#jumpers yes) so why would I think they were dating any more than I think H is dating his security guard or luis. the fandom just latches

[statementlou]

i’m sorry to bring this up again, but i wanted to ask how are you making sense of harry having his former girlfriend’s name tattooed on his thigh if you don’t think they were really together? i’m not a larrie and i follow you for your louis content, but i respect your opinions, so i guess i’m coming more from a place of curiosity rather than seeking reassurance. do you not even entertain for one second the idea that you might’ve been wrong about things? that harry was really in a relationship with olivia? that he might actually be attracted to women? that he might’ve been with louis once upon a time but not anymore? have you ever challenged your confirmation bias? again, i’m not trying to attack you, i really just want to understand where you stand. i hope u don’t take this the wrong way.

well first of all you bring up the very good point that there are actually multiple Qs at play and not just one, despite the fandom's (and my) attempts to simplify things. I personally am open to the possibility that Harry and Louis are no longer together- we don't have enough info to say for sure either way about that, and I am constantly recalibrating and considering and I'm going to be totally honest, getting flat out ANNOYED at how often I find myself being like oh damn they ARE still (or again) together ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? Because it seems so improbable and illogical! You think I don't KNOW I sound fucking crazy?! Absolutely infuriating, and yet there are just all these little Things all the time. Plus ofc the fact that they both constantly wink wink larrie stuff to the fandom which could just be playing to the crowd... except then they both continually take it that little extra way that makes me go oh but... you really didn't NEED to go THERE that seems VERY pointed?? But also sometimes I go well. Okay, maybe not. Since they both seem super happy at this point, it doesn't stress me out to think they might have split, the way it would if they seemed miserable and were still churning out heartbreak songs, but it's schrodingers relationship and with all the savvy they've acquired around this stuff and all the balls they're keeping in the air wrt to fandom etc that's unlikely to change in favor of us knowing anything for sure for a very long time, if ever. But I do not doubt that they WERE together, it's simply not realistic. The evidence of it is overwhelming and imo undeniable when taken all together. And the thing is that knowing one thing with certainty (that they were together back when), having really looked at the things that happened during that time, does actually have a lot of bearing on the rest of it even if they aren't together anymore. Because knowing that and having seen the way fake relationships to make them seem straight were managed back then means that when I see the EXACT SAME things being done in the current day, like they are working from a fucking blueprint, no, I don't look at that and think it might be real. I know that Louis and Eleanor wasn't real in... whenever they allegedly got together lol, that story still isn't even quite straight, so why would I believe they were together in 2020? And if I know Louis has a tattoo for a fake girlfriend why would it change my mind about a million things I can see with my own eyes if Harry did the same (if indeed he even has who tf knows)? So despite what I said at the beginning, in the end it kind of does just come down to the one question people are always asking, are you a larrie? Because when you've actually been down the rabbit hole of details that ends up with you saying yes to that question, it's like acquiring a rosetta stone that unlocks the ability to read everything else, like putting on xray glasses, and I look at what is so obviously a publicity relationship (holivia) and whether H and L are still together has nothing to do with why I don't think it's real. Like could a celeb relationship be both used in typical ways for publicity and be or become real on some level (looking at you Liam, heyyy), sure, but for this question the fact that I have never seen Harry show the slightest sign of attraction to a woman in his whole life and he so clearly embraces and identifies so strongly with gay male culture in every possible way and never shuts up about how much he loves cock does play into my thinking; I simply do not think he is attracted to women, no, and I have yet to see him do anything that doesn't seem consistent with things a closeted pop star might chose to do. So in conclusion yes I have challenged my bias and decided I'm right lol! But for real- all the time I consider that they perhaps aren't together but that isn't really the point when it comes to believing they are gay.

#I feel like the follow up anons to this will logically be SO WHY NOT BRAD so lemme just jump on that cause I don't really want to #have a whole thing about that #honestly for me it's WHY BRAD. It makes perfect sense for him to be with harry all the time (and therefore for them to borrow each others #jumpers yes) so why would I think they were dating any more than I think H is dating his security guard or luis. the fandom just latches #onto the idea that people around them who they think would look hot with are a thing but other than that literally NOTHING about this guy's #association with H is actually different than many other employee/pals imo and I see literally nothing that suggests anything going on ther #so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #I mean I DO think Harry has weirdly fluid boundaries around considering his employees friends in a way that seems like he doesn't #really GET the power differential possibly (because how could he he's been on that side of it his whole adult life) but I'm not there #behind the scenes with them; hopefully that's not the case #but that's a separate issue #blah blah blah #long post #I TRIED to keep it short and tidy but NO people gonna ask the long form questions #which btw I appreciate I do enjoy a good thoughtful anon thx

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Drunk Deuce Headcanons

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

So whilst I don’t think he’s a light weight, Deuce can get pretty tipsy really easily.

Deuce is a hundred percent an affectionate clingy drunk

He’s definitely a lot more handsy than he would be whilst sober. Deuce is a touchy boyfriend in general, and always has his hands on you even in public whether he’s holding your hand as you walk, wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulders or even indulging in the occasional full blown hug where he gives into the constant urge to just engulf your frame with his. He would love to do PDA, and you’ve certainly made it clear that you’re absolutely fine with it as well, but his general shyness, gentlemanly instincts, and drive to be a well behaved honour student that abides by the rules make it a bit hard for him to just kiss you in public no matter how much he wants to. So he just settles for hand touching and the occasional pecks on the cheek and forehead.

Having you close just feeds his protective instincts and the side of him that’s just so giddy and amazed to hold you. Like, wow, I’m dating this amazing girl and I want to touch her and she wants me to touch her. Is this heaven? Plus, being affectionate in a place where other people can see does appease a smug part of him that he’s not too ashamed of hiding. He’s not possessive by any means, but the butterflies in his stomach start flapping like crazy whenever he thinks about how everyone else knows that the both of you are each others - like, he’s known that he belongs to you ever since that incident long ago where you learned about his past yet looked at him with that caring supportive gaze but now you also belong to him. 

In private his urge to touch you is just amped up, seeing how he’s now able to do as he pleases without anyone but the two of you to bear witness.

He just wants you so much. Every second of every hour of every day, his head is filled with your laughter, your smile, your sparkling eyes, the melody of your voice, the tingling of your touch. You drive him madder than the residents of Wonderland.

Anyway, back to him being inebriated 

He’ll whine, clinging onto you like a koala, not caring about others watching as his face makes a home for itself in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin. Strong, athletic arms will hold you close against him, whether he’s dragged you onto his lap or he’s seated beside you but has you in a vice grip with his arms draped over your shoulders like you’re wearing a Deuce sized jumper.

If you do manage to escape his hold (though, why would you??) he’ll follow you around like a newly imprinted baby duckling, trailing after you with wide pleading eyes and a dopey lovestruck smile and awestruck eyes. Having to close the bathroom door on his sad puppy eyes feels worse than a hundred daggers to your chest but you were honestly desperate to go at that point.

(Yes, he pouted outside until you were done and then immediately latched onto you the second the door opened again. He’s one of Professor Crewel’s favourite students for a reason)

Normally when Deuce is needy, he’s a lot more - well, I wouldn’t say ‘aggressive’ per say - but he’s more physically demanding of your affection, pressing hard and fast kisses against your lips, cheeks, neck in quick succession as his hands hold you flush against him but then again, needy Deuce only comes out in private. When he’s got liquid courage coursing through his veins, however, everything’s slow, savouring, all relaxed veneration and gentle adoration - letting him drown in his all-consuming devotion, even when he knows that time will stop before he’s even begun to be sated.

