyoka’s age at that).

And as they walked across the impromptu food court that blonde started to look really familiar.

Cold hands pressed against her back as she leaned over Atsushi tapping away at his phone to alert the ADA of his whereabouts- considering his shaking hands. She yelped and spun around ready to slap the person who surprised her only to see Gin.

“Sorry for startling you.” She says.

“It’s okay Gin… you wouldn’t happen to know where the others are would you?” Ichiyo asked. “I think Atsushi needs Kyoka to sit with him for a bit, he’ll be okay but..,. Yeah.”

Gin looked behind her, behind the weretiger and low and behold the entire group had arrived silently.

“Yo Big Sis I didn’t think you could make it to the joint outing.” Tachihara gleams once he’s close enough to see the blonde’s face. “Sick tattoo. You don’t strike me as a tattoo person.”

He was weirdly chill and yeah granted not everyone in Japan liked tattoo’s and she was in the mafia… knowing him she expected a little more fanfare just because he could.

“Oh… thank you.” She says now turning to face the group, Gin now stood beside her staring awkwardly at the shaking weretiger. “Ah Kyoka!”

“Yes?” The girl asks stepping forward as Higuchi motioned her closer.

“He had a panic attack. I got him to calm down a little but since you are practically his sister you should take over. I know I’d hate it if no one let me take care of my sister, Kuni.”

“Chiyo!” Her little sister pouted.

“Holy shit tattoo.” Was not what she expected to hear fall from her executives lips as he and Dazai arrived, flanking her sides (so Dazai could see to Atsushi and Chuuya could find out what’s happening).

“Ah yes I have a tattoo…”

“Cherry blossom branch?” Ozaki asked.

“Yeah. My family home had a giant one I’d climb so…”

“She broke her arm twice climbing it.” Kuniko said, it was blunt yet full of teasing.

“Shut up gremlin.” Ichiyo groaned as she pulled her sister into a weak headlock.

“I like your tattoo Miss Higuchi!” Kenji shouted, startling everyone at that.

“Why is everyone looking at my tattoo?”

“Because it looks divine on you.” Dazai said smoothly…. Only to get a foot to the face and tumble to the floor.

“No flirting with my co-workers you bandaged freak!” Chuuya yelled, his hands now resting on her exposed shoulders like that would keep the former mafioso at bay.

“Cherry blossoms symbolism is quite beautiful.” Ranpo pipes up, stepping right into Ichiyo’s personal space. “Mostly beauty and pride, but it is also associated with life, impermanence, and love. It can also be a reminder of how nothing lasts forever and that you should celebrate each day.”

“Oh… yes… thank you Ranpo for that insight.” Ichiyo flushes, leaning back into Chuuya’s hands just that bit.

“No problem. It suits you is all.” He said before stepping back to sit at the table… and devour his snacks.

“Why is everyone yelling?” Akutagawa asked as he stepped close to his sister, a small car plush in his hands as he passed it too her.

“Aww Ryuu thank you. I shall name is Ren two, after my cat.” Gin says with a teasing smile.

“Yeah whatever… so why are we yelling and who’re they?”

The group fell quiet for a moment before giggles and snorts erupted.

“You don’t recognise your own co-worker.” Tachihara snorted with many of the ADA following while the rest of the mixed group just snickered. “It’s Higuchi and that’s… her little sister?”

“Kuniko Higuchi…. Sup.” The brunette greeted from her seat. Ichiyo, who had yet to be let go of by Chuuya (who was still kicking at Dazai for flirting with her- as he does with most women) turned her head towards Akutagawa who seemed to have gained the tiniest bit of colour on his pale cheeks.

“Regardless… why are you all making such a scene you found the weretiger yes? Now let’s continue or go home.” Akutagawa said sounding extremely bored.

“Higuchi has a tattoo dontcha want to see it?” Gin teased.

“Not really. Tattoo or not I do not care about something stuck to one’s skin that was probably painful.” He answered.

“Huh? Nah she took it like a champ. Chiyo didn’t feel shit.”

“Kuni! Language.” Ichiyo snapped.

“Yes mum.” The teen snorted.

“Honestly.” Ichiyo groaned. “Welp I promised Kuniko I’d show her the Ferris wheel and a few more stall games before we head out for dinner… lovely to see you all on this very warm day.”

“You aren’t staying?” Kyoka questions.

“Well no I wasn’t even really invited to the joint outing anyway and I don’t really get much time with my sister due to work so I want to spend more time with her.” The blonde answered as she peeled herself away from gloved hands and helped her sister to stand.

“Not invited?” Yosano wondered aloud.

“It’s how it usually goes. Unless Mori tells me personally I’m usually left to my own devices either inviting myself or not going at all… but either way my sister is priority so I wouldn’t have joined today regardless. We should go now anyway. See you all at work.”

“See ya Big Sis.” Tachihara waved.

“Goodbye Higuchi.” The rest added as she and her sister began to leave.

“By Mafia lady!” Kenji added making the blonde laugh and ruffle his hair.

The two Higuchi’s pondered office through the crowd towards a few more stalls looking as happy as can be.

They had to wonder… why did she still seem so down?

[swtki]

HP Boys: Surprise Pregnancy Head Cannons

Summary: The HP boys and their reaction to their s/o (afab) being pregnant when its not planned.

A/N: This takes place post Hogwarts so all characters are 18+, though no real smut happens in this so its not an 18+ fic.

WARNINGS: UNPLANNED PREGNANCY, MENTIONS OF PRO CHOICE OPINIONS, MENTIONS OF SEX IN LITE TERMS, SWEARING, FLUFF, MENTIONS OF ALCOHOL, ALSO THIS IS SUPER LONG SORRY LOL

Draco

So everything is going great for the happy couple, you two just moved into a flat together and are working normal jobs, drinking wine like adults.

And sure, Draco knows he wants to marry you, but he knows you’re not ready to settle down like that so he just plans and dreams.

Due to poor choices, when you’re late by two weeks, you know what it probably is.

Draco doesn’t even notice that you ran out to the store and came back and hid in the bathroom for 10 minutes. CEO of minding his own business ig

You just kinda...walk up to him and hand him all 3 tests while your eyes fill with tears because what if he demands you get an abortion?

Or what if he fucks off to god knows where?

But instead he just looks at you with the most un-draco like smile. Like his face was soft and it looked like he could cry any moment.

“Oh my god,” He says, putting his hand on your belly, “I can be ready for this, but if you aren’t then we can you know...”

“No, I want it” then both of you rejoice bc yay baby!

Cut to 6 months later when your feet hurt so bad you have to lay down and watch while Draco fails to put a crib together.

He eventually gets it done tho.

And when the time comes, he’s built and arranged everything for your bundle of joy.

Harry

So you guys are probably already married, but with everything at the ministry going on, it makes Harry less than a family man.

You both agree that it’s probably better to wait so you can be home and yk...raise it.

Well smart man Harry forgets that to not have a kid you need to use protection.

So of course when your period is late you don’t think about it, until its four weeks late.

That night, you and Harry are laying in bed, and thats when you tell him.

“Harry..I’m late.”

“Late for what?” headass.

You: 😳😐

Him: 👁👁😲😲

He’s hesitant to say anything, because he knows its ultimitley up to you what happens with it until its out.

“I think I want to keep it...you know it wont remember much for the first year and a half so if things are stressful it will be okay and-“

“Love...Its going to be perfect”

Mf built the crib in like 45 minutes I swear.

And of course he forced you to keep up with your vitamins, pre natal care, and appointments.

Swear tho you’re about to kill him because cofFeE

But the way he holds your baby 🥺 its his most valued thing ever now.

Ron

Ron is iffy on the kid thing sometimes.

He does want them, but only later when you guys have lived and travled.

So no, you two haven’t planned nor is it even in the picture when your wedding roles around.

It’s in the early days of the marriage when you see his family at the burrow on the way back from the honeymoon.

And of course Molly knows

Because Weasleys are hyperfertile I swear.

She takes you into the kitchen and puts her hands on your arms, shes got that big Mrs.Weasley smile on too.

“I knew it!” She says and pulls you in for a hug, “How far dear??”

You’re just standing there like🧍🏻

“I can see it by the way you glow! Oh my you and my Ron must be so happy!” This woman doesn’t notice that you’re confused.

“Wait what? Mrs. Weasley what are you-?” Then you count the days, “Oh. Well I guess I just found out for myself”

Her face falls slightly, but then she tells you can make you a potion that will tell you if you are or not, stan.

The stupid potion turns green when you spit into it, so everything is confirmed.

That night, you and Ron are getting ready for bed in the guest room and you decide to tell him.

“Ron, sweetie. We need to talk.” He looks like he’s gonna start crying but sits next to you on the bed.

“Y/N...I know its scary but please, we just got married I don’t want to divorce quite just yet 🥺🥺”

“Ron I-“ you start smiling, “I’m pregnant you dufus.”

He just freezes, for a while. Not saying anything, he just looks at the wall with his mouth ajar.

So you get up and go to Ginny.

“Gin, I broke him.”

“Ew, I don’t want to know about how you and him”

“No, I told him that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, yeah that would do it. Just I don’t know... Give him a minute?”

You give him several, getting a glass of water then heading back up to the room.

Ginny was right, he needed a minute.

“I don’t...I wasn’t...you were.?”

“You don’t have to stay, but I think we can do it. Plus, you would disapoint your mom if you left so...”

“Okay...we’ll do it. I’ll be the best damn Father you have ever seen.” He says, talking to your womb.

Well...he’s a father I’ll give him that.

Pro of having a Weasley baby: free crib thats already put together.

Even if it looks like a death trap.

“We’ll put some blankets over it don’t worry”

You know how some Dads hold their parters hand during the delivery? Yeah he got sick and was moral support from the outside.

To be fair, you weren’t screaming in pleasure by any means.

Scary. But beautiful.

He shows the kid to everyone, he might be more in love with the baby than he is with you.

Ron see’s the appeal of having kids now.

Neville

Moving in with your boyfriend is always fun, right up until you guys go at it so much you forget protection more than once.

You think about it, then move on with your day.

Until the doctor calls, then “oh fuck”

Romance Neville bf

“Why aren’t you having any wine? I thought it was your favorite?”

“I don’t think fetal alcohol syndrome is my favorite.” BRO HE SPAT

But he looks up with tears in his eyes, and runs over to you to grasp you in a hug.

“Oh my god! You’re pregnant! Oh my - We’re gonna be parents!! Oh my god we’re gonna be parents oh-“ Que you petting his hair till he’s calm again.

Lets be honest, this man probably swapped the herbology books for the parenting guides.

“Well I mean I’m just wondering if we should go with this color or this one”

“Nev, it doesn’t matter. Our baby will not care.”

“I read in my book that Infants actually can recognize mood in-“

He won’t let you do anything during your pregnancy.

Gotta love a man who cries because he loves you so much and you’re having his kid.

“I never had a father, what if I do it wrong? What if the baby hates me and runs away at seven?”

“We’ve got quite a lot of time before then.”

He was there during delivery, letting you crush his hand like a champ.

You can’t help but cry when you see him sleeping on the floor next to the crib, its so sweet.

Fred

You two most likely already had two kids, so you decided to wait a bit so your hands weren’t quite full.

Well...your body decided not to wait.

A test provides the two lines, another wild child.

The two toddlers already run around like thing one and thing two, only with red hair.

I think Fred would gladly make the family dinner, and wear an apron. He’d own it, as he should.

But mf gotta not drop the salad bowl when you tell him of the fetus inside you.

“Fred we are going to have a bee-ay-bee-why.”

Your five year old has just begun to spell 😐

He’s happy tho.

Like over the fuckin moon.

He buys the two kids big brother/sister shirts too 🥺🥺

He knows the drill pretty well, so he isn’t too worried about the future.

But its funny that he still freaks out about the crib and feeding chair since he gave it away, you know because you guys werent having another kid.

He packed a hospital bag and kept it in the trunk, counting down the days.

Hours of delivery (He just sat back and held your hand) only to end up with a room full of 7 Weasley family members.

Fred always said that 3 was his lucky number :)

George

You guys were taking it slow, no marriage until you both felt it was time. And certainly no children before that.

Well you know...things changed when the test was positive.

You slid it over on the table, tears pooling in your eyes. He was stunned and quiet, which made you burst out sobbing because you knew that neither of you planned on having a baby.

But to your surprise he starts to smile.

“I want whatever you want, I’m staying by your side no matter what.”

“I mean...would it really be so bad? A house, a kid, a dog?” He holds your hand as you think aloud.

You both give it a week to think it over and the virdict is to keep it.

Thats when he decides he has to marry you, asap because he loves you and will never let you go especially now.

He loves to gush about the carrier of his child, to him you are a godess.

He’s the Dad with a predestination complex.

“Y/N, I just see him being a star quiditch player”

“George, we don’t know if it’s a him.”

He rolls his eyes “Okay then I can see her being a star-“

He made Hermione take you out for a movie date so he could rearrange your bedroom, since you only had a single bedroom flat.

You come back to a new set up including a cot.

Damn pregnancy hormones make brain go 🥺😭😭

He freaks when your water breaks lol

ceo of driving like a maniac to the hospital.

He can’t hold your hand, he’s pacing back and forth, sweating and maybe crying though he’ll never admit to it.

You get the joy of watching him cuddle the baby while refusing to give your child to you.

“George I’d like to hold-“

“No, you need your sleep honey, don’t worry”

Hogging the child.

Cedric

Its no secret that Cedric wants a baby someday.

And he makes it clear your wedding will be spectacular too.

However, finding out you’re pregnant the week of your dream wedding was a shock.

A shock that made you bang your head into the wall because how could you be so stupid?? We had a plan??

So you decide to wait until after the wedding, that way it wont add onto the stress (happy stress) of the wedding.

Cedric keeps trying to fill your glass at the reception, to which you kindly refuse saying you want to remember the night entirely.

Yeah he’s like 🤨 mhm okay.

You can only pick at the dinner because ew salmon doesn’t sound like an option if you want to keep the contents of your stomach.

As everyone waves goodbye to the car, and you both set off into married life, he leans over.

“I may be out of my mind, but are you...?”

“Pregnant.” His face lights up, pulling you into a hug.

Finally, your car pulls up to a small cottage with lush garden scapes all around, putting a hand out, he walks you both from the car to the door.

“Ced, where are we?”

“Home.”

Somehow it was perfect with Cedric, even when it was rushed.

He loved talking to your womb, even if it was weird that he was talking about the babies future brothers and sisters.

“Cedric, slow down. We haven’t even had this one yet”

Basically he is father of the year before he’s a full father.

He’s there while you deliver, holding your hand and telling you how great you’re doing.

He doesn’t even complain when you insult him <3.

He updates you on everything.

If his eyes aren’t on that child, he’s either asleep or dead.

I think Cedric was meant to be a family man, because he loves everything about being one.

Taglist: @truly-insatiable @amourtentiaa @imdoingathingmom @annasdani @anchoeritic @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @cedricsyellowscarf @faeinorbit

[t-lostinworlds]

Truth or Drink (Tom Holland)

[YouTube AU: Video 2]

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

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

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

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

-:-:-:-:-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bingo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Unfortunately, that too," he grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh no, of course not."

"That was not the plan."

"We would never."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How bad can it be?"

***

"And we are rolling."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Parental guidance is advised," Tom chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You love to see it."

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

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

"Thank you, kind sir."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, how open?" Tuwaine asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can vouch for that," Harry intervened.

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

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

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

"Tom!" you hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

Typical Thomas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Me," Tom said proudly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe downing that drink wasn't the best idea.

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

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

"Want to take a minute, sweetheart?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Doggy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a little shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You—"

"And I—"

"Were—"

"Just—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's when you step in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rabbits."

-:-:-:-:-

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[glowingbadger]

Hi…I came running as soon as the request opened. I just had my bday and would love a…Sylvain modern day nsfw / SFW fic about celebrating his s/o bday pls? Thanks a bunch.

Yes indeed! Sorry my requests are so backed up that it took me a while to get to this lol but I hope you had a lovely birthday!

Sylvain (FE3H) x AFAB Reader (no pronouns)

Birthday fluff & smut - Modern AU

NSFW 18+

"Hand over your controller, you're banned from the next round," Felix scowls with an intensity hardly suited to a game of Smash Bros, but Sylvain merely grins as he rolls his eyes.

"It's not my fault you can't time your shield properly," Sylvain says as he tosses his controller towards Mercedes, who fumbles it a bit on contact, "But fine, if you guys can't handle my masterful strategies, then go play in the kiddie pool with each other for a bit."

You give your boyfriend a skeptical grin as he wraps an arm around your waist beside you, seemingly oblivious to the stream of critical comments regarding his "masterful strategies." The general consensus is that they were cheap and repetitive at best, but Ingrid does remind everyone that they should have expected Sylvain to go to such lengths to win in front of you.

Annette leans back over the arm of the couch to look up at the two of you,

"Hey Sylvain, since you've been dishonorably discharged, mind grabbing us some refills?"

"'Dishonorably discharged,' c'mon-" he scoffs, looking to you for backup, but before you can chime in, Ingrid adds,

"Formally exiled?"

Followed by,

"Kindly instructed to piss off," from a still very irritated Felix. Sylvain throws his hands up and sighs,

"Fine, fine, another round of drinks from your humble servant," he nudges you on his way to the stairs, "Mind giving me a hand? We're looking at eight or nine drinks."

"And be an accomplice to a known criminal?" You reply with a smirk, though you do follow to help nonetheless.

You can't remember the last time you felt so naturally warm and giddy. Sylvain can be a terrible tease, and sometimes more flippant than you'd like- but there's no doubt in your mind that he cherishes you, especially given all he'd arranged for your birthday. By some miracle, he'd managed to get all of your mutual friends to schedule time that weekend to spend at a rented cabin ("cabin" only in the loosest sense of the word- it's more of a rustic mansion), sharing drinks and food, games and movies, and enough dumb jokes that your face is already sore from laughter. You hadn't expected him to go to such lengths for your birthday, and if you did dare to imagine how he would choose to celebrate, you'd assumed it would be something more traditionally romantic. But frankly, that he'd instead chosen to surround you with your friends showed that he understood you better than perhaps you'd even considered.

Not to say you haven't been quite pleased with the moments of alone time that the two of you have stolen among the celebrations. And judging by the sideways glance he sends your direction as you follow him up the stairs from the basement, he has something similar in mind for you right now.

As you reach the kitchenette area, you mumble to yourself,

"Okay, it was Pilsner for Ingrid and Dimitri, gin and tonic for Dedue-"

"C'mere, you," Sylvain says in a low and devious tone as he tugs you to him by the waist. He cuts off your coy laughter with his lips on yours. Strong hands run up your sides as he pushes you against the nearest wall, and the sound of your friends downstairs immediately fades from your mind. With a soft moan, you part your lips for his tongue, as skillful as ever as it runs against yours, sensually exploring your mouth. Then, you feel his hand grab at your ass, shamelessly enjoying the feeling of your flesh filling out his palm and then some. He gives a low groan, and his kisses begin to trail away from your lips and along your jawline. Already panting despite yourself, you cling to the front of his t-shirt and manage to say,

"Sylvain-! The... the others will notice- we don't have time..."

"No time to spoil the guest of honor on their own birthday?" he whispers against your ear, "Just try me. You won't last more than five minutes."

His fingers play coyly at the hem of your shorts, but his lips part from you as he awaits your go-ahead. You give a slanted smile and say,

"You win one round of Smash and get all cocky. Fine, just try it- but if it takes too long, we have to go b-"

Before you can finish, he's lifted you into his arms, only to set you down, sitting on the nearest countertop. Sylvain catches you in one more deep, impassioned kiss, pulling yet another gasping moan from you. Your thighs grip around his hips, but he suddenly breaks from you, leaving your very-kissed lips slightly parted. Then, he tugs your shorts and panties down your legs at once, and lowers onto his knees.

"Sylvain!" you gasp out, though you do lean back and angle yourself for him as his head dips between your parted thighs. Your boyfriend wastes no time- in an instant, the heat of his mouth is on your clit and the surrounding sensitive flesh. Throwing your head back, you moan aloud, glad that the TV downstairs is so loud and your friends are shouting and jeering their way through their next match. Without a thought, your fingers tangle through his fiery hair, urging him on as his tongue pulses eagerly against your stiffened clit. Sylvain's hands grip your thighs as he presses himself against you, servicing you near obsessively. It seems he meant to make good on that "no more than five minutes" threat.

The heat of his breath and the vibration of his voice send a shiver up your spin as he groans against you. For a moment, his tongue travels lower, teasing at your soaking wet entrance. You whimper, your hips pitching towards him subconsciously as he laps at your juices. He thrusts into you, and you gasp out his name, your fingers tightening in his hair. Still- he doesn't linger there for long. He can tell you're close. Returning to your aching clit, he buries himself between the soaked lips of your pussy, sucking at the tender flesh while the tip of his tongue flicks across the sensitive little nub.

Your eyes roll back, your legs tremble around him, and you swear that for a moment, you see white. With a final cry of his name, you grind your hips against him, urging him harder against your throbbing clit until you cum with a powerful shudder through your entire body. Panting heavily, face flushed, you watch him pull away from you with a smirk and a pleased hum. Once more, he drags his tongue along your slit, licking up your cum and savoring your taste and your little squeak of surprise.

"No... no fair..." you whimper out. Sylvain only chuckles as he rises to his feet with your previously discarded shorts and panties in hand.

"So? How long did you last, babe?" he prods with an absolutely insufferable smirk. You make an attempt at a disapproving glare as you snatch your clothing from him. At first, you ignore the question, sliding back onto your feet to dress yourself. "C'mon," Sylvain graciously allows you to make yourself presentable before urging you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "tell me how quickly I made you cum."

Your eyes dart to the nearby microwave clock, and you grumble,

"Just under four minutes..."

Sylvain's grin widens, and he places a sweet and soft kiss to your lips,

"Happy birthday, babe."

"That was... a hell of a present," you admit with a shy smile.

"Please, that was only a warmup," he says, amber eyes indulgently wandering your body, "Your birthday's not over yet, you know. You'll get the real present later tonight."

The mere thought causes that familiar warmth to bloom at your core, and you have half a mind to drag him away to the nearest bed here and now. But then, you both turn your heads at the sound of roaring cheers and boos, and the telltale banter of the end of another round. You and Sylvain exhale in unison, and he turns to the refrigerator while you take a moment to finish composing yourself.

"Right, so we're looking at two Pilsners, a gin and tonic, two rum and cokes, a cider, and... y'know what, let's just bring the wine down there with us for ease of access."

Sylvain rattles off everyone's drink orders as though he hadn't just interrupted his errand to drive you to a mind-numbing orgasm. You give an awkward half-smile and shrug, then come to receive as many drinks as you can carry. As he lists them off to ensure he hasn't forgotten anyone's order, you interrupt him by standing on your toes and planting a brief but tender kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, Sylvain," you see his eyebrow quirk upward and go on, "For- for planning all of this just for my birthday. And for the incredible orgasm," you add, since you can see him about to mention it, "but mostly for how fun this whole weekend has been."

Seeing Sylvain blush is a rare treat, but you're certain you can see that faint flush across his fair complexion at your praise. His gaze softens and he says simply,

"You know I'd do anything for you."

Soon enough, you're both headed back to the basement with arms full of drinks, moving slowly to avoid tripping or spilling. As you start distributing your cargo, Felix mutters something about the wait, to which Sylvain flippantly replies,

"Sorry man, beer can exploded, total mess."

"Dumbass," Felix mutters, though he receives his hard cider graciously. Sylvain glances over at you, and the knowing smirk he wears, tinged with genuine warmth and fondness, makes you all the more eager for the coming night.

[amysteryspot]

Just Tonight - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Requested: No

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader

Summary: The Shelby boys had returned from France in time for Christmas, but as (Y/N) expected, things weren't that easy to deal with for none of them.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW/+18), swearing, mentions of drinking and death.

Word Count: 3027

A/N: Oooooooooooooookay this turned out a lot more angstier and smuttier than I first predicted for something that is supposed to be a holiday fic. This is loosely based on the storyline used on "Better with you" and "Out of time". It's better if you've read those first, but it's not required. I really, really hope that you enjoy it. As always, your feedback is highly appreciated.

Song recomended: Sober by Loreen

(Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/N/N) = Your Nickname | (Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color

English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread by a beta.

If you want to be tagged in my stories, just send me a message.

(gif by @nofckingfighting​)

It was Christmas again. (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the irony of it all. When the Shelby’s and her father had left Small Heat with the rest of the man to go to France, the promise was that they would be back before Christmas. Well, they did return before Christmas, just four years later than they believed they would.

She had lost the spark to celebrate the holiday after they left. In 1914, she and her mother had joined Polly, Ada, Martha, and the kids on Christmas Eve. The next year it was just her and the rest of the Shelby clan. Somewhere along the way, (Y/N) had lost hope that the boys would ever return.

Her fears had been proved wrong two weeks ago when Arthur, Tommy, and John stepped out of the train in Small Heat. And even as relief washed through her, it took (Y/N) a second to recognize that the men who came back weren’t the same who had left.

The past few days had been strange, hard to deal with. It wasn’t easy for the men to be back and it wasn’t easy for the women to get used to having them back around. Everyone was learning how to deal with all the changes and as (Y/N) had learned from a young age, the process wasn’t always smooth.

“Let’s say our prayers,” Polly announced as she sat down.

Tommy scoffed and (Y/N) nudged him with her knee, making him roll his eyes, taking her hand in his as all of them closed their eyes as Polly prayed.

It was strange, all of them sitting there, around the same table, eating, drinking, and celebrating when so many of them didn’t have the opportunity to return. Tommy had never been a man of God, especially after his mother died, and his father left, and after Greta. Certainly not since he signed his name to go to war. (Y/N) knew that better than anyone.

“It’s good to have you all back,” Ada announced, after a long moment of silence, eyeing her brothers from behind the rim of her glass.

“It’s good to be back,” John mumbled when his brothers failed to do so.

“This is a little bit different than what we got used to,” Polly commented, smiling.

In the past years, they had lost (Y/N)’s mother and Martha, the first two years weren’t all that good, so hunger was something they had to get used to. Now, with the betting shop going steady and the boys back, there was more reason to celebrate than normal.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine how hard it has been,” Tommy sneered, laughing sarcastically.

(Y/N) looked up at Polly who just shook her head.

“It wasn’t easy staying behind, Tom,” Ada reasoned, looking at her older brother.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine how hard it was. Staying here, in the comfort of the house, while we were…”

(Y/N) interjected before he could continue and make a bigger mess out of something that was already difficult, “It’s not a competition, Tommy. We know it wasn’t easy for you all out there, but staying here wasn’t easy too. One thing doesn’t erase the other.”

He looked at her then, nothing but ice on his glare, knuckles white from gripping the fork too tight, but said nothing in return, huffing his disagreement.

Silence fell on the table again, the only noises that could be heard were the ones from the cutlery scraping against the plates. This certainly wasn’t the celebration all of them had in mind.

Saying that the rest of the meal was tense would be an understatement. The children ended up easing up the mood, and (Y/N) thanked God if He was listening, for that little blessing.

After they finished, (Y/N) was collecting the dishes to go wash then when Polly stopped her.

“You did most of the cooking, let me and Ada finish the cleaning. Go sit by the fire with a drink and rest a little bit.

(Y/N) didn’t fell for Polly’s act even a little bit. She knew very well what the Shelby’s matriarch wanted—for her and Tommy to make amends over a drink by the fire.

John had gone home with the children, Finn was already with Arthur on the parlour, the oldest Shelby was probably already half-way drunk, considering the amount of alcohol consumed during the meal. She was a little bit tipsy herself, all of them were, in some way, except for the children.

Sighing, (Y/N) picked up her glass from the table, ignoring Ada’s complaints on the background, and headed to the place she wanted to avoid.

As she had guessed, Arthur was almost passed out in one of the couches, a bottle of whiskey by his side. Finn was curled up beside him, one of Arthur’s hand protectively on the boy’s shoulders, as the child dozed off.

She couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on her lips and faltered a little bit when she looked at the other side of the room, finding Tommy sitting there in silence, contemplating the fire.

(Y/N) ignored his eyes on her as she went to pour herself a glass of gin and chose to sit down on the armchair, instead of the couch. What she couldn’t ignore was the frown on his face as she settled down.

None of them said anything for a while, long enough for Arthur’s snores to take over the place.

“I should put Finn to bed,” (Y/N) said, putting her glass down on the center table, meaning to get up.

“Let them stay there,” Tommy’s voice startled her and she turned her head in his direction to see him getting up from the couch and placing his glass on the table, besides hers. “Common, let’s go upstairs,” he invited, extending his hand to her.

(Y/N) sighed, knowing that whatever ruffle started between them never lasted long, and silently accepted his invitation, letting him guide her up the stairs. They were both slightly drunk, but that wasn’t enough to prevent her from hesitating at his door—the room brought her too many memories. The last time they were there alone had been on the night before he left to war—the night she had given herself to him.

Tommy must have noticed her hesitation, leading her inside with a gentle pull, and closing the door behind them.

“Polly said that you wouldn’t enter the room for weeks after we left.”

(Y/N) hummed in answer, watching him sit down on the bed and pat the spot beside him for her to follow. She obliged, studying the peeling wallpaper for a moment.

“And then I wouldn’t leave it, ‘cause it smelled like you,” she admitted, choosing to ignore the little smirk that appeared on his lips, “Until it didn’t anymore and I stayed anyway because it was the closest thing I had of you.”

She looked at him then, to find his gaze already on her, a solemn expression on his face as he assured “You have me now.”

“Do I?” (Y/N) asked, blinking slowly as she felt his hand take hers in between both of his.

She wasn’t certain about anything anymore. They had known each other for all of her life, gone through terrible things that only brought them together even more. But since the day they said their farewells at the train station, (Y/N) wasn’t sure about their feelings for one another anymore.

“You always had,” he assured, not a hint of doubt on his face, “since the moment your mother put that tiny bundle of covers in my arms and you stared back at me with these bright (Y/E/C) eyes of yours.”

He smiled at her, one of those barely-there smiles that were Tommy’s Shelby signature, turning his body toward her, so they were face to face. “You’ll always have me, wanting it or not.”

“As if I ever won’t,” (Y/N) murmured, shyly, more to herself than to him.

Tommy smirked, bringing her closer, cradling her face in between his hands. “Good,” he praised, low and deep, placing a kiss on her forehead, and then a second time, louder and clearer, “Good. ‘Cause I have some plans and I’ll need you by my side.”

“God help us! Thomas Shelby has plans,” she jested as a way to lighten the mood. It only worked for a brief moment, as he smiled and shook his head, but his hands never left her skin as he came closer to her, their noses brushing against each other.

Looking up at him through heavy eyelids, (Y/N) said his name as a warning, one Tommy chooses to ignore, leaning in to extinguish the final bit of space separating them and bringing their mouths together.

(Y/N) doesn’t fight him. Don’t believe she has it in her to refuse him, not when she, herself, had been craving his touch since the moment they said their goodbyes before he left for France years ago. Since he had touched her, made love to her the night before he left. Since the moment he kissed her for the first time when she was fifteen.

She kisses him back, holding his wrists between her fingers, as hungry as he is to get a taste.

“Tommy,” she protests again, weakly, the feeling of his lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone fogging her mind. “Tommy, we shouldn’t.”