And he’s a lot more shameless about it, indulging himself all out in the open. The Queen of Hearts herself could be before him and he wouldn’t care, not when he’s got his own goddess to revere.

Sliding, his lips down the slope of your neck, pressing slow, drowsy kiss after slow, drowsy kiss only forcing himself to pull away from your skin when you call his name, so sweet and tantalizing, to look up at you with dark, besotted eyes and flushed cheeks before continuing where he left off. In his opinion, if your words stutter and fumble as you converse with your friends - who pray to The Seven that their next shot is much much stronger - then he’s on the right path

He’s a cuddly, clingy puppy but he’s your cuddly clingy puppy and you won’t have him any other way

Meanwhile everyone else is completely done with the pair of you and Ace is certain that the nausea he feels has absolutely nothing to do with the empty glass of alcohol in his hand.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #fem reader

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I know you must be busy and have a lot of work to do, so dont feel pressured to respond !! 😊

Anyways, i have Dominic💓 brainrot 😫‼️‼️💔💔, and was wondering what hed think of a reader that has been raised in a lower/working-class household all of their life ?

Here we have a person that's not has had even a *taste* of luxury, their clothes being second-hand, thrifting becoming their past-time, and, havung had parents living paycheck-to-paycheck, would feel guilty for ever asking tjem for anything, and had starting working for Dominic because they were desperate to pay them back for all the sacrifices they msde for them in their childhood :((

And here we have Dominic, a successful, wealthy business man, secretly raising their wages, and the whole time reader feels sheepish and at times even *embarrassed*, overwhelmed by so much money ??

Especially whrn he slides in a thick envelope with a generous stack of cash into their back pocket with a charming wink, or buys them sometjing that they had mentioned wanting in a passing conversation as they had been sadly stating how they coupd never afford it, and Dominic saying that its absolutely—

—"Not a problem in the slightest, mon chéri. Why wouldn't I want to reward my favourite babysitter for their hard work?"— **oozing** charisma and smiling his dazzling, award-winning smile, and insisting that—

—"You shouldn't be fussing over trifles such as money. Hard work pays off, and you have been working very hard indeed." ... @@"" ",

Anon, you've hit the nail on the head with this one 🤭. Thank you so much for writing in and enjoying my Dominic content, it means the world to me <3 !

TW: Dominic, Manipulative Mentions of Weight Loss, Implied Smut, Dominic Being a Creep

♡ But yes, absolutely, Dominic would use his financial position as a means of dominance over you. Subtly, of course, so that you don't know he's being...unabashed his efforts to woo you. But prevalent enough that you still feel indebted - grateful - to him for all that he's done.

♡ The longer you know each other, the more personal - intimate - the gifts he gets you become. Speaking on that, he makes a habit to inadvertently reward behaviours he desires in you, such as cutting off friends, dumping your boyfriend, spending more time around him, etc.

♡ At first, the gifts are general - vague - and inconspicuous; they belie the true extent to which Dominic has memorised your tastes. Something like a low-price jumper he knows is your general style, something to keep you warm in winter. He'll give you a smile. "Can't have our favourite babysitter freezing up now, can we."

♡ Then, it'll be a pair of boots to go with the jumper - "So you won't have any difficulty getting to and from our house."

♡ It doesn't matter that you live right next door to each other. Dominic doesn't want you taking any chances.

♡ He'll use his assertiveness to trick you into believing you've "Gotten a little thinner these days. Are you eating properly?"

♡ He'll feign concern as he comes close to you, lifting your arms, apologising and faking a vague bashfulness as he apologises for overstepping. "French hospitality, I suppose," he says, averting his eyes for no longer than a second.

♡ And of course, you believe him. Of course, you don't see a problem with his behaviour, especially when he seems so concerned for your wellbeing.

♡ He won't let that lie, by the way. He'll keep telling you how you seem to keep dropping a size every time you see him. Eventually, he'll insist on taking you out to dinner.

♡ When you inevitably try to refuse his kindness, he'll whip out old reliable. "It was supposed to be Marilyn and I's dinner date, but she's..." he glances down the hall. Gives his brow a light yet chiselled furrow. He wonders if you can hear the fizz of the sedative in Marilyn's drink as he can, the sound fresh in his ears.

♡ "Sick, unfortunately."

♡ So now, obviously, Dominic is faced with a dilemma. But you have the solution.

♡ He asks you to accompany him — “I’ll pay for you, of course,” — to take Marilyn’s place.

♡ You resist at first. Tell him that you couldn’t possibly do that. But Dominic is the father of manipulation, and he’s nursed many a lie, watched the become their own adulterous identities, and knows exactly how to get you to go.

♡ “Please, you deserve a break. And besides, I don’t want to be seen eating all the lobster on my lonesome.”

♡ You succumb to his efforts. He tells you to get ready for your dinner date. You tell him you have nothing worthy of wearing.

♡ He knows this.

♡ He smiles. Brings you to a room that is filled to the brim in outfits he says that “Marilyn and I rarely use. Something here will be your size, I'm sure.”

♡ He’s made sure there is. He’s bought half a dozen suits and dresses in just your size — and a little over or under depending on how tightly he wants to see the fabric squeeze you — for this exact occasion. Of which he expects there to be multiple.

♡ He resists the temptation of watching you undress. Of seeing you so bare in his house.

♡ He settles for whatever little flashes of skin your outfit affords. All of which were bought with the sole intention of giving Dominic enough to work with for his midnight musings.

♡ This is not the last time Dominic will treat you to dinner, the last time he watches your eyes bulge out of your skull as you see the amount the bill comes down to — a luxury Dominic lets you see to really instill that sense of indebtedness.

♡ And each time, he tries to get you further and further over the threshold of his house. His room.

♡ When you get undressed and back into your ordinary clothes, Dominic tells you he’ll keep the outfit and wash it.

♡ You don’t know it’s yours yet.

♡ He doesn’t wash it. He all but bathed in the scent of you, mouthing the places your warmest, most intimate sorts would have been pressed against. He imagines you there, vividly.

♡ He wonders how much you’d be willing to bend to the will of his wealth. How much he can make you do until you’re entrenched in his affections, toffee-sweet and with all its viscosity.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

#sweet as an angel #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #original yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere dilf #yandere dilf x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere x darling #tw yandere

[whumpacabra]

The Agent

Stalking, back from the dead, fictional politics, referenced past character death, referenced amnesia, implied past torture

[Follows The Mademoiselle]

Liza knew when she was being tailed - but she had to admit, this agent was good.

Unfortunately for him, she had no interest in being cornered by some MI6 Interpol schmuck who had chased her across the bloody country over the past few months. If he wanted to talk, he needed to be an adult and use his words.

It was easy to slip a message to him - a simple wink and whisper to the cafe cashier to give the older gentleman in line behind her the piece of paper with her ‘number.’ What it really read was simply: Wytch Wood, 3 PM. If he was smart he would come alone. (If he was smart he wouldn’t come unarmed.)

Liza wasn’t surprised that he managed to track her down among the winding trails, but she was admittedly a little impressed by his apparently healthy cardio routine. The man hadn’t broken a sweat despite obviously running to make the appointment.

“You’re looking dashing today, Jackson.” It was her turn to play coy. “You’re letting yourself go silver - I hear that’s quite popular these days.”

“Christ, I’m starting to look my age.” He huffed, walking alongside her. His icy eyes appraised her quickly - he certainly picked up that she was armed under her jumper. Her eyes traced the holster strap for his own weapon.

“You don’t look a day over 35, dear.” She smoothly took his arm, flashing him a look before a jogger came around the corner, smiling at them as he continued down the path. Liza dropped the agent’s arm as soon as he was out of sight. “I don’t take kindly to tails, Jackson. What the fuck do you expect to find?”