He growls in disapproval, lips never leaving her skin, as his hands trail down her body, catching her by the waist and hoisting her up to his lap.

She gasps, not yet used with this new source of strength that the war provided him with. Memories that she tried so hard to bury come flooding her mind.

“I need you,” he breaths against her skin, “Just tonight.”

Taking his face in between her hands, (Y/N) forces him to look at her. He looks lost, like a boat that was left adrift, desperately looking for something that can bring him back to the shore. The look in his eyes is more vulnerable than seductive as he just stays there, unmoving, gazing back at her, waiting for an answer, just as she did years ago.

(Y/N) gives in, nodding. His lips are on hers in a heartbeat, hands grabbing at her hips and bringing her flush against his body. They both moan at the slight friction as her legs tighten around his hips.

Desperately, they start to unbutton each other’s clothes in a hurry to get the skin on skin contact. When she is down to her undergarments, having taken pity on him and freed herself from the slip, his eyes travel down her body, taking in every inch of exposed skin.

She remembers their first time together, how he did the same thing, looking down at her as if trying to engrave the image on his mind and (Y/N) suddenly feels vulnerable.

Tommy doesn’t give her much time to think, spinning them around and laying her down onto the mattress. His mouth explores her skin like it was a map he has to memorize. He places open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone and chest, unfastening the brassiere to kiss, lick and nibble at her breasts, chuckling against her skin as she takes a fist of his hair in between her fingers, tugging it not so gently at the feeling of one of her nipples being dragged against his teeth.

He tortures her with his ministrations until he is satisfied with the writhing mess she’d become. Then his kisses move down, and down until they reach the waistband of her bloomers.

Looking up at her, hunger in his eyes, Tommy hooks his fingers on the fabric, bringing it down her legs, along with her stockings, leaving her bare before him.

Again, he takes a moment to look down at her through heavy eyelids. She is not sure about what she sees in his cold eyes, but whatever it is, it brings a shiver down her spine.

Partying her legs, Tommy lays down on his stomach, bringing her calves to rest on his shoulders. (Y/N) lets her head fall back, closing her eyes at the feeling of his fingers parting her lips and his tongue licking up a stripe from her entrance to her clit.

She moans against her palm, trying to muffle the sound, her other hand fisting the sheets as he chuckles.

“Patience, love,” he purred, “I’ve been waiting for that for too long, let me enjoy you.”

Her mind can’t register the words, not when his mouth was on her again, kissing, and licking, and nibling, making her go crazy. (Y/N) didn’t remember the last time that a man had willingly done that, much less if any had made her feel this way with just his mouth.

(Y/N) has to bite down her lower lip to prevent any sounds from coming out of her mouth as she feels one of his fingers slipping into her.

Tommy doesn’t seem pleased by it, “Common now, (Y/N/N), don’t hold back. I want to hear you.”

“Your siblings are on the house,” she warns.

“From what I remember you weren’t worried about that the last time,” he retorts back, mirth dripping from his voice. “Besides, they’ve heard worse. John went back home with the kids, I’m pretty sure that Finn and Ada left with Polly, Arthur is too drunk to bother. You have nothing to worry about.”

She doesn’t get a chance to fight back when he adds a second finger to the first and licks at her clit at the same time. (Y/N) almost doesn’t recognize the sound that leaves her lips.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, fingers curling inside of her and making her curse under her breath. “Don’t hold back, come for me. I want to feel you coming all around my fingers. Want to know how it tastes.”

It’s all too much for her to handle. Having him back home, safe and sound, the feeling of one of his hands holding her down as his fingers play with her, the sound of his voice praising her… Her eyes close, toes curling as pleasure washes over her body.

She comes to her senses again with the feeling of his lips on hers. (Y/N)’s hands find the back of his neck to bring him closer, savouring the heady taste of her on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss, getting rid of the rest of his clothes in a hurry as she watches, getting acquainted with this new version of him. She had patched him up enough times to distinguish his old scars from the new ones. He was stronger, had more muscle on his bones, looked sharper when he had been softer before.

There was no denying that the man who came back from the war wasn’t the same that left for it.

Joining her again, he positions himself between her legs, holding himself up on his elbows, as he kisses her again. Both of them take a sharp intake of breath when their bodies meet. He rocks against her, the friction making her hiss against his lips.

“Don’t tease,” she half warns, half begs.

Tommy smiles, parting her folds with one hand and rubbing his cock against her cunt, swearing against her ear.

“So wet,” he coos, rolling them around again, so she is straddling him.

He pulls her close, resting her forehead against his as she positions herself over him. Tommy’s strong hands guide her down his cock slowly. The feeling is better than what (Y/N) remembered and she has to fight the urge to just close her eyes and get lost in the sensation.

Maybe it would’ve been better if she had because the look of pure awe in his eyes is something that (Y/N) doesn’t know if she will be able to forget.

She lets him guide her at first. He is surprisingly gentle, waiting for her to get used to the stretch, setting a slow pace as he helps her move, dropping praises at her ear, of how good she feels, how wet she is, how well she is taking him.

It doesn’t take long for her to feel the familiar sensation of pleasure pooling down at the low of her belly, encouraging her to pick up a rhythm of her own. Hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage, (Y/N) rolls her hips more firmly against his, taking him all the way down, before increasing her speed.

“Fuck,” he pants against her ear, lips searching for hers as his fingers dig deeper onto her waist.

It feels too good, him filling her up, hitting so deep that it’s almost too easy to get lost in it. She grabs at his hair, tastes the sweat on his skin, traces the inked lines on his chest and arm while moaning his name.

“Just tonight?” the reminder comes out as a question, one that he answers against her lips, eyes locked on hers.

“Just tonight.”

Her chest tightens with his words but she doesn’t have time to delve into it, not when Tommy starts to thrust up into her and all she can feel is him, moving inside of her, lips on her skin as he groans her name.

She feels his cock throbbing and his release follows right after. He doesn’t relent though, sneaking a hand in between them to massage her clit while he moves her up and down his still hard cock. It doesn’t take long for her orgasm to hit her with full force, she is too far gone, becoming putty in his hands.

As the coil inside her belly snaps, (Y/N) gasps his name, searching for his lips in desperation. The pleasure is overwhelming, she doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to face him tomorrow morning and pretend that this meant nothing to her. A single tear escapes her eye, she feels his fingers brushing it off and opens her eyes to see the little frown on his face.

Kissing him again, she relinquishes the feeling of him still inside of her, trying to burn it into her memory, because she doesn’t know if he will still be there in the morning.

.

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @internalmess3​ @giowritess​ @theshelbyclan​ @peakyxtommy​

[secretkeeper13]

Name

A year ago today, after a few months of lurking on Ao3 and Tumblr and reading without an account, I posted my first fic. I don’t know what possessed me to start writing. I think I was so desperate for some sort of creative outlet in the monotony of quarantine life that when I got an idea, I wrote it down. And here I am a year later, still writing, though not as frequently as I’d like. Thank you @thedistantdusk, queen beta, for all your help. To all the funny, lovely people I’ve “met” on Discord, thanks for brightening the past year. And thank you to everyone who read and commented on my fics.  I truly appreciate you all!  

A little (belated) Harry birthday fic below the cut or on Ao3

For many years, Harry hated summer. Summer was loneliness and boredom, monotony punctuated by growls from his stomach or his aunt’s shouts. Summer was endless daylight that stretched and languished well into the night, mocking him, a prisoner in his bedroom with barred windows. Summer meant isolation, locked doors, tossing and turning alone under damp, sticky sheets.

But what he once loathed had now become his favorite season, when three weeks ago, on the terrace of their garden, under the orange glow of the evening summer sun, he’d dropped to one knee, and with shaking hands, asked Ginny to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, yet part of him still couldn’t believe it- that after everything, horcruxes and hallows, Voldemort and the Forest, she would be walking down the aisle not to a faceless stranger, but to him.  

In their bed later that evening, after a round of private celebration, the sheen of sweat still clinging to their bodies, she’d told him of her idea. A wedding at the Burrow, just family and close friends, and a surprise to all but a handful, planned under the guise of her birthday party. It would keep the press from getting wind of it, she’d said, and with the ink barely dry on Rita Skeeter’s latest “expose” (Ginny plying Harry with love potions in an effort to force him to propose), he’d thought it was a brilliant plan. And secretly, Harry thought that the limited window for Molly to fuss over wedding preparation was a bonus.

“Do you think it’s crazy?” she’d asked, as her fingers traced gentle patterns over his chest. “I know it’s barely a month away.”

“No,” he said, turning his head to kiss her bare shoulder, “I’m chuffed that you can’t wait to marry me, actually.”

She grinned at him, her smile bathed in moonlight. “Afraid I’ll change my mind if we wait too long?”

“Well, love potions don’t last forever, you know. And one of these days I may slip up and forget to put it in your tea.”

“No, no- you’ve got it all wrong,” she teased, jabbing him with her finger. “I’m the one who's dosing you, remember?”

“Ah, but Rita Skeeter never gets it right, you know that,” he replied, smirking at her through the darkness.

She’d thrown her head back as she laughed, that beautiful sound echoing in the stillness, then kissed him again, and he wondered, for the thousandth time, how he’d gotten this lucky.

And now, three weeks later, on the morning of his birthday, still enjoying the glow of their secret engagement, he sat on the sofa leafing through the sports pages of the paper when Ginny’s voice rang out from upstairs.

“Harry, will you come up here for a moment?”

“Be right up,” he called back. Assuming it was something to do with the wedding, he climbed the stairs and entered their bedroom. The sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks.

Ginny stood near the foot of the bed, wearing only a Harpies jersey, her long hair swept over one shoulder, the bare skin of her other shoulder peeking out on the other side. The jersey was clearly his, as it hung on her like a dress, ending just below her bum, revealing almost all of her legs. At the sight of her, his eyes went wide and his jaw slackened instantly.

She grinned at his reaction. “Happy birthday.”

“I’ll say,” he replied, his eyes trailing down her legs, the creamy skin peppered with freckles.

She took a step closer, closing the gap between them. “I’m wearing your present,” she said, and he could tell that she was trying to sound nonchalant as she ran her hand lightly down his chest, pausing tantalizingly over the waistband of his joggers. “But I thought you’d prefer to unwrap it this way.”

“You thought right.”

He kissed her softly, his lips sliding over hers, his hands cradling her face. “Thank you,” he murmured, his lips moving to graze the shell of her ear, “I’ve been needing a new one, the old one is looking a bit worn.”  

Before he could begin to move his lips down her neck, she pulled back slightly. She looked up at him, still grinning, her eyes glinting in the soft morning light. “That wasn’t why I got it for you.”

“Well, you know I’ve got a thing for you in your uniform,” he replied, leaning down for another kiss, but she put her hand lightly on his chest to stop him.

“I know- but that isn’t why either.” Her smile was so wide that her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was clearly enjoying this.

“I got it because…” She paused as she took a step back, positively beaming at him now. “You’ll be needing a jersey with my new name.”

At that, she turned so her back was facing him. And there, in bold, gold letters, the name POTTER was emblazoned above Ginny’s number.

He was stunned. They’d never discussed Ginny changing her name. He hadn’t even thought about it in the whirlwind weeks of their engagement. He’d simply assumed, given her career (not to mention her fierce sense of independence) that she would keep hers. It certainly didn’t matter to him- she’d said yes to marrying him, that was all that was important.

“Surprised?” Ginny asked.

“I, erm… yeah,” he replied, unable to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced to try to process it all.

For the first eleven years of his life, his name was delightfully ordinary. His aunt once said his name was common , the word dripping with disdain, as if it was the most grievous insult she could bestow. Her implication aside, it was true that his name wasn’t unusual. There was another Harry in his primary school. He’d seen other Potters, too. Once in the clinic, the nurse called out for “Mr. Potter,” and an elderly man rose as Harry stood.  After the man smiled kindly at him and shuffled into the corridor, he’d asked Petunia innocently if the man was a relative. In response, she’d scoffed and told Harry that if he had other relatives, he certainly wouldn’t be living with her.

When he entered the wizarding world, his name ceased to be ordinary, transformed, like everything in his life, on that fateful day of his eleventh birthday. From then on, his name was notorious. It was whispered unsubtly as he walked down the corridors of Hogwarts. It was splashed across headlines in the Prophet. It was jeered by Death Eaters. Far too often, it was said with a reverence that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.  

The thought of Ginny taking his name, and all that came with it, overwhelmed him. A lump began to form in his throat. He swallowed quickly, trying to compose himself, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Love- are you all right?” she said, turning back around to face him.

“I… yeah,” was all he could manage, his voice cracking.

She placed her arms around him gently, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m just s-surprised,” he stammered. “We hadn’t talked   about it, and Hermione’s always going on about how it’s sexist that the woman is expected to take the man’s name. And you’ve worked so hard to make a name for yourself in Quidditch. And you know, er, feminism and all…” He trailed off, aware he was rambling.

She smiled, pulling back slightly so she could look up at him. “Well first, Hermione’s right. It is sexist that it’s assumed that a wife will take her husband’s name. But I think it’s quite clear from your reaction that you didn’t expect me to or assume I would. Right?” She raised her brow.

“Of course I didn’t. It’s fine if you want to keep yours, really.”

“But I don’t,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “Plus, I  think there’s plenty of Weasleys to carry on the family name without me, yeah?”

“I know, it’s just…” He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing larger. “My name- it’s a lot. And I’d understand if you didn’t want to take that on.”

She slipped her arms around him again, pulling herself to him until she was flush to his chest. “Harry,” she said, her tone soothing, her voice reverberating on his chest, “we’ve been together since I was fifteen. I understand everything that comes with the name Potter. And that’s why I want to do this, why I’m choosing to do this- I thought it might be nice if you had someone, family, to share that with. I think that sometimes it's lonely for you, being the only Potter, and I never want you to feel alone.”

She hugged him tightly. He inhaled, his breath shaky, as he let himself sink into her embrace. Seeing her in that jersey, knowing that she wanted to take his name, that they would be united together, permanently- he was overcome. He blinked rapidly and bit his bottom lip, squeezing her back tightly, determined not to spoil the moment.

As his racing heart slowed and he composed himself, he gently tipped her chin up to look at her.

“Gin,” he said, his tone soft and earnest, “I’d love nothing more than to share my name with you. I just don’t want you to feel obligated. We could double-barrell, if you wanted-“

She rolled her eyes, “I’d prefer if our children didn’t sound like posh twats every time they introduced themselves, thanks.”

He laughed, then realized- “Our children?”

She nodded and looked up at him through her lashes. “We have talked about that, you know.”

He felt as if he would burst from happiness. He leaned down and kissed her, trying with all his might to put into the kiss what he couldn’t find the words to say, to tell her, with his mouth and the trace of his tongue, how much this meant to him.

She sighed as they broke apart. “I take this to mean you’re happy that in a week I’ll be Ginny Potter?”

“Yes. Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it, really. Honestly, I’m so thrilled that you’re marrying me, it wouldn't matter what name you’d chosen.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “In that case, I take it all back. I’m going by Ida.”

“Ida?”

“Yes, Ida Shaggem.”

He burst into laughter.

“No?” she feigned, mirth evident in her tone. “What about Anita Hardone?”

He was laughing so hard now that his shoulders shook.

Her smile grew wider and she bit her lip (he could tell she was trying very hard to keep from laughing). “Well then, I guess Ginny Potter it is.”

She burst into laughter and he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as he walked her backwards towards the bed, both of them still laughing, nearly breathless.

As they reached the end of the bed, her hands grasped the hem of the jersey to pull it off.

“Oh no,” he gasped, still trying to stop laughing. “You’re definitely leaving that on.”