“You.” Something in his tone piqued her curiosity. He sounded secretive and wary, and not in the way most agent’s sounded when asking her for…personal favors. “I needed to meet with you on your terms - no comms, no cameras.”

“What do you want that you don’t want getting back to your coworkers?” She rounded on him with a huff, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “Is this a date? And here I thought you - ”

“It’s about the Wolf.”

Liza’s jaw snapped shut, her carefree posturing stuttering for just a second as she recovered her facade. What could she tell him, really? She knew an old friend by that name. A good kid, who died young.

“If I heard something from any of my contact you would know. Why this secrecy - ?”

“You know more than you’re letting on. You know something - Liza, please.” He was desperate.

“Were you fucking the American he killed or something? I’m all for a bit of revenge, but my help comes at a price.”

“No.” The curl of disgust and cold rage in Jackson’s voice was, admittedly, intoxicating. Liza didn’t expect her affections to be reciprocated, but damn if she didn’t admire a man sharpened by determined and personal hate. (Thinking of Ghost, she might have a type - outside of wealthy men with short attention spans, of course.)

“Then why do you care so much about his missing murderer?”

The flash of emotion across his face was clearly not meant to be seen. Fear. Grief. Pity.

Curious.

“You’re aware Smith was staying in the same hotel as you?” His voice was low, head on a swivel as he glanced around the empty woodland path.

“Yes. Though he slept on my couch most of the time, if I remember correctly.” In spite of her best efforts to effuse some levity into her voice, Liza could feel the weight of Jackson’s anxiety as she met his gaze. “I take it your Wolf was staying in the room under Smith’s name?”

“Yes…it appears Smith…fucking hell.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, words rushed and hushed. “We were expecting to find a body with the state it was in. Smith had been tearing him apart in there.”

“But there was no body?”

“No.”

“And Smith was found blocks away professionally executed?”

“Y-yes.” Jackson stuttered, briefly considering how she had come by such details. She had told him - a woman’s intuition. (And some personal favors in Interpol.)

“What’s to say Smith didn’t kill his little Wolf and hired some help with the body? Couldn’t pay up or otherwise crossed them - easy grounds for a bullet to the skull.”

“That’s…possible.” There was flicker in Jackson’s expression. The Wolf wasn’t dead and he knew it, somehow.

“But…?”

“If Wolf’s not dead - he needs help. Or will need it soon. Do you know where he might have gone for help - ?”

“Oh, now I know you’re hiding something, love.” She squinted at the agent, biting her lip with a smile as he fidgeted. “You Interpol boys have a good set of connections for black market medics - why ask me for those contacts?”

“Well, our contacts haven’t turned anything up and there’s been no body found - ”

“Don’t bullshit me, John.” There was no fond amusement in her voice now. No more games; her patience was wearing thin. (And her curiosity was insatiable.) “I don’t care if you’ve got the Wolf locked away as your dirty little secret somewhere in London - why bother me with it? Why would I know anything - and why would anything I know be helpful - ?”

“Your reaction, when I mentioned his name.” Jackson stopped walking, a determined desperation in his voice. He must have felt he was grasping at straws. “You know something - about some Wolf - and you purposefully withheld that information.”

“Because it’s personal, jackass.” She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to calm the defensive anger coiling in her gut. “I knew a Wolf, once. He died. End of story.”

“And if it wasn’t?” His whisper was so soft she almost didn’t hear it as she turned heel to stalk away. She froze, birdsong humming through the trees.

“What?”

“What if that wasn’t the end of his story?” Jackson, ever the surprise, didn’t cower as she turned with venom in her eyes. His words carried gentle but firm. “Wolf either doesn’t remember where he was before Smith, or he if he does he won’t tell anyone.”

“Go on.” She grit out the words, resenting herself for letting the fantasy he spun tug at her atrophied heartstrings.

“As far as I can tell by our records, we’ve only had four high priority targets go by that alias. Two of which either ended up in prison or dead before the 80s. One we lost track of in the 90s, and now a new Wolf turns up on our radar with no past to speak of.” Jackson was watching her closely, carefully. “If you knew this Wolf, hypothetically, would you be able to get him out of the country and far from Interpol?”

“Hypothetically, if you were found to be harboring a man wanted for murder, you would go to prison and you would not do well there.” Liza couldn’t find the focus to smile at her own jab. “And, hypothetically, if you do have a man back from the dead on your hands, that I may or may not have known at some point in the last decade or two, I…would be inclined to consider your request for his relocation.”

"Thank you - "

"I'll organize a time and place. You get him there - take him out for a nice dinner or something."

"How are you going to tell if he's your Wolf?"

"By looking at him, of course." She smiled, though sadness tinged her eyes. "I never forget a face. Besides, the Wolf I knew - I knew him well. Don't let him know I'm there; I just need to see his face and how he acts. We can reconvene after if there's a need for a misty eyed reunion."

Liza wasn't an optimist, but the situation was...so tempting with its intoxicating hope. No matter how she tried to crush the fledgling excitement in her heart, she found herself smiling the whole day. If it wasn't her Wolf, no love lost - there was still an empty coffin to visit in Dresden. But if, somehow, this was her Wolf - Ghost's Wolf - he was back from the dead, after so many years...

(She tried to forget the details Jackson had dropped, she tried not to imagine what had to have happened to the Wolf she knew to have him heel to the call of some American agent.)

(...)

(What did it matter? If he was alive, he was alive and that was enough. Wasn't it?)

[Before Tea]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode @sacredwrath

#whump #stalking #back from the dead #fictional politics #past character death #amnesia #implied past torture #freelancers #listen I know this little investigation miniseries isn’t that whumpy but there is gonna be some delicious angst #when liza realizes a) how fucked up the wolf got in the sandbox and b) that he really doesn’t remember much of his past (incl. her) #I am so out of routine this week I was out at the bar with my friends until like midnight the other day (very late for 8 pm me) #I slept in yesterday but couldn’t fall asleep until later last night so I woke up late today like nooooo my sleep schedule :[

[weasleylangs]

opposites attract - f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k

A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 

P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!

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

Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.

Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.

Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 

When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.

This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.

She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.

“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 

Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 

These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 

“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 

Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.

“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 

“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 

She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.

“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 

-

It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 

“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 

Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 

He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 

“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.

“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 

They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.

“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”

Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 

Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 

She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 

Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 

He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 

They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 

When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 

The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.

“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 

She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.

He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”

He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 

“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.

“I love you.” 

This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 

Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.

“I do, I love you.” 

She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley

[awkward-and-indecisive]

The Lazy Chose Me

Gif by @crowleysfavouritedemon

Summary - Y/n wants to have a lazy day but her boyfriend, Dean, wants to take her on an impromptu date. Will she have a good time at the date or will the date, the green eyed hunter organised, be a total wreck?

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Female!reader

Warnings - FLUFF!!! A little language, crack, lots of kissing a certain green eyed man, Dean being the best boyfriend ever, Dean being an adorable dork. Reader’s thoughts are italicised. If I’m forgetting anything please let me know!

Word Count - 4224

A/N - This randomly came to me at four in the morning. Also, I love Stitch with everything in me. 🥺😩

This is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine.

Please tell me what you think about it.

FEEDBACK IS HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!!

Happy Reading :)

*****

You were having the laziest day of your life. Sitting on your side of the bed in a hoodie and sweatpants, you were stuffing your face with popcorn while watching reruns of your favourite show. With no hunts for the day, you were having a lazy day after months and you were enjoying it way too much. Crumbs of the snacks you’ve had earlier were scattered on the bed, decorating the sheets like confetti. Little pieces of popcorn were falling everywhere but you didn’t care. And you didn’t care that you didn’t care. You were loving the fact that you had nothing to do all day but lie in bed and eat junk and be lazy and messy and ugly and dirty. You were basically a zombie for the day.