[claymorecut]

YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE LOVE WHEN YOU CAN’T STOP LOVING YOUR WIFE EVEN WHEN SHE GROWS A PAIR OF KINTAMA

A GinTsu fanfic

Word Count: 8072

A/N: This fic is long. And messy. And I wanted to write this for a really long time. Hope you guys enjoy! <3

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

‘Huh? When did I get here..?’

Standing under the scorching afternoon sun, this is the first thought that crosses the silver-haired samurai’s mind. The familiar crossroad bustled with people as Gintoki scrunches his eyes and shields them from the blinding sunlight. Not long ago was he lying on his precious couch in his cozy little apartment, so how come is he now standing on the middle of Yoshiwara? Oh yes, he was already on his way to pay his busy wifey a visit.

‘Must be the heat, I might’ve lost track of when I reached here.’ Rubbing his eyes which seems to itch a little, the man decided to make his way towards the infamous tea-house. It has been months since he last visited Yoshiwara but the true reason he’s here today is because he wants to see his wife. For the last few weeks, Tsukuyo has been coming home late due to work and to his disappointment - and sure enough, hers as well - they hardly get the chance to spend time together.

Of course, like always, Gintoki stays the same, good, supportive husband who doesn’t constantly nag his wife about her workaholic nature and busy schedule but right now, perhaps, he has started to feel a little lonely. And as cheesy as it sounds in his thirty-five years old mind, Gintoki really misses her. Not just the sex or the long, passionate kisses, but he really misses spending quality time with her. Seriously, when was the last time the two sat down and read their favorite manga series together? More importantly, their second anniversary is only a few dates away and this time, he wants to surprise her with something special. Something that can help the Tsukuyo take a break from her job and relax.

The former city of night appears as same as ever with people busy with their daily work. A few Hyakka members patrolled the streets, in case of any transgression. However, far away in front of another tea house, Gintoki catches a small crowd of woman swarming a large, tanned man, most likely flirting with him while he seems to be going along with them playful pokes and giggles. Due to his back facing him, he can’t get a clear look on the unfamiliar man except for his wide back and blond hair which perfectly contrasted his bronze skin. No wonder so many women were flocking around him, he appears to be quite a good-looking man.

“Oh Gin-san, how have you been?” The delighted owner of the tea house was greets him as he walks inside.

“Usual, I guess.” The man simply replied and takes a seat on one of the benches, facing her. “I just saw this guy outside. You guys hired a new bodyguard?”

At his curious question, Hinowa gives him a confused look. “No. We haven’t had new recruits for quite some time now.”

“Oh.”

“So, Gin-san.” Hinowa asks, changing the subject. “What brings you here?”

While Hinowa gives him her signature smile, Gintoki finds the situation quite odd. Wouldn’t a teasing “Here to see Tsukuyo~” with her playful smirk have made more sense?

‘Perhaps, she’s gotten used to it.’ His mind reasoned back as he brushed off the thought.

“Uh…well, I was basically here to meet Tsukuyo but I was thinking of taking her on a trip for our anniversary.” Looking down, he nervously rubs the back of his neck. He may have been a married man now but even still, showing his rather romantic side of his in front of anyone except Tsukuyo makes him a little…flustered.

“You know how she is with her ‘I don’t want anythin’’ and stuff. That woman has been working constantly for ages and she really needs to get some rest! I never thought choosing a gift for a woman would be this tough, let alone surprising her but it’s her we’re talking about after all….So, I thought maybe you can suggest me something.”

After finishing up his chattering, Gintoki looks back up at her with a flushed face, only to find Hinowa confusedly blinking at him. “…Eh? Anniversary?”

The man knits his brows. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

“Forgot what?”

“My and Tsukuyo’s anniversary.”

“But when did you get marri-“

“What’s goin’ on?” A deep and surprisingly familiar voice came from behind the silver-haired man.

“Oh, Tsukuo. Did you know Gin-san got married? He just told me.”

“What? When?”

“I don’t know…maybe he’s talking about someone else…”

This casual exchange of words sounded strange. But what sounded stranger is the name of the man who is talking with Hinowa. Who is now standing right beside him. Perplexed at this sudden change of events, Gintoki slowly turns to his side to find the very same tanned and muscular man he has seen before entering the tea house standing who now looked at him and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Yo, Mr. Husband. Did ya forget to invite us or what?” The man named Tsukuo teases him.

And Gintoki felt all the blood drain off his face.

He knew something was off. Really off. And as he got the closer look of the man’s face, the more he finds himself horrified. “W-who are you?”

The large man quirked one of his brows and then looks back at Hinowa, directing his thumb at Gintoki. “Is he okay?”

“He looked fine before. Gin-san, you look pale. Are you okay?”

No. No, he isn’t. Because this doesn’t look right. And no matter how much he tries, his brain has now failed to process the entire situation as Gintoki finds his eyes fixated at the buff man who looks shockingly familiar. Blond hair, violet eyes, the familiar black kimono decorated with autumn leaves and the infamous scar that he has gotten accustomed to kissing - Gintoki has been seeing all these features for years now.

In his wife.

Pointing a shaky finger at the large man, Gintoki felt his voice turn into a mere, almost squeaky, whimper “Hinowa-san….what happened to my Tsukuyo?” He could no longer contain the shock and disbelief in his voice. No way is this happening!

“Tsukuyo?” At this, the raven-haired woman looks puzzled. “But that’s Tsukuo.”

“I-I know..but…did some strange light fell from the sky and changed her sex? Like how it happened last time in the Dekobokko arc?” Each syllable he stutters makes his heart race a little faster. “What happened to Tsukuyo?”

“….Gin-san, what’re talking about? There’s no one named Tsukuyo here.”

His mouth falls agape. “Hinowa-san, please don’t joke like this.”

“But….I’m not joking, Gin-san….”

“Then…you’re saying my wife…is now…a man..?”

Suddenly he feels a large hand on his shoulder, probing him to look at the other direction which he was so badly trying to avoid. “Are ya outta your mind, ya bastard?” His said wife says up loudly, sounding quite offended by his genuine question. “I’ve always been a man.”

.

..

…

‘WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!?’

*****

“Of course Tsukuo-dono has always been a man.”

“Who doesn’t know about the King of Night in Edo, Danna?”

“Gin-san~ Why are you suddenly so interested in that bastard when I’m right here~”

“Oi, Sarutobi. I’m right here - By the way, why’re you asking around if Tsukuo has always been a guy or not? Did you lose your memories or something?”

Nobody remembers. Nobody.

For the last three hours, Gintoki has been running around the city of Edo after dashing out of Yoshiwara, just so he can find out whether the unearthly Dekobokko cultist have made their comeback or not.  Unfortunately, nothing of that sort has happened. In fact, after asking Kyubei, Saachan and the Shinsengumi who once turned into the opposite gender knows nothing this uncanny event of his wife turning into the male version of her. Actually, his wife never swapped genders even when they did.

And every time he frantically asked the same damn question, their responses also stayed the same - “But Tsukuo has always been a man. We don’t know anyone named Tsukuyo.”

The statement itself is like a tight slap on his face. But what hurts more is that she is no longer here. Nobody remembers their marriage and…nobody remembers her.

His ring is gone.

All the wedding pictures and albums he once had in their little house are all missing.

And now that he looks at the empty shelf where they once had a beautiful framed picture of them kissing on their wedding day, Gintoki slumps down on the floor as he ponders about this absurdity he is currently in. Wasn’t it just this morning when he saw his wife leave for work before giving him a quick peck on his lips? Wasn’t it just a few hours ago when was planning to surprise his wife on their second anniversary? But now it feels like he is in a completely different world. And suddenly he is back to the same ol’ single and unmarried Sakata Gintoki who no longer has the amazing badass blond bombshell of a wife by his side.

In this sorry state, Gintoki recalls a memory from the morning where his favorite weather girl, Ketsuno Ana was announcing today’s horoscope predictions.

“For Libras, today, you may find yourself in an uncanny situation. Perhaps, your love life will be tested today under very confusing conditions but let me tell you, do not give up hope. As long as you believe in yourself and your partner, everything will turn out just fine.” The woman gave a bright smile from behind the screen as he flicked the TV off.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?” The utterly confused and enraged man yelled at the ceiling without paying any attention to what his neighbors are going to think. Confusing!? No, this is a hellish situation! “OI WRITER! WHY WON’T YOU JUST LET ME LIVE AS A HAPPILY MARRIED MAN!?”

Even breaking the fourth wall didn’t work. Finding himself alone in the bland living room, Gintoki hopelessly looks down on the floor and then at his empty left ring finger, gently rubbing it. He is not a sappy man, never has been, but truthfully, the empty finger does not suit him anymore.

The day he found out Tsukuyo had been in love with him throughout the runtime of the series was the day realized how much of lucky bastard he has been to have someone like her in his life. Idiot he might have been for not acting on his feeling but the day he took his vows was day he promised he will not let go of her. Ever.

‘Then why the hell is this going on…?’

A knock on his door interrupts Gintoki and he lets out a heavy sigh. If it was any other day, he would definitely have answered the door. But right now, ignoring it seems like a better option. Must be the baba is what he thinks and then stands up from his place to go look for some strawberry milk in the fridge. Maybe that can help him cool down…even just a little. Another two knocks, this time louder, tries to get his attention but he chooses not to respond again. No way is he in the mood to have a chat with someone.

“Oi Gintoki! I know you’re in there!” A voice calls out for him. A very familiar voice that he just wants to…avoid right now.

However, his mission fails instantly when another knock comes in, making him rub his already throbbing temple.

Groaning, Gintoki turns the other way to greet the unwanted guest in his house. Well, technically that was her- oh sorry, his house too, but according to the current situation, calling him a guest seems more appropriate. Sliding the main door open - and deep down, wishing it’s Tsukuyo standing there – he finds the male version of his wife nonchalantly smoking from the signature kiseru with his muscular arms folded under his well-toned chest. His blond hair is now tied in a small ponytail and damn, he is a few inches taller than him.

“Why did ya run away like that?” Tsukuo asks, putting down his kiseru. And while he refuses to admit, Gintoki can clearly hear the concern in his voice which seems so…familiar. But this isn’t her.

“Just had something to do.” Shrugging, Gintoki tiredly looks at the man. “I don’t know what I was saying, sorry about that.” He lies, really not in the mood to explain whatever this is. And possibly, this man will not believe him.

“Okaaay.” Tsukuo trails off, confused at his dismissive behavior. “You okay now? You seemed a little off back in Yoshiwara.”

Oh, can he just stop resembling her so much!?

“Yeah. Can you just leave me alone? I’m gonna get some sleep now, my head hurts” He knows he is being an ass but this is for the better. Tiredly, he slides the door close only to find a tight grip on the doorframe and shoves it open again.

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” Tsukuo asks, slightly annoyed as he bends a little forward to look into the silver-haired man’s eyes. “First you act like you’ve seen a ghost and now you’re actin’ like an asshole?”

Hearing this, a vain pops in his head. He really can’t catch a break, can he? First, he sees his wife turn into this extremely handsome and muscular man who has lost all memories of their marriage and now, he’s supposed to explain why he is acting like this like a madman!?

“So, how else am I supposed to act, huh!? Act like everything’s normal when it’s actually NOT!?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?” Tsukuo snaps back, confused at his sudden outburst. “Isn’t this normal, you moron!?”

“Oh yeah!?” Gintoki grits his teeth, feeling fumes coming out of his ears. “Maybe it would have if my married life hadn’t been suddenly erased from existence!”

“And when the hell did you get married!?”

“ ALMOST TWO YEARS AGO ON 21ST JUNE, AT THE END OF SPRING!” Gintoki screams out, making the passerbys look above at the two men who are now engaged in a heated argument.

“What the-!?”

Scoffing loudly, Gintoki throws his hands up in the air in utter defeat. “See! This is what I’m talking about! A few hours ago, I was a happily married man, planning to surprise my wifey for our second marriage anniversary and suddenly, I see everything is gone! Poof! Vanished in thin air like it NEVER existed!! And the worst part- nobody remembers my marriage, NOT EVEN YOU!”

Tsukuo only returns him another puzzled look. “And how the hell would I remember that!?”

“Because you’re the one I’m married to, damn it!” Frustrated, Gintoki jabs his pointer at the man’s well-built chest, only to realize what just he said and immediately rephrases his statement to, “Or should  I say the female version of you.” and awkwardly pulls back his hand. “And now, suddenly she looks like Arnold Schwarzenegger and I’ve no fucking idea how or when it happened! I don’t even have any evidence to prove myself in this…this crazy situation and damn it, this all sounds so ridiculous!”

Silence follows and the two men stare at each other, one giving an extremely baffled look while the other groans in embarrassment. This is not going anywhere.

Covering his face his hands, Gintoki breaths out a long, exhausted sigh. “Listen, I think I need to clear my head. Can you just…go?”

The man doesn’t reply for another few seconds. Perhaps, he’ll just leave him alone now.

“….I’m not going anywhere.”

Gintoki’s ears perk up. Did he really just..?

“And I think it’s better if we talk properly.”

Finally, he looks back at the man’s earnest face. “Eh?”

“Let’s get outside.” His said wife suggests and turns to walk down the stairs. “I think you should tell me what exactly happened. Maybe that can help you clear your head.”

“You believe me?” Gintoki calls out, baffled at how serious he sounds.

“Not completely.” Tsukuo looks back as he steps down the last stair. “But I do know you’re not lying.”

*****

Tsukuo is popular, just like his wife. Very popular.

But fun fact, unlike Tsukuyo, who makes every other lecher look the other way with her intimidating glares, Tsukuo doesn’t seem to mind all these flirtatious wink and compliments that keeps coming at him from the opposite gender.

“You seem to have quite a huge fanbase in Edo.” Gintoki inquires. The two has been walking down the streets of Kabukichou for quite a few minutes now and the extra attention the tanned man keeps garnering is making the silver-haired samurai a little distressed.

“Well, can you blame them?” Tsukuo looks at him, smirking proudly.

“No.” Gintoki shrugs, glancing at another group of women eying Tsukuo, who literally has the body and face of a Greek god. “But I never thought you’d enjoy so much attention.”

“I don’t exactly.” The man casually replies. “But when someone wants to talk and spend time with me, I can’t just say no to them.”

“And you just said the typical playboy line. How convenient.” Gintoki mumbles, not audible enough for the man beside him to hear. He remembers the first time when he met this version of Tsukuyo back in chapter 441 in the Dekkobokko arc. To watch the serious, tsundere woman suddenly turn into a player who shamelessly flirted with his female version was such a shocker.

“Flowers have no beauty nor ugliness. If such a thing does exist, then it’s in the looks of a man that cannot admire both equally.”

“HEY, WHO IS THIS GUY!? A VIRGIN WOMAN SUDDENLY TURNED INTO A PLAYER!!!”

Gintoki lets out a sigh. Even though back then such a thing happened, the situation was, more or less, temporary. Tsukuyo’s sudden personality change was only limited to that one arc. However, from what he has come to understand here, this Tsukuo has always been…Tsukuo. Sneaking a glance at the man, he again finds him smile at another woman on the sideways who flushes bright red and shyly hides her face behind her palms.

‘Yup, this is not Tsukuyo…’

After another few minutes of silence, Tsukuo asks. “So, you were saying I’m your wife?”

“No. I’m saying my wife got replaced by you.” Gintoki replies bluntly.

Unnoticed, the man rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Do you remember what exactly happened?”

“What do you mean what exactly happened? I was on my way to meet my wife, but then I see you and suddenly everybody has forgotten about Tsukuyo and our marriage.”

“Yeah, you already said that. But I’m asking did something happen when you were on your way?”

Gintoki knits his eyebrows. “…Huh?”

“Did you meet any…shady fortune teller on your way?” Tsukuo inquires seriously, glancing at him.

“Umm..nope.” Comes his honest answer.

“Then did you inhale or drink something strange before?”

“Nooo….”

“Then what about the headaches you were getting?”

“Most probably because of stress. What about it?”

Tsukuo shrugs. “I don’t know. I thought maybe it’s some sort of a side-effect of some ‘magic spell’ you’ve been put into?”

“This doesn’t make any sense, you know.” Gintoki scowls at his absurd speculations.

“Well, this is Gintama. Remember when the animation staff decided to freeze you for an entire episode due to budget issues?” Tsukuo points casually.

“Yeah, I do remember tha-“

“Plus, this is a poorly written fanfi-“

“Please don’t mention the obvious to our readers so casually. It can ruin their reading experience.”

Tsukuo sighs. “So, nothing out of ordinary happened?”

“No.” Except for his horoscope coming true which he cannot tell him.

“Tsk. That’s a very cheap way to move the plot though.”

“Would you stop being fussy about the plot already?”

“I was just pointing out the errors.” Tsukuo says as a matter of fact.

“You’re starting to sound like Onishi-kun now.”

Tsukuo grumbles. “Fine, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Even like this, the nitpicky and logical side of her is still clearly there. And a part of him feels happy that it is there. As the two continue to stroll around the streets of Edo, Gintoki finds his lips curl upward for the first time in the last few hours, unaware of the blond man looking at him with him own small smile.

*****

The afternoon heat is now replaced by the breezy evening evening as the two make their way to a public park.  Gintoki has no idea why they are still hanging out together. Or why Tsukuo still hasn’t left for work? Or why they are suddenly in a park and why does it feel like a date? Well, obviously he does not mind spending time with him – it’s actually quite refreshing – but still, Tsukuyo has always been a busy woman, a workaholic who doesn’t leave her duties behind, so, shouldn’t Tsukuo be like that too?

“Why’re we here?” Gintoki asks as he watches Tsukuo taking a seat on a nearby bench and stretches out.

Tsukuo, to his question, gives him a blank stare. “Because I’m tired of walking.”

“You aren’t even wearing any heels!” Gintoki frowns, pointing at his zori. “Tsukuyo can jump twenty buildings on her four-inch heeled leather boots and won’t even beat a sweat.”

Listening to his sudden proud comment about his wife, Tsukuo gives an amused smile. “Oh, that sounds interesting. That’s what I expect from the female me.” He gives himself a few pats on his shoulders.

Gintoki scoffs at his prideful gesture. “You’ve no idea how she’s like.”

Scooting a little to the side, Tsukuo taps on the empty seat right to him. “Wanna tell me how she’s like then?”

There is a moment of silence between the two before Gintoki walks towards the bench. “Oh, she’s just…amazing.” Taking a seat beside him, he grins widely, suddenly at a loss of words to describe his wife. “Sometimes even I end up thinking how I landed a woman like her.”

“You sound like a love-sick puppy.” Tsukuo chortles lightly.

“Well, I am a lucky man.” Gintoki shrugs, surprisingly unabashed by Tsukuo’s previous remark. There is a familiar sense of security in his company even though the man is the very much different from the woman he has fallen for.

“Well, you did marry me. Of course, that makes you a lucky man.”

His cocky response made Gintoki scoff in dismay. The moment he was starting to think they were a little alike, Tsukuo once again made him rethink his words.

“I didn’t marry a smug bastard. She’s the complete opposite of you.” Gintoki proudly replies, ready to explain his point. “Beautiful, serious, workaholic and definitely not a flirt - that woman can kill a lecher just by looking at him her venomous stare. And she’s called the Shinigami Tayuu in Yoshiwara. Well, formally, but you get how scary she is by that name. Hell, even I once became a victim of her wrath for ‘accidentally’ groping her before we started going out. Fortunately, she didn’t kill me then….”

Memories of the time flash in his mind as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Actually, it was my fault so I really can’t blame her….There’s always been so much more. She’s always been so strong and kind and…so different from me. Someone that I thought a broke man like me could never have. But she still stayed…right there with me….That’s what made me fall for her.”

“…You really love talking about her, don’t you?” Tsukuo asks, smiling at the man.

Gintoki sighs, smirking proudly. “Boasting about my wife once in a while isn’t bad.”

Soon, silence falls between them. Without having any idea of the kind of face the man sitting beside him is making, Gintoki lets his eyes stay fixated on the bushes right across their seat. For some reason, he has been rambling quite a lot today. Was he always this chatty? No, as far as he can remember, he was not. Probably, it’s the heavy feeling in his chest that’s making him so talkative.

“…and, who proposed first?” Tsukuo first breaks the silence.

This catches the silver-haired samurai’s attention.

“Of course, I did.” Gintoki replies, turning to see the man giving him a shocked look that made his eye twitch. “Oi, don’t gimme that look! I saved for the ring!”

At this, Tsukuo gives him an impressed smile. “Who’d have thought, Sakata Gintoki would become such a hopeless romantic for his precious wife?”

This time, the playfulness in his voice makes Gintoki grunt in embarrassment but he chooses to answer anyway. “For her, it’s worth it.”

“Umm-hmm. But I’m pretty sure she made most of payment during the wedding.” Tsukuo cleverly remarks.

Gintoki sighs, nodding in agreement. “Yes. Yes, she did.”

Sneaking a glance at the blond man, Gintoki finds the blond blankly gazing up at the sky, a small smile adoring his lips as he closes his eyes and breathes heavily. Albeit all the striking differences, he couldn’t help but find a sense of secrecy surrounding him, much like her. And right now, his serene expression reminds him of the way she would sometimes get lost in her thoughts.

“Missing her?” Tsukuo asks after a moment of silence.

Upon hearing the question, Gintoki sadly smiles. “Of course…Plus, we haven’t been spending much time together recently because of her work so….yeah.”

“…you still don’t know what’s going on?”

“Nope. But my horoscope did say it’s gonna be a strange day.” Gintoki confesses as a dry laugh escapes his lips. However, Tsukuo doesn’t inquire him any further.

Suddenly, a sense of uneasiness envelops Gintoki. He quietly watches the kids run back to their homes while the sky now appears to be painted in a deep shade of orange, the sun slowly disappearing in the broad horizon. It is strange how everything seems so normal to everyone but him; everything here feels like a strange dream he is unable to wake up from.

For the last few hours, being in Tsukuo’s company didn’t make him feel lonely in any manner. No matter how different he is here, there is a sense of peace in with him.

However, this is not his reality. This is not the place he belongs to. And this person, at the end, does not have any feelings for him.

“I think I should go back.” Standing up from his seat, Gintoki decides to take his leave. A part of him fears if he stays any longer, he would forever remain stuck here.

As he walks away, Tsukuo call out to him. “Oi, where are you going?”

Gintoki can hear his footsteps now. “Home. And I’m hungry.” He replies without turning back.

This still doesn’t stop the man from following him. “How about you come with me to Yoshiwara? It’s better than staying up like some loner in your little house.”

This time, Gintoki turns around, skeptically looking at him. “Don’t you have work?”

“Nope.” Tsukuo shrugs and walks to him. “Hinowa told me to take the day off.”

Well, that kinda hurt. He didn’t even come on his own accord, that’s how bland their relationship seems now.

“Well. You’re free to return back to work, then.” Gintoki waves his hand dismissively, ready to leave again.

“There’s a new izakaya.” His immediate response stops Gintoki on his tracks as he hears his stomach growl hungrily. “My treat.”

*****

By the time the two reached Yoshiwara, it has already turned dark outside as the full moon shone brightly above, illuminating the night sky. The streets appear busier than it was during the afternoon as the two make their way to. But before that, Gintoki gets to hear all the Tsukuo fangirls welcoming him back to Yoshiwara after his oh so long, tiresome day. Damn, nobody even bats an eye on the Savior of Yoshiwara anymore.

“Tsukuo-sama, how about you spend your night with me?”

“There’s a new kimono I received, I’d love~ to show it to you~”

“But I wanted to serve you sake and enjoy watching the full moon with you~”

Damn it, he hated how Tsukuo is like a chic magnet. Yes, the man is handsome and of course, he cannot blame the ladies for being smitten over him but he has been seeing since the afternoon and now all these flirty gestures are starting to get on his nerves. First, he brings him here – basically bribes him with free food - and then, pulls off this shit!

Picking up his pace, Gintoki makes his way through the crowd, leaving Tsukuo behind. If that blondie is going to take his sweet time with his precious ladies, he might as well search for this new bar and get something to eat all by himself.

“Oh Gin-san!” A familiar voice call for him. His mind was so delved into Tsukuo’s apparent bachelor life that he forgot to notice he was passing by the teahouse. “Are you doing okay? ” Hinowa asks sweetly, walking towards him.

“Um…yeah. I’m-I’m fine. That was- I was asking those questions f-for a friend of mine. Sorry for leaving like that.” Gintoki nervously chuckles, scratching his head. It’s better if he just stay quite instead of bombarding her with another set of ridiculous questions like before.

“I see. That’s good to hear. I was worried.” The rave-haired woman politely smiles.

“Um, yeah. Tsukuo mentioned.” There is a hint of disappointment in his voice as his eyes fall on the dusty street. “But you didn’t need to tell him to take day off for me.”

“Oh, but he was way more worried than me. At first, he just simply went back to work when you left. But I could tell how much he was worried.” Hinowa instantly replies, catching Gintoki’s attention. “You know how that man is. Always working and acting like he doesn’t care when he actually does.”

Baffled, Gintoki looks back up to find the woman giving him her signature smile. “You mean-”

“AHHH HINOWA!” The loud voice quickly interrupts their little chat as Gintoki finds a heavy arm casually crash around his shoulders, making the poor man wince. “I’m treating this dude for dinner at Sato-san’s place.” Tsukuo fakes an excited grin.

Not noticing the slight blush on Tsukuo’s face in the dim light, Hinowa beams excitedly. “Oh, that’s great! Their bar is right around the corner. You must taste their kushiyaki, Gin-san -- Tsukuo, don’t forget!”

“Yes ma’am!” Tsukuo obediently notes and starts dragging Gintoki by his neck. “Now let’s get you something to eat!”

“I can walk on my own, damn it!” Comes Gintoki’s grumbling as he frees himself from Tsukuo’s death grip.

“Yeah, yeah, ojii-san.”

“Who’re ya calling ojii-san, bastard!?”

As the two continue their banter on the way, Hinowa lets out a chuckle, waving at them. “Enjoy you two!”

A few moments later, the two enter the new izakaya which appears quite crowded due to its growing popularity. The interior seems to be pretty much similar to Otose’s snack bar – with a bar counter stretching to their right and a few dining tables to their left with customers enjoying their meal – the lively atmosphere feels refreshing. But what catches Gintoki’s interest is a savory aroma of grilled meat around the room that almost made his mouth water.

Walking up to the bar counter, Gintoki takes a seat on one of the stools with Tsukuo sitting beside him. He watches the man take his kimono off and place it on lap, exposing his well-toned biceps that can make every man in the bar look away in envy. Yes, even him.

“Ojii-san, two beef kushiyaki and one sake.” Tsukuo signals the old man behind the counter who quickly responds with a “Coming right up!” with a big smile.

Gintoki gives him a surprised look. “You don’t drink?”

“Nope. Never have.” Tsukuo honestly replies. “Does Tsukuyo?”

“Oh, yes! She loves drinking.” the silver-haired samurai exclaims, remembering all the times when they trashed countless bars together after getting wasted. “But that woman is terrible at handling her liquor.”

This catches his interest. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Gintoki shivers at the thought of his drunken wife’s face. “Give her one drop of alcohol and she turns into a savage beast! I got my head smashed by a bottle of sake when we first had a drink together.”

Tsukuo lets out a chortle. “Damn, I guess it’s better for me to not drink then.”

“Good choice. I call her ‘the drunk terminator’.” Gintoki proudly declares the infamous nickname he once gave to his lovely wife.

The old man places their order in front of them to which Tsukuo gives him a generous nod before turning his attention back to their little chat. “That’s why you called me Arnold Schwarzenegger’s lookalike back when I came to your house.”

Gintoki chuckles and picks a kushiyaki from his place. “Who else am I supposed to compare the brawny male version of my wife with, then?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” With that said, the two dig in to their plates. “Itadakimasu!”.

Taking a bite of the flavorful kushiyaki, Gintoki hums in delight. “This is really good - Ojii-san, I’ll have another of this!”

“You really don’t say no to free food, do you?” Tsukuo shakes his head, not surprised by this habit of his at all.

“Well, you offered.” Gintoki slyly replies with a mouthful to which Tsukuo feels his lips curl.

The two then continue to eat in silence, with Gintoki sneaking a few glances at the distracted man who now has again started smoking from his kiseru after the old man offered his an ashtray. Something about this entire day feels off and yet, with him, he felt at ease. Still does, actually. Perhaps, it’s because Tsukuo’s the only one who knows about his condition. Or perhaps, he’s just trying to deny the fact that he’s, at the end, the same person deep down inside that he has always felt at ease with.

Gintoki recalls the horoscope news– your love will be tested – that’s what it said. Maybe, now he understands what the test really means. But to say it out loud to him; wouldn’t that make things awkward? Because, at the end, this Tsukuyo has no reminisce of the things they have shared together…And the last things he wants to be called is a creep by his own wife.

‘Just talk to him, damn it!’ Slapping himself inside his head, Gintoki pours a glass of sake for himself and chugs it down in one go, loudly exhaling at how unusually strong it tastes. However, before he could bring up the subject, he watches a middle-aged woman wearing a lavish kimono walk to their direction.

“Tsukuo-san, I didn’t expect you to be here.” The woman stands to his right, her silky tone didn’t going unnoticed by Gintoki as she casually puts a hand on Tsukuo’s shoulder.

Something inside Gintoki catches fire.

“Oh, Kirishima-san, what brings you here?” Standing up from his seat, Tsukuo places his kimo and generously greets the lady who, not so surprisingly, reminds Gintoki of a jorogumo. What about personal space- she even has the audacity to stand so damn close to him.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” The said sophisticated Kirishima-san replies as she coyly places a hand on his chest. “You haven’t been here the whole day, I was looking for you.”

Gintoki chugs down another cup, the burning sensation in his body no longer because of the alcohol.

“Oh, um, I’ve been a little busy.” Tsukuo nervously glances at Gintoki who seems to have been declared invisible by the woman while he continues to drink his sake. He looks furious. “Is there something that you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, yes. Regarding the donation work.” Kirishima-san says courteously. “If it’s okay, would you like to come outside for a little?”

“Ah, yes, I almost forgot about it.” Tsukuo apologetically says as he escorts the vixen-like lady outside of the bar. Whether it’s just work or not, this Kirishima-lady definitely has ulterior motives.

From the corner of his eyes, Gintoki watches the two chat about something that’s pretty much inaudible to him. The woman says something and Tsukuo nods. Then Tsukuo says something and the woman flirtatiously giggles. From this little view, he could say how badly she wants to get into his pants. However, he feels his blood boil when the woman starts to seductively rub her hand over his left exposed arm, as if he’s her little plaything. And Tsukuo doesn’t seem to mind at all!

‘Hah! He really is a player!’ Immediately, Gintoki looks away before he could see that Tsukuo has politely taken the woman’s hand off his arm.

Scoffing, he drinks up the rest of the liquor from the bottle, sighing in satisfaction. Again, this wasn’t the first time he is seeing this side of Tsukuo but it would be a lie to say none of it…disturbs him. Not even a slightest. Of course, he understands the two are different and never can he ask the person to be someone else but still, isn’t this the same person? At this point, he really cannot comprehend any of such thoughts. And by now, he can feel the alcohol kick in, making his mind all dizzy and muddled.

“Ya know, Ojii-san, I’ve a wife! She’s jus’ the best in the world!” Gintoki slurs in front of the old man, his mind now all foggy. Never had one bottle of sake been enough for him. But tonight, it’s somehow started to show its effects.