Ah! This is what dreams are made of. You thought to yourself, sighing after another episode ended. You stretched your body, a few of your joints popping due to not getting any movement for so long, and hummed happily to yourself. You pressed play on the remote, the next episode playing, and changed your position on the bed. Lying on your side, you brought up your knees to your chest, one of your hands supporting your head, and kept the popcorn bowl within arm’s reach.

You had only continued your munching for a few minutes when your green eyed sex god of a boyfriend entered the room, excitement making his huge frame shake. He stopped at the foot of the bed, bouncing on the balls of his feet and you got a little annoyed at how energetic he was being. Your eyes were still glued to the screen, hand going in the direction of the bowl, blindly picking some popcorn and gorging yourself with it.

Dean moved in front of the tv and switched it off. You let out a ‘hey!’ in protest and he came to sit beside you. You scowled at him for interrupting your plan of being a zombie all day and he kept a hand on your hip, a cheeky smile playing on his lips which told you that he was up to something.

“Get ready, sweetheart. We’re going on an impromptu date.” He said with eagerness, clapping his hands together, and you still kept scowling at him. He seemed to have figured out what was swirling around in your head and started shaking you lightly.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been so long since we had a date night and I have the perfect thing in mind.” He whined, making puppy dog eyes. You almost gave in right there but the lazy part of you stopped you from saying yes.

“But whyyy?! I don’t want to get ready or dress up or do my hair or look pretty or take a shower. I want to spend all day in bed doing absolutely nothing.” You whined back.

“Y/n, come on! You can be lazy all you want tomorrow. And look at all this mess and you haven’t even showered?!” Your boyfriend exclaimed. You just shrugged in return. So what if I didn’t shower today? It wasn’t like I smelled. Or did I?

You shook your head to get those thoughts out of your head and pulled the covers over your head, trying to hide under them and not let Dean force you to get out of bed. He tried to snatch the covers from you, going to stand at the foot of the bed again, but you had a deathgrip on them. Of course you were no match to him when it came to strength and he managed to steal them from you, throwing them on the small chair in the room. You groaned and folded your body more, tightly wrapping your arms around your knees and burying your head in the space between your knees and chest.

Dean grabbed a hold of your ankle and easily pulled you to the end of the bed and you screamed in protest, grabbing whatever you could to hold on. To anyone else the scene would surely look extremely comical, you clutching the sheets like your life depended on it and Dean dragging you towards the end of the bed. You knew you were being childish and throwing a tantrum like a kid whose mother refused to give in to their unnecessary demand they made in a public place right now but you didn't want to leave your bed. You were so comfortable and happy spending the day there and your boyfriend was bursting your peaceful bubble of lethargy.

“Why. Are. You. So. Damn. Lazy?!” Dean huffed exasperatedly, pulling you more and more towards the edge with each word.

You finally gave up on your plan, knowing you were no match for your stupid boyfriend’s stupid strength. You swiped the strands of hair that stuck on your face from all the scuffle in annoyance, when you stood up on your feet, and looked him in the eyes.

“I didn���t choose the lazy Dean. The. Lazy. Chose. Me.” You huffed with every step you took to leave the room and go to the bathroom to get ready for your impromptu date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head at your antics, taking a pair of your jeans, your undergarments and a jumper out of the drawer to give to you since you didn’t take any with you. He dropped the clothes on the bench of the bathroom, shouting ‘don’t take too long and get ready in 45 minutes’, and came back to change his clothes too.

Rolling your eyes for the millionth time in the last hour, you dragged your boot clad feet to the bunker’s garage. You would have been spending the whole day in sweats and a hoodie and here you were now, wearing jeans and a bra. Oh how cruel life is to break my dreams like that! You internally groaned.

You found Dean humming a tune to himself while leaning against his precious Impala, legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded. His head perked up when the sound of your footsteps reached his ears and he immediately opened the passenger side door for you. You grumpily took a seat and Dean, still acting all gentlemanly, closed the door and rounded the car to take a seat in the driver’s side.

He jammed the key into the ignition and turned it, driving out of the garage. The green eyed man turned on some soft rock tunes, his fingers drumming to their tune. His whole demeanor was annoying you, testing your limits. How was he so happy after literally dragging me off the bed and stopping me from being the sack of potatoes I so desperately wanted to be all day?

“Why couldn’t we have a lazy date night in the Cave?” You asked, turning your body towards him.

“Because I can’t remember the last time we went out on a nice date and what I have planned is gonna be so much better than a lazy date night in the Cave.” He replied with confidence.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You grumbled, folding your arms.

“At least tell me where we’re going!” You whined after a few minutes had passed, stomping your foot like a child. You were really in a mood today.

“Then it won’t be a surprise.” Dean said, like it was obvious. You faced him and gave him your best puppy dog eyes, jutting out your lower lip to make the pout he could never say no to. He gave you a glance and then chuckled, “Nice try, sweetheart. But my hands are tied.”- he raised his hands in defeat and shrugged, -“I’m sorry but no can do.”

You let out a groan of frustration and decided to give up on prying information from him and just wait to see what this great plan of his was.

After a little over an hour of driving, Dean put Baby in park and you could see a tent with some lights and stuff. It was a carnival.

He brought you to a freaking carnival?!

“A carnival.” You said, judgement dripping from your voice.

“What? It’ll be fun!” He shrugged, a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I swear to god Dean if i don’t have any fun-”

“If you don’t have a good time then I’ll do whatever you want for a month.” He rambled out before you could complete your threat.

“Whatever?” You asked him, wanting to know if he was sure what he was signing himself up for. He nodded in reply and you thought about the little deal he was presenting you.

“Make it two and you have yourself a deal.” You countered, giving him a huge fake smile and putting your hand forward so you could shake on it.

“Deal!” Dean said and instead of shaking your hand, he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you like he hadn’t for years. He parted from you and you weren’t sure if you were out of breath because of the kiss or because of how good he kissed you. “That’s the way to properly seal a deal, sweetheart.” He winked and got out of the car, leaving you breathless and in a daze in the car.

You shook your head to get your brain back to working and got out of the car. You rounded and saw Dean holding his hand out for you. You couldn’t help the genuine smile and warmth that graced your cheeks. You hated how a tiny gesture from him made your heart do somersaults like a teenage girl even after all these years of knowing and dating him. Intertwining your fingers with his, you started walking towards the entry to go inside.

You were mesmerised by the hundreds of lights that were acting as a roof over your heads, looking like a galaxy of stars, as soon as you stepped foot into the carnival. You uttered a ‘Whoa!’ and could already see the smug smile forming on your boyfriend’s face. He gave you a ‘Hate to say I told you so’ look which you just ignored, pulling him towards the first stall your eyes fell on.

Dean suggested that you two eat a little before indulging in any activities and you quickly agreed since you didn’t have anything to eat all day other than those few snacks. You both opted for a hotdog and quickly finished it, feeling the hunger once the food was in your hands. The both of you roamed a little around the fair, watching everything that was on display.

The various games that were hard for normal people but to you both were as easy as pie and all the different prizes they had. A particular prize caught your eye and you memorised the stall number to visit later. The numerous contrasting foods and their delicious aromas wrapped around you like a blanket as you passed their respective stalls.

You saw a stall with flavoured lemonade and urged Dean to try some. You continued exploring while drinking the flavours of your choice. You reached the end of the ground, where the carnival was set, where a huge Ferris wheel waited for you and Dean.