“You are a lucky man, sir.” The old man smiles at him.

“Right~” Gintoki hiccups, a goofy smile now plastered on his flushed face. “And she’s called the Shinigami Tayuu, isn’t that cool!?”

“That’s a very great name, sir.”

“Wanna show me where she is?” Ginotoki giddily whispers, just like a little child who has found lost treasure.

The man politely nods “Of course.”

Directing his thumb outside the door, Gintoki points at the Tsukuo with lopsided grin. “There! That man with the blond hair my wife!”

Hearing his little declaration, the old man laughs rather awkwardly while Gintoki continues to ramble. “Isn’t that funny? Like, she was this really sexy, badass woman before but poof, she’s a sexy, badass man now! And seriously, I don’t ‘ave any problem with tha’. But she doesn’t even remember anything! She doesn’t even love me anymore and is now flirting with other girls!” Slapping the counter loudly, he lets out a dry laugh, making the customers nearby look at his direction.

“Sir, I think you’ve had enough drink today. It’s better if you return back home with Tsukuo-dono.” The old man politely says, now giving him a concerned look as if he is now some drunk who has lost all his senses. Seriously, who was he kidding? There is no chance anyone will ever believe his words. And truthfully, a drunk’s confession is generally considered gibberish.

Exhausted and slightly dizzy, Gintoki stands up from his seat. “That guy will pay.” With that said, he leaves the bar quietly.

*****

Staggering on his feet, Gintoki somehow manages to get out of the flashy and lively streets and enters a dark, deserted alleyway. The full moon shines brightly above him, fortunately enough for him to not lose his steps and stumble down on his face like some cheap, homeless drunk. His head aches and at this moment where he has no solution to whatever-this-is, giving up seems like the only option.

“Oi, Gintoki!” The familiar voice call to him…yet again. And just like this afternoon, he wants to avoid it.

“Will ya just wait!?” Tsukuo yells again, his breathing heavy as Gintoki finally stops at his place and faces him.

“…What do ya want?”

“Why did you leave like that?” Tsukuo asks, slowly walking closer to him.

“You seemed busy with the pretty lady so I left.” Comes his cold response, making Tsukuo stop just a few steps away from him.

Gintoki expected a cocky laugh. Instead he finds Tsukuo gravely looking at his direction.

“…it was work. Really.”

Oh yeah, sure it was work. It’s always work. Whether it’s in here or there, it’s always work! And goddamn it, he was so tired of listening. All he has been trying to do for the last few weeks is to be a good, supportive husband who does not nag his wife for overworking or not spending enough time with him. If he’s being honest, he was angry, really angry at everything. But the moment he tries to make things better, some stupid horoscope predictions decides to test his affection for his wife and now, he’s stuck here with an alternate version of his wife.

Despite all this, he decides to stay quite again. No way is he going for another round of ranting session. Exhaling sharply, Gintoki rubs his temple again. “You know what, instead of doing all this, I should be looking for a way out. But for some dumbass reason, I ended up spending the entire day with you and watched you smug ass getting constantly flocked by your fangirls who you just shamelessly flirt with while I’m constantly reminded that you are not the person I love when I know it’s not true!”

….He failed. He ended up rambling again.

And so to calm himself, Gintoki breathes in. A long, deep breathe. While the man standing in front of him freezes on spot, dumbfounded and speechless.

“…were you jealous?” Tsukuo finally finds his voice back and carefully takes a step forward.

“Of course I was jealous!” The permhead finally admits.

“Why?” And another step forward…

Gintoki scoffs. “Really? You’re asking me ‘why’?”

“Yes.” And another…

He sighs loudly. “Because I love you.”  And Tsukuo smiles.

“Even when you are this flirty, cocky man! Even when you don’t remember a thing about us! Even when I know that you don’t love me here! Because whether you’re Tsukuo or Tsukuyo, deep down, I know it’s you. It will always be you. The same person that I happily devoted my heart to and there’s nothing that I ever want to cha-“

Before Gintoki can finish, Tsukuo’s presses his lips against his, shutting him up in an instant. And Gintoki freezes on his spot, his hands awkwardly dangling around his sides while his eyes widen in surprise. There is nothing too fierce and hungry about the kiss; it feels like the ones they always share after waking up, chaste and full of love. Slowly, Gintoki closes his eyes and returns the kiss back with the same favor as his. Unlike the soft and pink ones, his lips are slightly chapped. And yet, the taste and smell of smoke he has so gotten used to is enough to tell him that yes, he’s kissing the right person.

Shortly later, the two pull back. Panting, Tsukuo puts his head on Gintoki’s shoulder, hiding his now flushed face as they silently stand there, savoring this little moment.

“It’s good to hear that you still love me.” Tsukuo is the first one to break the silence, his voice a little muffled.

‘Still?’ Gintoki knits his brows, confused as he recalls the strange horoscope predication.

“Guess I’m bound to fall for you no matter what.” He can hear the relief in his voice as Tsukuo slowly raises his head. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

The test, this strange world…His smile said everything. “You knew…?”

Tsukuo doesn’t answer his question. Instead, he just lovingly smiles at him and says something else as Gintoki feels his vision get blurry, his face slowly disappearing before him as his voice gets replaced by the one he has been hearing for years.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. I’ve got something to tell you.”

*****

The stiff sofa cushion has made his back ache painfully as Gintoki slowly sits up, stretching his arms and legs to loosen up his sore muscles. Sluggishly, he scans the surrounding to find the bulb above him glowing and outside the window, its pitch black, suggesting its night by now. He doesn’t even remember when he fell asleep. The TV is right around the corner as always and so is the little shelf. And there are two frames kept there- one of the Yororzuya and the other of his wedding day…

“You’re awake.” His eyes snap open at the familiar….and feminine voice of his wife who emerges from their bedroom right behind him. Turing around, he finds Tsukuyo walk up to him with her nightgown on.

In an instant, Gintoki jumps up from his seat and rushes to his wife, embraces her in a tight hug and almost making her lose balance. “OhmyGod, Gintoki! What’re you doing?”

Even her yelp didn’t make his huge grin disappear as he held his wife close, breathing in her freshly bathed scent. “I missed you!”

“H-huh? W-what’s the matter?” His sudden confession made the woman turn a deep shade of pink.

Pulling back from the hug, he lovingly presses his lips against hers. “I’m saying I missed you, woman!”

Watching the joyous smile on her husband’s face, Tsukuyo feels her lips curl up too as she caresses his cheeks affectionately. “I missed you too, you foolish man.”

“I just had the strangest dream ever. All just to see that no matter what or who you are, I will always end up falling for you.” Placing a hand on her heart, Gintoki looks at the love of his life with the brightest smile on his face. “It practically called you my soulmate.”

Hearing this, Tsukuyo lovingly holds her husband’s face in her palms, her amethyst eyes and soft voice entrancing him for the rest of his life. “Soulmate or not, I’ll always fall for you, too. No matter what.”

This makes the man exhale a sigh of relief. “I love you.” Gintoki says and leans in to touch his forehead with hers.

“I love you, too. And I’m sorry I couldn’t spend time with you for the last couple of weeks. You even came to meet me today but I couldn’t make it.” Tsukuyo apologetically says and closes her eye, finding comfort in his embrace.

Instead of asking when he went to meet her, Gintoki gently presses a kiss on her forehead and looks back at her. “Don’t apologize. Just…don’t overwork yourself, okay? And take a break. I was thinking of keeping it a surprise but let’s go somewhere for anniversary, on a trip.”

To his offer, Tsukuyo happily hums in response. “Okay. Let’s go.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him for a hug which he happily accepts.

Gintoki doesn’t remember what exactly happened here; the dream is only that he has memories of. And yet, there is a part of him that knows that wasn’t just a dream. However, instead of pondering about the past, he’d rather live in the present. After all, he deserves this moment of happiness his wife after getting his mind bombarded by a strange ‘test’.

“By the way, I think I’ll have to take a longer break.”

At this, Gintoki pulls back a little, slightly confused. “Huh?”

Looking down, he watches Tsukuyo take his hand off her waist and slowly bring it to her belly while Gintoki looks back up at her, astonished and completely speechless.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a father again, Sakata-san.” Watching the sexy smirk adoring her beautiful face, Gintoki feels his face go from surprised to purely ecstatic. And in an instant, he sweeps her off her feet, spinning her around in exhilarating joy while Tsukuyo giggles warmly in his arms.

“WE’RE GONNA PARENTS SOON!”

“Hahahaha! Gintoki, stop it!”

“WE’RE GONNA BE PARENTS SOON , BABY!”

“Yes, yes! I know! Now put me down!”

In between their giggles and joyous laughs, the two stop midway in their little celebration as Gintoki carefully brings the woman down. His wide, goofy grin never leaves his face and he once again presses his lips against hers, which she wholeheartedly returns. No way can he ever explain how happy he is now. After years of running away, after years of calling himself unworthy of love, he finally found someone who now shares her life with him. And never in this lifetime or any other, would he like to change that.

“Thank you for making me the luckiest man in the world.”

[y0itsbri]

🍺, 🧑🏻‍🦰, 😠

benja! hello! thank you for the ask! 💘💘 (sorry these got kinda (very) long and some more fic-ish than hc-ish but i had fun with it)

🍺 - drunk headcanon

lately, debbie has been flooding the gallagher fam groupchat with pictures of cocktails and mixed drinks that she's been trying from the new lesbian bar she's been going to. carl tells her no one gives a shit, but she just tells him to fuck off. ian always sends a thumbs up emoji in response to the photos.

"wonder what's in that one," mickey pondered from their couch, zooming into the most recent picture like somehow the ingredients were written on an ice cube.

"looks like 1.5 oz empress gin, 4 oz ginger beer, juice of 1/2 a lime, 1/4 oz monin desert pear syrup, and mint, for garnish, of course," ian confidently rattled off.

mickey's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, "the fuck are you? the lesbian drink whisperer?"

ian chuckled at the accusation, "found the recipe on pinterest. 's something called the prickly pear gin buck."

"on penny trust what now?"

"pinterest -- a website where you pin your interests," ian smirked like he was the most clever motherfucker on the planet.

"alright, fuckin' martha stewart over here."

"wanna make it sometime?"

"make what?"

"the 'lesbian' drink."

"nah, man, too fuckin' fruity and won't even get me drunk."

"yeah, well we're fucking fruity, mick."

mickey sent ian a death glare.

ian threw his hands up in mock surrender and a teasing glint, "alright, alright, but you like it sweet, so i bet you'd like it."

"yeah, i like your sweet ass alright, c'mere, dork."

--

"hey, mick, look what i got!"

"more toothpaste?"

"shit! i knew i was forgetting something... but, uh, no, i splurged on some things to make that drink debs sent that week."

ian looked so damn excited about this, he couldn't even make fun of him.

"double the gin. if i'm drinking it, i better get buzzed."

"done."

"and you're not tellin' fuckin' anyone about this."

ian paused too long.

"gallagher," mickey said sternly. gallagher. he wasn't messing around.

"aaaanyways, let's get it cookin', good lookin'."

-

for all it was worth, it was fucking delicious and mickey got more than a little buzzed. he woke up the next morning... or afternoon rather, with several notifications from the gallagher groupchat.

shit. he was gonna fuckin' murder ian.

ian had sent an artistic photo of the purplish drink topped with a mint garnish and another of mickey, blissfully unaware of the photo being taken while sipping his second? third? drink, cradling it dear.

deb: looks great guys! so good, right! 🥂

lip: mickey sure seems to think so huh? ;)

liam: mickey's gonna kill you for this, ian

carl: rip fly high bro 💀🕊️

-

despite the teasing from his brother-in-laws, mickey really did enjoy the drink and the excitement ian had putting it all together. debbie, ian, and mickey all start a new groupchat called 'gallabitches getting tipsy🍹' where they share all their new recipes without judgement. they later added tami to the group, not being able to drink during her pregnancy, but living vicariously through them.

👨‍🦰 - ian is tall and likes to manhandle headcanon

the only cabinet in the kitchen that's tall enough for their boxes of cereal is above the refrigerator. this is, of course, no problem to ian who is practically eye level with it. mickey, however, has a little more difficulty.

he thought he was alone in the kitchen, he had left ian finishing getting ready in the bathroom, when he wanted the goddamn lucky charms.

mickey ungracefully climbed on top of the countertop and acquired the beloved box of sugary cereal. right then, he noticed he'd been caught -- ian leaning against the kitchen wall, amused as all hell.

ian stalked over, "can't reach, baby?"

"got it just fine, thanks." but mickey didn't make any effort to get down.

"hey, you're finally taller than me, never thought i'd see the day."

"fuck off."

"hmmm, dunno if i like this," ian said, looking up at mickey, "might have to do something about it."

"yeah? whatcha gonna do about it, big guy?"

in a swift motion, ian nudged mickey's legs apart a bit and held them on either side of him. mickey threw the box of cereal god knows where, fuck the cereal, and complied, wrapping his legs around ian's torso and his arms around ian's neck.

"oh, you'll see."

😠 - jealous headcanon (also hi @gardenerian , here's a little bit of gardener ian content for you🍅)

ian starts bonding with one of his neighbors about their plants in the community garden at their apartment. mickey was totally on board with ian's rants about his tomatoes and peppers, but all mickey can hear lately is julie this and julie that.

-

"julie bought this new fertilizer for me to use on my plot! she said it'll double the amount of tomatoes we get this year!"

"fuckin' great."

ian frowned, "i thought you were excited about the garden."

"i am."

"then why doesn't it sound like that?"

"julie just sounds like she likes you a bit too much is all."

"julie?"

"yeah, man, buyin' you shit, now. why doesn't fucking julie just suck your dick while she's at it?"

"what the fuck are you going on about now, mick?"

"you don't even wear your ring down there! i bet the bitch is just trynna get in your pants."

"mickey."

"no, it's cool, i get it, whatever."

"mickey. i don't wanna lose the ring in all the fuckin' dirt, but i promise julie knows all about you -- about us."

"yeah?"

"of course," ian crowded mickey's space a bit, judging how much his husband was really mad at him. he tilted his head down, "come down there with me next sunday, yeah? there's nothing to worry about."

mickey considered for a moment. he would love to size the bitch up, even if he had to wake up a bit earlier.

"fine."

"mmmm, good."

--

the following sunday, true to plan, mickey followed ian down to his garden plot. he'd been down here before, of course, but never early enough to chat with julie. he couldn't see her now, though, just some white-haired old lady in a big hat with an orange cat perched on her lap.

"ian, darling, good morning!"

"hey julie, good to see you!" ian said smiling as he crouched down to pet the cat's head, "you too, george." the cat purred against his hand.

oh.

"this is my husband, mickey. he was finally up early this morning, so i made him tag along."

"oh, what a pleasure, dear," julie smiled warmly, "i've heard so much about you."

"uh, yeah, ditto." mickey definitely didn't expect this -- she was genuinely sweet. she kind of reminded him of his great aunt back in ukraine.

"remind me to give you boys my new recipe for lemon tarts..." she trailed off.

mickey sat himself on a red modern-style chair as the two chatted the latest drama of some pests on antonio's plants and how sarah hadn't been out in weeks to water.

julie nudged the cat off her lap as she gestured for ian to follow her to one of the flower beds. george made his way over to where mickey was sitting.

"they're some of the good ones, huh?" mickey addressed the cat.

george slow blinked in return as he flopped over on the pavement.

they basked in the early morning sun, watching ian water both his plot and julie's as they laughed about something he couldn't hear.

he smiled. he could get used to sunday mornings like this.

[brilliantt]

Gangster in Distress

Summary: Tommy was only interested in Y/N to seal a deal with her father. He thought she was a spoilt, rich girl... until a mishap with some thieves makes Tommy reconsider.  

A/N: I just rewatched the movie Ever After with Drew Barrymore and let’s just say it heavily inspired this fic....

It was often that Tommy would sacrifice his own family to ensure a deal or stop a war. A key example being when he convinced John to marry Esme, preventing a battle with the Lee family. Tommy was rather good at pushing his family to the forefront of his problems. Now though? Now it was Tommy’s turn. 

Tommy desired to extend his gin business through London and beyond. The only issue being a Mr Walter Brown. Mr Brown ran an immensely successful distillery in the heart of London and Tommy knew striking a deal with him was his only route to a new found fortune. He had met with the man once at his home, the house exceeding even Tommy’s manor. They had spent a long time coming to a suitable deal. The man had no need for money nor protection, although Tommy tried to persuade him. It was a lost cause; the man’s fine suit and multiple men lingering by the door could have told him that. There was nothing the Peaky Blinders could offer him that he didn't already have, Tommy still persisted.

The meeting had lasted three hours before Tommy watched the man stand up and glance out the window behind him, the view obscured from Tommy. Mr Brown rubbed his white moustache and sighed, resting his gaze back on Tommy. He explained to him that he had a daughter who he wished to see married, and to a financially secure man. Of course Arthur and John were out of the question and Finn was too young for the woman. This left Tommy to take the bullet. It certainly felt like a bullet when the daughter had slammed the door, storming out of her father’s study just after she was told the news. Perhaps it would be for the best, he would have some company and Charlie a mother figure. Not forgetting their union would make Tommy very rich. 

The deal was settled and they would be married the next month, giving Y/N and Tommy some time to get to know each other. He made frequent trips to London to become acquainted with his bride-to-be, the two of them left alone in one of the parlour rooms. The first few times she had sat like a petulant child, ignoring his attempt at conversation, and not being afraid to tell him what she thought of the arrangement. Her expensive gowns and shiny jewellery reminding him of the two different worlds they came from. It was on the fourth visit when he became impatient and decided to move their relationship forward and to try and seduce her. His hands on her waist and wandering lips warranted a red cheek and a view of Y/N’s back as she huffed out of the room. 

The next time he came, he made sure to bring Charlie. She would have to meet him eventually and he could only hope she wouldn’t bring up his actions with a child in the same room. It was fair to say she much preferred the boy’s company, immediately grinning Charlie and bringing out a story book to share with him. It was this moment where Tommy couldn’t completely resent the arrangement. Charlie liking her was more important than him liking her. And after Y/N had taken him to the stables to meet her horses, Charlie would barely release the woman. It was there where Tommy had attempted to apologise for his behaviour the previous visit (not really because he was sorry, but more to remain on good terms with her father). It was also here that when Y/N had distracted Charlie with her most beautiful mare, told Tommy if he tried anything again she wasn’t afraid to use the hunting gun and shoot it at his unmentionables. 

---

The wedding hadn’t been anything special to Tommy. He had already had his dream wedding with Grace and Y/N had refused to have a big attendance, although this didn't stop her from wearing a very extravagant dress. The ceremony was limited to only Y/N’s father, Charlie and Aunt Polly.  Polly had returned to Birmingham the same afternoon, after their lunch, with Charlie. Mr Brown had retired to his room which left the newly weds alone. Except their anticipated wedding night consisted of Y/N leading Tommy to a guest room and shutting herself into her bedroom. 

Tommy spent the next few days, finalising some business and plans with his new father-in-law, while Y/N was busy packing her bags to move into Tommy’s manor with him and Charlie.

The rain was heavy on the day they were to drive back. Despite still being angry at her father, she gave him a tight hug before rushing into the vehicle, out of the rain. It was a long car journey back to Birmingham and Y/N had taken to sulking with her arms crossed, staring out of the window for the first hour. 

Tommy sighed and pursed his lips, “We should at least try to be civil, you know.” By the look on Y/N’s face, he knew his words would cause them to argue. He didn't care though, arguing would be better than sitting in silence for the rest of the trip. He also couldn’t take another minute of watching the woman fidget in her seat, he knew she was itching to speak.

Y/N kept her gaze out of the window, “You and my father dealt me off like i’m a fucking horse. I don’t have to be nice to you.” 

Tommy clenched his jaw, feeling desperate for a cigarette. ”Your father wanted what was best for you.” He heard Y/N let out an amused huff.

“Oh and you’re my knight in shining armour? Lucky me.” Tommy turned to look at her before focusing back on the road. He chose not to say anything, “I don't even see why I had to marry in the first place. I was fine staying with my father.’”

This time Tommy felt amused, “Hmm and doing what exactly? Perching on your little pedestal and looking pretty?" He hid his smirk when Y/N turned to look at him with an annoyed expression. He quite liked riling her up. 

“I’m not just some spoiled little girl, so stop treating me like one.” She crossed her arms again and huffed.

“If you didn’t act like one, perhaps I wouldn’t treat you like one.” Tommy retorted.

"Your perception of women is abhorrent. Just because I'm pretty and like to dress nicely, does not mean you can belittle me. And if you continue to do so, we are going to have problems." Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Besides, you ought to tread carefully, you are looking at the future owner of the Brown distillery. My father may have made a deal with you that doesn't mean i can't change it when i'm in charge."

Tommy felt a smile growing on his face, "You would deny your own husband?" It widened when all Y/N did was smirk at him. The silence grew again before Tommy asked, "You think you can handle running the business?"

Y/N smoothed down her hair that had gone fluffy from the rain, "You may think i just sit around, but I am very much involved in the distillery. I'm more than capable of running the business."

Tommy quickly glanced at her again, finding a sense of respect he didn't expect to feel. 

When Tommy didn’t reply, Y/N scrunched her nose up, "I do hope you're not a husband who will deny me of such a job.” Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Good, because I wouldn't have listened anyway."

"And what shouldn't a husband deny you of?" Tommy questioned in a teasing tone.

"Hmm,” Y/N grinned. “A good husband should let me do exactly as I please. He will let me work, go to the market, run through the garden without shoes, gallop through the field on a horse, or do absolutely nothing all day."

"And, what about a good wife?"

Y/N stroked her chin in thought and looked at Tommy "Well, I guess that's for you to decide."

Tommy didn’t answer her. "You like horses?" He said a few moments later. 

"Love.” Y/N smiled and looked out the window dreamily, the rain still hitting the window. “I grew up with my grandparents in the countryside, they were from my mum's side, who, well, were not rich like my dad’s. We spent all our time on the farm and from the moment I first laid my eyes on the beautiful horses, that was it."

Tommy smirked, "So the city girl is actually a farm girl?" Y/N’s response was a roll of the eyes.  "The horses you showed Charlie were incredible." His words seemed to divert Y/N back into her bratty state, she crossed her arms again and glared at the man, raising an eyebrow at him. "And I had to leave them behind."

Before Tommy could respond, the car jolted. He lost control for a moment before managing to stop the car. Trees surrounded the pair and Tommy recognised the road built through the forest. He wasted no time to jump out and check each wheel, finding the problem on Y/N’s side, a small hole visible. Y/N rolled down the window, "What happened?”

"The tyres burst, I must have hit a stone or something." He stood back up wiping down his suit. "Come on." He opened the door to her side and gestured for her to get out. 

"What?"

"The house isn't far from here, we can go by foot." Y/N looked at him in shock.

"It's raining and muddy!" She made a motion to her dress, to which Tommy rolled his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out, dragging her to the boot of the car. He pulled out one of the smaller luggage bags and pushed it in her arms before looking at her pointedly, "You said you grew up on a farm." 

"Past tense, Thomas!" She huffed and re-positioned the bag, watching Tommy grab the two larger ones. He led them around the car and they walked barely a metre before a man with shoulder length grey hair came out of the trees pointing a gun at the two. "Don't be leaving so quick now." He let out a whistle and more men came from the trees, all with guns. Y/N gulped and raised her hands in the air, subsequently dropping her bag, the contents spilling over the floor. She heard Tommy curse and watched him put the luggage down more carefully than her. 

"Y/N go back in the car." Not having to be told twice she rushed back to the passenger side. Feeling nervous when the men advanced on Tommy, a fist fight, four on one beginning. 

Before she could open the door, one of the men had grabbed her, making her yelp and shove him to the ground. She tried to hit the next man who made a grab for her but he caught her arm and held it behind her back. It took three men to stop her struggling, pulling her to where their leader stood. They held her there, Tommy a few metres opposite her being held in a similar position, a cut on his forehead and a bruised eye. The two watched as the thieves began rifling through Tommy’s car and her luggage on the floor.

One of them held up a rather beautiful, expensive looking dress adorned in jewels. “Excuse me!” Y/N spat, missing Tommy closing his eyes in annoyance. ”That was my mother’s dress, you give that back!” She felt the men tighten their hold on her. The leader smirked and stalked over to her. He lifted one of his ring covered hands and caressed her cheek. "Feisty little thing.” He whispered. 

Tommy began struggling, "Let her go.” He demanded, voice strong but eyes tired. “Your fight is against me not her." Y/N could only then see that the two men knew each other. The man removed his hand and walked closer to Tommy. He relented and told the men to release her.

Y/N pushed her way out of their arms, shivering from the rain and annoyed at the mud tracing up her skirts. She raised her chin to the leader, "I demand that you give me back all of my things. And since you shot through one of the tyres and have my driver captured, a horse for the journey back." All of the men’s eyes widened at her order. The leader titled his head, and grinned sarcastically.

“Princess,” He spread his arms out in front of him, ”You may have anything you can carry." His men chuckled around them. Y/N raised her eyebrows, a devious look in her eyes as she glanced at Tommy, who was staring at her in disbelief. 

“Do I have your word on that, Sir? She asked.

The man bowed his head, “On my honour as a Gypsy.”

Y/N nodded once. She walked past the Gypsy, staring at him as she passed. Walking straight over her clothes on the floor, Y/N  made her way to Tommy, the men who were holding him backing away. She lifted his arm up and bent down, huffing as she lifted her husband across her back. The Gypsy man opened his mouth in shock, watching as Y/N gave him a sarcastic smile and a slight curtsy before making her way down the road, holding Tommy on her back.

A ruckus of laughter erupted from the group of men at the sight. Even the leader couldn't help but laugh loudly at the daring girl. "Come back!” He paused, chuckling, “You may have a horse."

Y/N sat in front of Tommy on the horse as they rode to the manor. He knew that this reckless but incredibly clever woman would cause him a great deal of trouble, he just couldn’t bring himself to resent it anymore.

I can just imagine Y/N telling John this story and Tommy having to kick him out because of all the teasing... 

[nadezhda-wexler]

A Moment In Time, Again and Again

Hello @xoxobuckybarnes, It is I, your Summer Fic Exchange writer for @b99fandomevents.  Thank you for all your amazing prompts, but I ended up choosing “The Squad after ten years”. I really hope you enjoy it.

Also a few points:

 1) The whole story is non-linear. It’s like a series of snapshots. It’s related, but chronologically the don’t really make sense

2) It is smut adjacent? Implied smut? Idk, It’s just a few lines because honestly, it’s my first time writing anything like that

3) There might be some spelling errors and grammatical error, sorry if they put a damper on your experience

4) Thank you @b99fandomevents for giving this chance

5) MOST IMPORTANTLY: I hope you enjoy it.

There were many reasons Amy thought that might bring the squad together- well, mainly one- Scully dying (the man was already decaying when she was in the precinct), but this was not it. In fact, this was the opposite of it.

  She reads the sign again, still wondering if she dreamt it up. But nope. Norm Scully and Cindy Shatz were indeed getting married. 

  Amy walks into her old turf: Shaw’s Bar. She feels like she stepped into another universe, everything is different, but somehow, the same. It’s the place she came to right after her wedding. The stools are different and the bar more worn, but the place still feels warm like her wedding night. The back door leads right to the alley where she once tried to conceive (that was a low point) and judging by the fact the Hitchcock is standing right outside the bathroom with Scully nowhere in sight, she guesses even the bathroom smells (stinks) the same. 

  Her eyes sweep over the room, she can see Rosa and Gina huddles together and she already feels bad for their victim, Holt and Kevin are talking to Terry- it never stops amusing her seeing the very passionate Captain Jeffords squared against impassive Retd Captain Holt and Kevin. Charles is haranguing the caterers, when she hears a voice from behind: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

They had just gotten into the airport- Jake is bringing all their luggage while she is trying to get her children to calm down. While Maya knows everyone in the squad, Mac has lived with them more. So Mac has decided to fill in the blanks. His stories are wild and absolutely untrue and Maya is hanging onto each word. She was looking to see where her husband was when Maya suddenly tugged her hand and asked in wonder “Did Daddy really catch a thief by sending Mac in undercover?” “No. Your daddy never sent Mac undercover because he isn’t a cop and he is a baby”. “Well, I am not a baby and dad did do that, he just didn’t tell you”

 “What didn’t I tell your mom?”Jake joins them, luggage in tow. “That you sent me undercover to catch that thief” “Mac”, Jake says with fake indignation. “You weren’t supposed to tell that. It was our secret”  Mac’s eyes has that same mischievous glint she has seen a million times on her husband’s face as he says he told her to maya and launches into his story. They’re loading their luggage into the cart when Jake’s phone buzzes. “That’s Charles and he has already called me 5 times and messaged me a lot. I stopped counting after 10”, Jake says. “Kids, your Uncle Charles is waiting. You know how he gets when you are late!”, he adds.

  Mac, without any prompt, holds his sister's hands, so as to not lose her, still continuing with the  stories of his feats, she’s sure, without missing a beat. Her heart swells as she watches her kids, Mac being a protective older brother and Maya holding onto his hands and words. Her husband’s hand slips into hers as he asks “You ready to go?” She couldn’t be happier.

"Captain Santiago"

"Captain Holt! Hi!" Apparently even his retirement hasn't made Santiago less flustered. He won't deny there is a part of him that enjoys the reverence. "How was your first year running a precinct, Captain?" He enjoys calling her Captain almost as much as she enjoys hearing it. 

"Great! Super cool. Fantastic. Dope. No diggity no doubt" He briefly wonders if she had a stroke. 

"Okay, you saw right through me. It's not been easy. Manhattan is completely different from Brooklyn. The squad is also new, they all just transferred about a month or two before me. So they don't even know each other so everyone is walking on tiptoes. And they follow everything I say, but don't really see me as a leader."

"Well, the first precinct I ran, I had a detective who only cared about closing cases, everyone in the squad thought I was a robot, my two best detectives had a bet with each other, my Sargent was chained to the desk and the office administrator was Gina and I had Hitchcock and Scully"

"You are right. I shouldn't complain. I don't have a Hitchcock and Scully"

"No. But that was not what I was trying to say. Once I got closer to all of them, I realised that the detective who did not care, cares not just care about closing cases, the bet made both detectives better, my Sargent saved my life, Gina is still Gina and that being a robot doesn't make me a worse Captain. What you need to do Santiago, is trust your squad. You have a unique opportunity to build this team. But you cannot do that without unflinching trust. So trust them. Help them and let them help you. And if you ever feel the need, please do not hesitate to contact me. I might have retired from the force, but not from being your mentor"

"Wow! Thank you so much Captain. That means the world to me." Some people might call Amy Santiago a teacher's pet in an attempt to mock her, but the truth is she is a teacher's pet because she is a brilliant student. She revels in learning and enjoys implementing her knowledge even more. She is a teacher's pet not just because she is adept at brown nosing- which she admittedly does sometimes, but because she will be the student that teachers can one day be proud of. He might tell her this if it did not make her explode and also because Amy Santiago understands him, so he just smiles.

  They had barely reached the terminal before Charles pounced on Jake. Amy and the kids barely had the time to move away from being hit. Genevieve and Amy unload the luggage while the kids catch up. It takes the men one whole minute before they let go. 