You could only imagine the view you would get from the top. You tugged at your boyfriend’s jacket sleeve, stopping at the queue for the giant ride. You quickly emptied your plastic cups and threw them in the trash. You couldn’t help but notice Dean being a little nervous about the ride and found it so adorable. Dean Winchester, the best hunter in the world, was scared of a Ferris wheel.

It wasn’t long till it was your chance to sit in one of the carts. The crew guy locked the bar over your laps, securing you in. You heard Dean start humming Metallica, which you knew he did to calm himself down, as the ride started to take you up. You took his hand in yours, your thumb caressing the back of his hand. His grip on your hand tightened and you squeezed it back in reassurance, resting your head on his shoulder. You knew he was a little scared but couldn’t help and find the whole situation utterly adorable and amusing.

The wheel stopped when you were halfway to the top and you looked down to see that a couple was getting off a cart and another taking their place. You looked back at Dean, sitting next to you, and he had a funny expression on his face.

“Hey! You okay?” You asked, your brows furrowing.

He scanned his surroundings for a few seconds and then gulped, looking at you. You raised your eyebrows in question and he opened his mouth but no words came out.

“I uh...I think I’m gonna throw up.” He stuttered.

“You WHAT?!” You said, voice getting louder with shock while you let go of his hand and put as much distance as you could between the two of you. Your turn had just started and you were approximately 50 feet above ground and you had nowhere to go. Your thoughts started spiralling and you quickly rambled out, “I swear to god Dean if you throw up here I’ll kill you. Don’t even think about throwing up. Swallow it down if you have to. Don’t you dare throw up.”

“I can’t just not throw up Y/n!” He screeched.

“I don’t care!!” You said, shaking your head from side to side.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a minute when Dean started laughing hysterically, his whole body shaking the cart. Your eyes widened when realisation hit you. He was messing with you. He wasn’t nauseous. Ugh! You hated him so much. The ride started again, taking you both up and he was still laughing.

“Asshole!” You said, smacking his arm and the cart shook a little bit.

“Whoa Y/n! I might fall!” Dean shrieked and you grumbled ‘Good!’ in reply.

You crossed your arms, rolling your eyes and looking away from him. It wasn’t long until you reached the top and as soon as you took in the view, your annoyance vaporized into thin air. You could see the whole town from up here, hundreds of lights twinkling in the distance, the cold wind blowing through your hair. It all looked so heavenly stunning.

“This is so beautiful!” You whispered in awe.

“Yeah it is.” Dean agreed with you and when you looked at him, he was looking at you. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You rolled your eyes while a blush crept up on your cheeks making your face warm even in the cold breeze. A smug expression made its way on Dean’s face and he wiggled his brow at you, thinking of how easy it was to win you over. But before he could make a smartass comment, you crashed your lips onto his, shutting him up. He didn’t seem to mind, bringing his hand up to your cheek, his thumb caressing it, while the other one still held onto the metal bar which was your only safety.

You made out like horny teenagers the whole ride, giggling when your noses collided. You both got out of the small cart, hands entwining and began to make your way back. You were walking quietly, taking in your surroundings when out of nowhere a guy ran past you, drenching you with the milkshake he had in his hand. You gasped at the contact of the cold liquid with your body, which quickly started seeping into your clothes and making you shiver.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean cursed looking at you, anger filling him straight away and then his green eyes gazed behind you to catch sight of that guy.

“Let it go, Dean. I need to change before I get sick.” You said, tugging at his hand.

“Okay okay. I think I saw a souvenir shop a little ahead. Let’s get you some clean clothes from there.” He said, his anger disappearing and worry taking its place.

You nodded and let him guide you to the shop, hoping they had some clothes you could wear. As much as you disliked coming here at first, you were having a good time and didn’t wanna go back home so soon.

You went into the shop, thanking everyone in this world when you found some clothes at the back. You quickly took off their tag and handed them to Dean so he could pay for them while you changed in the fitting room. You quickly got out of your milkshake soaked clothes and put them in a plastic bag. You left the fitting room, your eyes meeting with those gorgeous green ones and he chuckled, shaking his head and looking down.

“What?” You asked, feeling a little conscious.

“Nothing. I’m just not that surprised at your choice of clothing.” He said with amusement, waving his hand up and down towards your body.

You glanced down at yourself and realised that you were wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. You were back in your lazy clothes and chuckled too. You looked at Dean and shrugged while smirking, “What can I say? The lazy chose me.”

He grinned at you, pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was all sweet and loving. He parted when the need for air became too much and rested his forehead on yours, whispering on your lips, “I’m starting to think it did.”

You pecked his lips one more time before taking his hand to exit the shop. You both roamed around a bit more, going on some rides and eating some food. You lost a bet to Dean, getting dizzy before him on Chair-O-Planes, resulting in him making fun of you before you kissed him to shut him up while he lost a bet to you, getting scared in the fun house once while you didn’t. You made fun of him before he applied your method of shutting him up, kissing you. You both tried a hybrid of a cake and a pie which was so fucking delicious that it left you two moaning with each bite and you instantly got a whole one packed to take home. Dean kept convincing you to call it Pieke which you kept ignoring. You also tried something called a ‘pizza cone’, it looked like a normal ice cream cone but instead of the ice cream, it had cheese and pizza sauce and the cone was made out of dough. It was easily the best kind of pizza you’ve ever had and got a few of them packed for everyone back at home.

It was safe to say that both of your stomachs were full with finger-licking food and your hearts with irreplaceable memories from tonight. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this carefree and had so much fun. You hated to admit it, but Dean was right and you were definitely not going to say that out loud and give him one more chance of being all cocky and boastful.

Both of you were lazily strolling with one of your hands carrying the bags with the food and the other interlaced with each others’. You could see the opening from where you had entered, meaning you had done everything there was to do.

“You ready to go home, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his head tilting to you while his eyes darted towards the entry/exit point.

You hummed while nodding, Dean pecking your forehead and beginning to walk again. You had just stepped out of the carnival when your brain reminded you of that stall number you had thought of visiting before and you quickly shrieked, “WAIT!!”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to you with his brows raised, “What?”

“Uh, I remembered something I have to do.” You gave him a vague reply, not looking him in the eye.

“Okay, let’s go do it then.” He said, turning to walk back inside.

“NO!! No no.” You yelped, pushing on his shoulders to turn him back. He gave you a perplexed look and you awkwardly said, “You don’t have to come. Plus I kinda gotta do it alone.”

“Okaaay..” Dean said, unsure.

“Alright! So I'll meet you at the car in 20.” You hastily rambled out, pecking his lips and made your way back to the stall you had earlier seen in the night, leaving a dumbfounded Dean behind.

You were walking back to the car, a giant rainbow slinky in your hands, which were behind your back, to hide the toy from him. You saw how heartbroken he was, when the one Sam had gotten him on a case, got broken. You just wanted to see his whole face light up and give you that huge smile that lit up your world. You had seen the slinky displayed as a prize on the Ring Toss game and had won it for your boyfriend easily, your hunter skills coming handy.

You saw Dean leaning against the Impala, a mischievous look on his face, something blue and huge peeking out from where he was hiding it behind him. You squinted your eyes to figure out what he was hiding but failed to make anything out.

“What you got there, Y/n?” Dean questioned, nodding to your hands, amusement painted all over his face.

“I could ask the same.” You smirked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“Well as they say, ‘Ladies first’” He winked and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna need your hands for this one and they’re a little busy as far as I can tell.” You said, wiggling your brows at him.

Realisation hit him and you chuckled at his puzzled expression at what to do with whatever was in his hands. He told you to close your eyes and not open them until he shoved the thing he had in his hands in Baby through the window. He gave you the green light to open his eyes. You gave out a count of three out loud and then brought the slinky in front of you. Dean gasped, his whole face lighting up with a million megawatt smile, just like you had imagined, lighting up your whole world in the process.