  "Genevieve, thank you so much for taking the kids", Amy says.

  "Of course Nikolaj loves hanging out with Mac and Maya. It's my pleasure to watch them."

  "Still, thank you! And Jake-"

  "NO!", Charles almost pushes her down trying to get between Jake and her. "You get him every other day Amy, you cannot poach him away today."

  "Charles, I am not trying to poach him away. I just wanted to tell him to enjoy the night and have fun. Also you visited not three weeks ago and you guys FaceTime constantly."

  "FaceTiming is not the same Amy! It has been 28 days, 14 hours aaand three minutes since I have been covered in Jake's musk"

  “Ugh! Alright", Jake says. "Charles, why don't you take these two bags and load them into the cab while Amy and I bring the rest?"

  "Okay.", Charles says almost defeatedly. "Don't be late."

  Jake turns to her. "So what are your plans again?"

  "I will go to the hotel, have a long bath after which Rosa and Gina will come pick me up for the bachelorette party after which both will crash with me because according to Gina quote if I am going to stand next to you as a bridesmaid, you need to at least be six and you need help with that unquote"

  "I still can't believe Cindy asked you and Gina to be one of the bridesmaids"

  "Well, we did help them get together."

  "Yeah. And as this goes on, I will be with Charles hoping whatever he made is edible and missing you terribly"

  "Stop being a sap Peralta. And have fun tonight"

  "It’s Peralta- Santiago, FYI. And I will 100% have fun, but I'm still gonna miss you. I gotta go before Charles comes back. I love you"

  "I love you too."

   It was a tiring night and Amy just wants to take her makeup off and she really wants to be out of this dress for more than one reason. As much as she loves her kids- and that is a lot- she is glad that they wanted to stay at Holt's place. The kids love their Fauxpas (they are her kids, of course they know what faux pas means and more importantly, when Mac very proudly said it, both Kevin and Holt agreed that "it is a humorous wordplay"). Mac can never get enough of Holt's stories and Maya loves the Classics. She can recite Odyssey from memory. And both of them get away with things that only they (and maybe her husband) can- some stains of orange juice, mud in the house, a few broken glasses- all.of these are forgiven because it's their fauxchildren's doing (it doesn't work as well, but Holt was proud and Maya laughed and so it stuck). And after two days of wedding prep, she really needs a day without being worried about someone breaking something or constantly screaming. And even more than that with the way her husband has been looking at her all night, she really, really needs to be the one screaming. 

   She is halfway through taking off her makeup when Jake, sans jacket, (but with tie and damn, her husband looks fine) walks in. He puts his hand on her waist. "Babe, do you know how hot you look?"

  "Oh is it the running mascara that does it for you?"

  He pulls her in closer and from his look she knows that the screaming she was hoping is definitely happening. He says in a low voice  into her ear, "No. It's you." It's like each word he says vibrates inside her. "You having been driving me crazy all day. You in that blue dress. You knowing exactly how amazing your butt looks in that dress. You taking control when everything was falling apart. It's you Ames who does it for me."

  She turns around and pulls him by the tie and kisses him hard and he's lifting her up onto the counter, kissing every bit of her as he lowers his head between her legs. She thanks the stars that this is her life partner.

  (And later she'll counting the same as Jake twists his wrist in the way that he knows will bring over the edge.)

  Every time Jake sees his wife, he falls in love with her a little more. Which he wouldn't have believed possible sixteen years ago. She hasn't spotted him, so he takes her in for a minute. Every time he steps into Shaw's Bar, he remembers walking in as a newly wed couple. Sure afterwards the evening did take a turn, but until then it was perfect. Except before that when there was a bomb threat and an actual bomb and Teddy proposing like a thousand times. Wow, his wedding day was a mess. But still it was one of the happiest days of his life because even through all that, he was hitched to the most beautiful woman in the world. Who is now watching everyone waiting for him. 

  So he walks up to her, drinks in hand and says, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

  "Ooh , Casablanca", she takes a glass. "Yes. Charles and I watched it yesterday. We didn't even know what was going on half the time because Charles was crying and making noises half the time."

  "Oh, just Charles?" "Okay fine I was crying a little too. Okay a lot. Fine I was the one who was crying the most. Happy?"

  "Oh babe. It's cute that you think you should say that to me as if you didn't watch it for the first time with me"

 "Oh yeah. Well, I tried. Oh before you ask, the kids are all at the Jeffords' house and Cagney and Lacey are keeping an eye on them. And the best part: without a babysitter's fee."

  "Wow, I really missed friends' kids doing things for us for free. Remember when we babysat Cagney and Lacey for like three days straight, without even thinking of money?"

  "And if we were to go by the amount our babysitters charge, we'd have enough money to buy Orangina for a whole month." 

  They move to the counter, perched on the barstools. "You know Captain Holt just called me Captain"

  "He's been calling you a Captain for a year babe, you know, cause you've been a Captain for a year!" 

  "I know! Can you believe?!" 

  "Of course, because you are awesome and amazing"

  "Oh, and he also said that he's still my mentor and that I can call him for advice any time."

   "Wow, obviously today was a big day for you"  

  "I know" Her whole face is lit up. Her cheeks are flushed, from the drinks and the running around making things happen, from the many catching up and from the fact that her mentor called her Captain. Once again he's a little bit more in love. His eyes catch Cindy and Scully awkwardly shuffling around trying to dance. Hitchcock is trying to hide the fact that he's disappointed, but doing a pretty bad job of it. He sees Charles and Genevieve almost having sex which apparently is how they dance. The music changes to something familiar and his wife looks amazing and he wants to dance with her very much. "Amy Santiago- Peralta, may I have this dance? And don't worry, it's reinforced shoes so I won't even know if you step on me." "Ha ha Peralta- Santiago. You are my teacher, so if I'm stepping on your toes, it's your own fault"

  "Wow, blaming the victim." 

  They are on the dance floor, her hand in his, hand on his shoulder, his on her waist. He can see every little detail on her face, the mascara running a bit, lipstick that's smudged. Her perfectly set hair, falling around the edges. She's beautiful. 

    "I wonder why all the greatest love stories are so tragic"

  "Because that's what makes them great. The fact that their love is so powerful that it's unattainable."

  "Well I think that it's stupid."

  "What?"

  "That the greatest love of our life is the one we don't have. It's categorically untrue. My favourite love story has a happy ending anyway"

  "You mean Morticia and Gomez?"

  "That's my second favourite"

  "Well, what's your first?"

  "Ours, of course" She smiles and that's all he ever wants to see.

  Her hand is in his, the other moves to his chest. His are around her waist circling, as he pulls her closer and she rests her cheek on shoulder. He buries his nose in her hair and she nuzzles into his neck. If he'd imagined a perfect life sixteen years ago, not even in his wildest dreams he'd have thought he could feel like this. 

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

— chapter ten ; stained glass window.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing + smoking

[ chapter index ]

A/N: I am sooooo sorry for the long hiatus! </3

This story is getting more views on Wattpad than here on Tumblr. I still love the show and Luca's my favourite villain, but as much as I want to discontinue this story, I want to get it out of the way because I have drafted a timeline of this story, including Teresa's and Luca's closure on their relationship. So I'm stuck in the middle on what to do???

BTW, I've come up with a headcanon for Luca's full name as Luca LaPaglia Changretta! His middle name is never revealed in the show, I just did this for the fic.

RIP Helen McCrory. You were one of my favourite stars of the show. Fly high <3. The Peaky fandom will miss you so much.

///

TERESA wasn't as religious as the next person, but she kept her respect as her heels echoed down the aisle, immediately spotting the tall man kneeling on one of the pues. His hands were folded in prayer, and he murmured what the Welsh could make out to be Italian tongue.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asks.

Luca pauses, his eyes still shut and hands still in folds. "No. I want you here."

Teresa slides over and sits next to her lover, staring at the giant crucifix behind the front podium. "How often do you pray, amore?"

Luca pauses his prayer again. "Almost every day. God and I keep in touch, y'know."

"What does he say to you?"

"He tells me to tell you to quit interrupting until I'm done talking to Him." Teresa chuckles, prompting her to let him finish. As it took another good minute for Luca to conclude his prayer, Teresa gazed at the stained glass windows on each side, casting a good light from the clouds that allowed a bit of sun for England, some of it casted its light onto Luca, like an angel on an opera stage.

Luca makes a sign of the cross, sitting back on the pue and grunting a bit from kneeling for a while. "How was lunch with Mamma?"

Teresa nodded. "It was lovely."

"Just lovely?"

"Mhm." She holds his hand. "She says your middle name is LaPaglia."

Luca hums, kissing her hand that curled with his. "C'mon, I wanna take you out with me for wine."

"Hmm... Luca LaPaglia Changretta," She said out loud, admiring the beauty of his full name slipping from her lips. "And I had wine with your mother."

"I meant wine shopping. I'm doing most of the taste tests, it's my cousin's birthday soon."

"Then shouldn't he be the one shopping for wine?" she asks.

The Italian pulls the heavy door, escorting Teresa out of the church and into the chauffeur. "He counts on me, I'm better at choosing wine and gin these days."

"ARTHUR, quit pacing. You'll burn your legs out."

"Where the fuck is she?" Arthur grunts. "Eh? Tom, you're really in it for this one. The fuckin' Welsh is not gonna live up to a fuckin' promise."

"You stop that, she's on her way," Tommy takes a sip of his drink.

A split-second passes as the maid knocks on the heavy office door. "Mr. Shelby?" the feminine voice calls softly. "Miss Griffith is here to see you."

Tommy gives a smug look to Arthur and Polly. "Yes. Send her in," he says. They waited for the woman to walk in, kind of wishing for Tommy to immediately scold her once she stepped foot into his office, but Tommy wasn't up to waste that much energy.

Arthur was the one to step in and do so, otherwise. "What? Did you stroll around Manchester or something?"

"Sorry," Teresa frowns, her face reading she wasn't holding any joy from her day so far. "I was with Luca."

"We're all ears," Polly walked around Tommy's desk. "What's happened? Did he fuck you until you forgot how to tell time?"

"I'm assuming Finn told you?" she asks.

"That's Finn for you, Teresa," Arthur points out.

Teresa rolls her eyes. No point of getting back at him this time. Rat or not, he would never hold back a word from the family. She remembered seeing him appear at the gallery, and he wasn't going to keep a secret from Tommy.

"I invited him for a meeting at a bar...then he took me to the theatre..." Teresa trails off.

Tommy opens his cigarette pack. "Go on."

"That's all, Mr. Shelby."

"You slept with Luca Changretta, just say it."

Teresa folded her arms. "Actually, yes. But earlier events prove what I'm about to propose; I'm in."

The members of the Peaky Blinders all raised a brow, mostly Tommy's.

"You slept with Luca Changretta, I didn't expect you to actually follow up with that, I don't recall telling you to do so, either."

"I wanted to discuss his plans on taking the Penarth gallery. It's not for his dirty hands to touch."

"You wish to join because your heart was too broken to hold back?" Polly says. "Is that where we're getting at, Teresa?" The Welsh woman stared at her. This was probably the first time they had seen each other after all those years that followed from her resignation. Since the last time they spoke, Polly didn't have anything held against her, and here she is, quite disappointed that Teresa shared her heart with a man like Luca. She did quite enjoy her company and her contribution to the Peaky Blinders, even when she chose to depart from Tommy and their relationship, then came Grace Burgess. Polly just didn't want to deal with another afterwards unless it was Lizzie.

"You're doing this just to get even? Luca could care less about your feelings now."

"Teresa," Tommy sighs, nodding at his old friend. "Come back here tomorrow."

Teresa nodded and made her exit out the foot of her door.

"And come on time, please." Teresa wished she could slam the door on him, but Arthur shut it as soon as Teresa's foot took a centimeter away. She presses her ear against the wood to hear them muffling.

"Tom?" She hears Arthur speak. "We can't trust her."

Tommy clears his throat, setting down a scrap of an article he read on his desk. "She'll go back to Penarth, but we can't let her stay there. I know what's going to happen."

"What do you know?"

"Italian men will show up to the gallery."

"It's certain Teresa Griffith keeps a firearm in her drawers," Polly says.

"No," Tommy shook his head. "Not enough to take down at least five men. Luca keeps count of who he orders - who he sends. We're more careful of that, we know of that."

"We're not morons, Tommy. Now we hear from Finn that Luca and Teresa were together?"

"Teresa should give us what we need to know from Luca Changretta. She knows too much about him."

"And Luca knows too much about us," Polly slowly walks over to Tommy. "If Teresa forms an alliance, what will she do? She's already slept with him, but I doubt she got anything out of it. She's not here for the sake of helping. She wants in because she's a woman with a broken heart."

Teresa detaches herself from the door, having heard enough. One of the maids returns, noticing the guest hadn't left yet and was suspiciously eavesdropping their boss. Teresa was pulled back by the shoulder like a child, escorting her out of the foyer.

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER, Teresa woke from the blinding sun. The silky bed sheets that covered hers and Luca's nude bodies were unmade - ruffled around. If you left the curtains open, you're more alerted. Luca never intended on waking Teresa up that way. In fact, he wasn't even lying next to her in the bed.

Luca's white dress shirt casted more brightness but his trousers were half done. He stared outside, holding his China cup of tea in one hand before looking back down at the papers sprawled across his desk.

Teresa sat up to clip on her brassiere, her accent thinned to greet in basic Italian. "Buongiorno."

He didn't respond.

She slides out of bed and approaches the desk. "Do you need me to leave soon? Though, you don't look like you're in a rush for an important meeting."

Still nothing.

"What, Luca?" This wasn't new for Luca to strangely switch up his mood. He wasn't an easy man, it's hard to impress him or to even study his emotions at times. Teresa had the feeling that Luca didn't enjoy what they had done. "Was this a mistake?"

"This was unprofessional." Luca sets his cup and coaster on his desk. "If you think something will come from this, then think again. I never should have taken you to the theatre. You were trying to let my guard down, were you?"

"No," Teresa shook her head. "I wasn't surprised that this was going to happen."

"Such a mind you carry in that blonde head of yours."

"Seeing you again felt good, Luca. I seized the opportunity to share another moment with you. I was thinking you were going to plan on coming back to Penarth indefinitely."

"Miss Griffith, did it ever occur to you that I wasn't supposed to stay here?" Luca frowns. "I'm no citizen here. America is where my heart belongs, if not America; Sicily."

"You fled to America. That was your last ditch effort to get away from the police," Teresa murmured. She folds her arms. "I understand why you had to do it."

"Then why do you hold it against me?" he asks, exhausted.

"Because I never heard from you ever since."

"I was fairly active in New York, you know?"

"I didn't know."

Luca stared at her. "That's your own problem, Miss Griffith."

"Christ, Luca. Enough with the formalities!" Teresa snaps. "I'm standing at your desk, half nude. We fucked in that bed right there!"

"Which was something we shouldn't have done," Luca began rubbing his temples. "I didn't come back here for you, all right? Porca miseria-" he cuts himself off to heave in a deep sigh. "I have to ask. All this time... you're still hung up on me?"

"Yes," Teresa says, her face paling. "Because I missed you, you bloody bastard. I couldn't reach out to you or your mother, not even the American press, to see how you were doing, or if you were kissing another woman's lips."

Luca slid his hand over to pick up the dress and shawl he placed on the side of the desk. "You need to leave now."

There was no point of convincing him anymore. All was said. Teresa knew not to vex a mafioso unarmed. If she had her handgun with her, she would have tried to pull something in a spite of anger. Would that do her a favour? Probably not. The rest of whoever's left of the Changretta family would go after her without question.

There was Tommy, though, and he's still waiting for her response back in Small Heath.

Grabbing her clothes, Teresa marches back to the bed, gets dressed and leaves the hotel room without saying a word to her former lover. Not even a curse.