“No! Oh, you’re the best girlfriend EVER!!! I LOVE YOU AND YOU’RE SO FREAKING AWESOME!!!” Dean blurted out, voice raising with each word, probably on cloud nine right now. Your face heated up at his words but you just dismissed them, mumbling ‘yeah yeah’ while looking down at your feet.

“Okay time for your surprise!”- He said, remembering what he had stuffed in the window earlier, -“Close your eyes.”- he insisted, turning around to get it out of the car while you shut your eyes, -”And no cheating!” You chuckled at his childish behaviour, loving it all the same.

“You need some help with that?” You teased him, after a few minutes passed and you heard him struggling to get it out of the car. He grunted an ‘almost done’ making you chuckle again.

“Alright, open up, sweetheart.” He said.

“YOU DID NOT!!” You gasped as you saw what he was holding in his hands, happy tears making your eyes blurry, reminding you of your childhood.

You instantly took the giant, almost as big as you, Stitch stuffed plush from his arms, squeezing it tightly against yourself. You couldn’t believe he got that for you. That little alien meant the world to you.

“I saw it at a shooting game after you left and I just couldn’t not get it for you. I know how much you love the movie and this weird guy. And also this is compensation if you didn’t have a good time tonight.” He told you and you looked up at him.

“Dean I...this...YOU are the best boyfriend in this universe and all the others. You don’t know how much this means to me...I...I love you.” You stuttered, words not coming to you as your feelings overwhelmed you, your voice getting smaller at the end.

He stepped forward, crashing his lips on yours, kissing you passionately while his large hands cupped your face. You kissed him back with the same passion, pouring all the feelings you felt into it, immense love for a certain green eyed man being the biggest. You parted when the need for oxygen became too much and rested your forehead on his.

“You should find yourself a new bed to sleep in because I just found a new cuddle buddy I won’t be letting go of any time soon.” You teased him, a smile playing on your lips.

“Pfft yeah right.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry Stitch, unfortunately I kinda love him the most.” You said with mock sadness in your tone.

“Unfortunately my ass!” He grumbled and you laughed at that.

“I love you. So so much.” You said, pecking his lips.

“I know. Now get your cute butt in the car. It’s getting late and we gotta go home.” He said, lightly smacking your ass as you rounded the car to take a seat.

“Plus, I gotta show you just how much I love you for getting me that slinky.” He winked, suggestively, getting into the car.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You winked back.

*****

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT IT?!

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS PLEASE!!!

Tags - @agirlwithdemonblood | @eevvvaa | @msmarvelouswinchester | @waynes-multiverse | @deanwithscissors | @jay-and-dean | @stitchintimefan

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction

[violettelueur]

ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + RYŌMEN SUKUNA || WITH A CHUBBY S/O

| featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + ryomen sakuna from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and a lot of my side comments

| form : headcanons

| published : 23 november

| request : Hello! I would like to order jujutsu kaisen headcanons? Can I please have a large “itadori, megumi, gojo, and sukuna with a chubby s/o”? Thank you!

| barista’s notes : hiya! it is now 2:15am in the uk and now the end of my night shift ʕ·ᴥ·˵　ʔ i wanted to remind you guys that all of you are beautiful in every way, no matter what body type you have and like i will say on one of the headcanons, i believe the only time we get to judge someone is by their character once we truly get to know them (if you disagree then please don’t bash me on this - i got a few comments once i said this out loud to someone ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ) but i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee and please come again soon! goodnight everyone, get some good rest all of you! ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

ITADORI YUJI:

To be honest, I don’t think any of the boys will care that you are chubby - each and every one of us is beautiful physically, it’s our character that should be perceived in my opinion.

I don’t think Itadori would even mention about your chubbiness at all, but rather he would appreciate the little things that you do that intrigued him.

Like the way you write so neatly or the way, you would eat fish.

It’s the little things that he appreciates about you rather than your physical appearance.

However, if you were to comment about how you looked negatively, Itadori will immediately say the opposite because he genuinely knows that you are beautiful inside and out.

“Why am I so ugly? Ughh”

“Babe, stop, stop, stop, you are the most beautiful, caring and loving person I know. Please don’t put yourself down like that ever!”

Most likely, you would crush him into a hug because what he just said is the sweetest thing in the whole world - girl I would lowkey breakdown and cry, like….ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ

This boy will also feed you a lot of foods that had been introduced to him in Tokyo - this boy went on a food tour since he got to the capital.

Beef, sushi, burger, ramen, udon, you name it, he is taking you there to eat.

Of course, he would introduce you to them slowly because he knows that you have some likes and dislikes to food like any other person.

“Babe, this ramen is really good, the broth is so rich and the noodles are so chewy”

“Babe, you should try this waffle, it’s really good and sweet”

To be honest, he loves it when you wear his jumpers because no matter what you would look cute with whatever body type you have.

You just look so cuddly to him.

In conclusion; don’t worry how he thinks about you physically because to be completely honest, he really doesn’t care one single bit. 

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

Like I said before, he really doesn’t care what you look like physically if you have an unshakeable character, there is nothing more he could ask for remember?

To be honest, I think he really likes the fact that you are a bit on the chubby side - you’re basically the perfect pillow for him hehe~

He really likes to cuddle you and feel the warmth that is emitted from you, he just feels really safe in your arms and if you are in his arms, he feels like he is protecting you from the world.

At the end of missions, the team realises that he scrolls on his phone quite a bit more than he usually does, making them wonder what he was doing.

Basically, he texting you, asking if you have eaten or not making sure that you weren’t doing some stupid diet that you found on the internet.

If you haven’t eaten, he would order takeout when he would finish his own meal with his team and maybe add a few snacks here and there.

If you have eaten, Fushiguro will most likely ask for a photo of the meal that you have eaten or a picture of the dishes in the sink or on the drying rack.

Yes, man needs evidence - he really cares about you, you know, it’s really sweet.

There are also times where you would put on an outfit and just stare blankly at the mirror, leading to Fushiguro to quickly say something before you fill your mind with downgrading comments - girl if I slap that head of yours….

“You look really beautiful today,”

And he would look at you in the eye when he says this to you.

Those little comments he says to you really put you in a better mood even though he thinks they don’t make much of a difference.

He’s just saying what is on his mind - he really does find you beautiful. You are beautiful to him.

Overall, expect him to say little compliments every now and then as well as a lot of text messages - he’s just checking up on you, you better reply soon before he spams you.

 GOJO SATORU:

This man doesn't really give a damn on what you look like - no matter what he would still tease you to no end still.

He would come back with a lot of sweet souvenirs to share with you since he knows that sweets with a cup of tea really hits the both of you after an exhausting day.

He would always let you pick first on what you want to eat first and on the sidelines would comment on what he would recommend you trying if it’s the first time you tried one of the snacks he bought home.

He really likes to see you eat as you would always have that small smile once you take a bite on what you’re eating - if you are happy, he is happy.

If you comment on anything that you hate about your body, he would place a few cheeky kisses on the area that you have commented - it really doesn’t matter what area you are talking about mate.

“Are my hips too wide? Should I get a waist trainer?”

“Babe come here right now...”

And he would say that in a very stern tone - so you better go to him sweetheart before he drags you to him.

Expect a lot of cafe/dessert place dates with him, once again he would introduce you to his favourite flavours and he would buy your favourite flavours as well to try for himself.

You two seem like the couple that would share a milkshake - you know like the retro 90s theme cafe with the tall glass.

If anyone tries to say something about your appearance, I don’t think they would have the chance to even say what they would have said since they would feel knives being pointed at their heads or back - aka Gojo’s death stare with his shiny blue eyes.

In conclusion: he would kiss any part of your body that you hate and keep reminding you that you are beautiful in any way but feeding you sweets because why the hell not.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

Sukuna, Sukuna, Sukuna, this man will be the death of me.

I think he would be a little aggressive when he tells you not to worry about his appearance.

Like if you say something that is completely negative about yourself, he would grab your chin and make you face him.

He would probably have an irritated tone as he reminds you that he isn’t with you because of how you look, but who you are as a person.

“Stop saying that you’re ugly, you are a sight to behold, anyone that what’s looks at you should ask for permission first before they are blessed with the sight of you”

Girlllllll, I’m blushingggggggg~

You interest him because you have an interesting and captivating personality and to be honest, I have an idea that he loves the fact that you are chubby.

Because that means he has more areas to mark you as his hehe~

You know that Sukuna’s love language is physical touch/affection, so he would just love to touch your body with no hesitation - probably roams his hands around as well

During a makeout, don’t be surprised when he would grip some part of your body - most likely your thigh, hip, neck, face, basically anywhere at this point.

He would probably leave a lot of open kisses upon your skin as a way to physically tell you that he loves all parts of you.

Sometimes, he would probably make you wear the other layer of his kimono because you would look so adorable and mostly like delicious to him - HAHAHA WHAT DID I JUST TYPE?!

If the both of you are cuddling, Sukuna will most likely caress any part of your body or trace his finger on your skin to feel every bump and trace every stretch marks before telling you that are you beautiful.

In conclusion; Sukuna will tell you physically on how much he loves your body and how much he really worships it (well...he won’t admit it but you can slowly tell over him)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #itadori yuji #itadori yujii #itadori yuuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk itadori #jjk fushiguro #jjk gojo #jjk sukuna

[holy-hyuck]

NCT 127 Reaction: They See You Wearing Their Clothes

Taeil:

You fell asleep in the boys’ dorm, Taeil carrying you to his room in the middle of the night. You must have been exhausted because you woke up only in the morning, the room quite cold. You only had a thin shirt on you, so you grabbed Taeil’s hoodie, once you recognised it as his, and slipped in on top of you, your jeans from the day before still intact and looking decent enough.

You walked downstairs, seeing Taeil and Taeyong in the kitchen, the latter turning on the stove to make breakfast. Looking at the clock, you realised it was a time they’d normally wake up, so you were glad you didn’t oversleep.

Taeil looked at you, his smile only widening once he saw the oversized clothing on you, a dazed expression on his face. Even Taeyong turned around and chuckled lightly, half at the way you looked, and half at Taeil’s reaction.

“What-what is that? Ah, you look so cute.”

But you could see it was making him flustered, so when you warmed up a bit, you took the hoodie off, leaving you in yesterday’s clothes.

Johnny:

"So..." Wendy started, popping a grape in her mouth, "Are you and Johnny, like, a thing?"

"What?" You scoffed. "Why would you think that?"

"Think about it; you're always together, he calls you 'babes', you have hearts next to his contact name, need I go on?"

"Yeah, and isn't that his shirt you're wearing?" Seulgi butted in, leaning her head on Wendy's shoulder.

You looked down at the black tee, indeed belonging to Johnny. "I forgot to bring spare clothes when I slept over at his." At this, the girls raised their eyebrows and looked at you with a knowing look. "No, it's not like that! Ugh, we're just friends."

Just then, you felt strong arms wrap around your frame, pulling you in a hug.

"Hi babes, hi girls. How's it going? You look nice in my shirt, by the way. Maybe I should let you borrow them more often," Johnny told you, grabbing a few grapes from the bowl for himself.

You looked over at Wendy and Seulgi, who both giggled and shook their heads.

Just friends, you mouthed to them. Unfortunately.

Taeyong:

"Isn't it Taeyong-hyung's?" You heard Mark's voice when you jumped down from the last step and skipped into the living room.

"Shh." You covered his mouth with your sweater paws, effectively shutting him up.

"Ah, I knew someone stole it." Taeyong came into the room, leaning against the doorway. You gave him a sheepish smile, rubbing your arms through the thick material of his sweatshirt.

"Sorry, I was cold. I can take it off if you want, borrow someone else's-"

"No, no, no need." He came up to you, holding you at an arms-length and checking you out in the muted blue of his top, heart fluttering. "I like how it looks on you."

Yuta:

Getting up from your seat, you cheered for Yuta, your voice drowning amongst all the others’ - and yet, the boy could hear it as clear as day, looking up to see you in the bleachers. He scored the winning goal, like you knew he would without a doubt, and perhaps that knowledge made you even more proud to be wearing his jersey, with his number on the back.

Once the two opposing teams congratulated each other, Yuta ran up the stairs to envelop you in a hug, spinning you around and grinning from ear to ear.

“You did it, you did it! I knew you would!” you exclaimed, gripping his shirt in your hands.

Yuta took this moment to plant a chaste kiss on your lips, although it turned more and more passionate by the second - to a point where you had to stop him before his coach witnessed your make-out session.

“Is that my jersey?” You nod your head enthusiastically. “Marry me.”

Your laugh pierced the voices of others leaving the stadium, and you threw your head back.

“Let me buy you dinner first.”

Doyoung:

Doyoung took off the glasses from his face, rubbing his eyes and groaning. This report wasn't going to finish itself, but his body begged him to let him sleep.

He felt the weight shift next to him and looked up to see you take his glasses into your hands. You proceeded to put them on, and looking at him, wiggled your eyebrows. He burst out laughing, at half-past-two at night, feeling you hit his shoulder to tell him not to laugh at you.

"You look ridiculous."

Not really. You looked perfect; your hair messy, old and stained shirt covering the upper half of your body, his sweatpants covering the lower, his glasses perched up on your nose. And at half-past-two at night, his sight blurry and mind hazy, he fell in love.

Jaehyun:

It was Jaehyun’s idea you wear his clothes. He always wanted to be “that couple” but was too shy to ask. So, after you got back from your date, completely soaked after the thunderstorm that started halfway through, you knew you wouldn’t be going back to your house anytime soon.

Seeing this perfect opportunity, Jaehyun took one of his jumpers and a pair of shorts and told you to change. Underwear thankfully dry, you put on his clothes, exiting the bathroom to see him making hot chocolate.

He turned around to greet you, his smile only growing bigger, his dimples showing. Screaming in excitement on the inside, he just walked up to you, embracing you in a hug, which you found strange but accepted nonetheless.

“Even better than I imagined.”

He muttered to himself, and when you gave him a questioning look, he just smiled, leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

WinWin:

WinWin never thought it would get to him as much as it did. Most of the times the two of you spent were with the other boys, the perfect opportunity to offer you his clothes being a movie night but he didn’t want to get teased by them.

The two of you were walking back from shopping, the weather not quite as nice as it was before. The wind picked up and you still had over twenty minutes to walk back to your house, and even more to the dorms.

Shivering involuntarily, you wrapped your arms around yourself to keep the cold away, but needless to say, haven’t succeeded.

With the wind blocking out some sounds, you didn’t hear the commotion next to you. Plus, Taeyong was trying to be subtle about it - that, however, wasn’t a problem with Donghyuck.

“Yah, Sicheng, aren’t you going to give (y/n) your jacket or something? You know, like a sweet boyfriend would,” he said, a hint of teasing present, as per usual.

Blushing, your boyfriend took off his hoodie, revealing a jumper underneath (so you knew he wouldn’t be that cold himself), and passed it over to you, without looking at you. You thanked him, putting it on, instantly feeling warmer. Sicheng wouldn’t look at you (besides the subtle glances) or speak to you until you arrived at your house, you promptly giving him his clothing back, and seeing how he reacted, you made a mental note to yourself to always try bringing a spare jacket with you when you two went out.

Jungwoo:

Sitting on the hood of Jungwoo's car, you scrolled through the weather forecast as your date tried to repair the vehicle.

"It says there's an eighty-three percent chance of rain," you told him, looking back to see him sigh and lean back on the driver's seat. Cursing under his breath, he got out of the car and towards you.

"Just because it says there's a chance doesn't mean-" he cut himself off when he felt the first droplets of rain fall onto his skin, and suddenly it was pouring; and there you were, laughing, hair and clothes soaked. "Here."

He took off his leather jacket, leaving him in nothing more than than a thin white tee, and wrapped it around you. The material was heavy, and it was useless at this point but you didn't want to tell him that. He held the sides and smiled down at you.

Clearing your throat, you looked away from him. "I'll call a taxi," you told him, walking away to hide inside the car.

"Wait!" You turned around, and Jungwoo grabbed the sides of the jacket, pulling you towards him and capturing your lips in a kiss. Although surprised at first, you quickly regained your senses and placed a hand on his cheek, pulling him even closer. You've never kissed in the rain but it was perfect. Everything about Jungwoo was.

"And by the way," Jungwoo started when you finally pulled away, "you look great in my clothes."

Mark:

It was so cold, so unbelievably cold in Mark's apartment. You told him to fix the heating but he's been too busy binging Netflix to bother. Shivering in your thin tee, you rummaged through Mark's closet for something warm to wear. If he wasn't going to get the heating sorted, you were going to steal every last one of his hoodies until he had no other choice.

Throwing the black, oversized hoodie over your head, you made your way downstairs and plopped on the couch beside him, making him turn his attention away from the TV screen and towards you.

"Is that my- Is that my hoodie?"

"Yes, it is. Actually, it's now mine, at least until you get the heating fixed." You crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

Laughing, he threw his arms around you and started mumbling into your neck.

"Gosh, you're so cute, you have no idea."

You let out a whine, surrendering. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Haechan:

You clipped your hair back with the lonely bobby pin in your pocket, pulling the jacket around you tighter to brace yourself for the ruthless winds outside. Exiting the shop with Donghyuck by your side, you picked up your pace to make it home before it became any colder or windier - which it did, a minute into your journey.

The wind made your eyes water and you shrunk yourself, head down, ignoring your boyfriend, who began failing to catch up to you.

Suddenly, you felt something warm wrap around your neck and turned around to find your boyfriend securing his scarf around it, unzipping your jacket to tuck it underneath, then zipping it back up. It left his neck exposed due to the low-cut t-shirt he wore under his leather jacket, and you frowned at the sight of it, opening your mouth to protest before he interrupted you.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. You look like you need it more than me."

Wrapping his arm around you, thus offering you even more of his body's warmth, he led you towards his apartment, where he made you hot cocoa and cuddled you until felt warm again.

You still didn't take off his scarf, and he never asked for it back.

#nct reactions #nct 127 reactions #nct fluff #nct 127 fluff #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #taeil reactions #johnny reactions #taeyong reactions #yuta reactions #doyoung reactions #jaehyun reactions #winwin reactions #sicheng reactions #jungwoo reactions #mark reactions #haechan reactions #donghyuck reactions

[dickwheelie]

This is a little specific so feel free to give it a pass if you're not into it, but would you like to like to do season 2 Lunch Date Era jonmartin with the 'friendly hugs' prompt? Thank you, and have a good day!

specific prompts are actually really nice, they give me something solid to work off of, so this was actually perfect! I had a lot of fun writing this one. thank you and enjoy, anon!

____________

Jon can't stop bouncing his leg.

He keeps forgetting that he's doing it, and then noticing again, and then forcibly stopping himself, but it never lasts long. The cafe is crowded and loud, which is distracting enough on its own, but Martin is also there, sitting across from him and tucking into a sandwich, gamely trying to engage Jon in conversation even though Jon keeps getting distracted and bouncing his leg.

"Jon? You there?"

Martin's voice fades back into Jon's awareness, and he shifts his gaze back to him. "Sorry," he says for the fifth time that lunch hour, "um, say that again?"

He feels bad. He does. Ever since he found out about Martin's CV, Jon's been kicking himself over how paranoid he'd been, thinking that Martin was out to get him, shouting at him over what turned out to be nothing. Jon doesn't want to be that sort of boss, that sort of person, but he'd just been so overwhelmed. He could hardly believe it when Martin asked him to join him for lunch, after all the things Jon's said to him. Still, he's grateful for the olive branch. It's too bad he keeps messing it up by forgetting to listen to Martin when he talks.

Speaking of--

"Oh, damn," Jon mutters, interrupting whatever it is Martin is trying to tell him. "Martin, god, I'm so sorry, I just got--"

"Distracted?" Martin says, and to Jon's surprise he doesn't seem annoyed, just . . . concerned. "I've noticed. Jon, are you feeling alright?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine." Jon eats the last few bites of his salad so he doesn't have to meet Martin's eyes.

"Sure? Because you seem really anxious." Martin's voice has that soft, worried lilt to it that Jon used to get annoyed by. It doesn't bother him so much anymore. It's . . . sort of nice, really, to be worried over, sometimes.

Not now, though. Because right now Jon doesn't need to be worried over. "I'm not anxious. Just . . . it's distracting in here. It's loud."

"Oh, well, let's go then," Martin says, finishing up his sandwich and standing up to gather his coat. "It's not too cold out. We can walk around downtown until lunch hour is over."

"I--" Jon wants to protest, but he realizes that yes, getting out of this small cafe would be very welcome. "That's . . . that's a good idea, actually."

His leg can't bounce when he's walking, and the early winter air is cold but not biting, and the walkways aren't crowded. Jon can feel himself calming down by the time they get a block away from the cafe. Maybe he had been a little anxious, after all. This was a very good idea. Martin has very good ideas, he thinks.

"If that cafe was too much," Martin is telling him, and thankfully Jon is actually able to listen to him now, "there's another place we could try next time. New Indian place, right around the corner from the Institute. Tim says he goes there whenever he has a PT appointment, to treat himself."

Jon wants to go back to the fact that Martin wants there to be a next time, but for now there's something more pressing to address. "Tim's still doing physical therapy?" he says. He'd thought he was finished weeks ago.

"Yeah, he says it's just follow-up appointments. He's mostly okay, they just need to make sure he's improving, I guess." Martin shoots him a sidelong look. "I thought you and he were close."

"Not, um . . . not so much anymore." Jon stuffs his hands into his coat pockets, ducking into his collar. "We don't really . . . talk."

"Oh," Martin says. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Jon doesn't want to get into it. Thankfully, Martin doesn't press the issue.

"Are you still going to PT?" Martin says instead. "You don't have to tell me, obviously. I just . . . I never see you outside the archives anymore."

Jon bites the inside of his cheek. "I, um . . . I sort of . . . stopped going. After the second appointment."

Martin stops short in the middle of the sidewalk, and Jon has to double back. "Christ, Jon!" he says, not angry, but aggravated. "You can't just skip out on that stuff, you could do permanent damage--"

"Martin, I'm fine," Jon says. "See, I'm walking around and everything. Trust me, if it was bad, I'd have kept going, but the whole thing was a waste of time and I had work to get done--"

"Your health comes first," Martin says, with finality, before his demeanor softens. "I'm not an idiot, Jon, I notice you staying late and coming in early, I notice when you skip meals. You're running yourself ragged. It's a job, Jon, and trust me, I know how important this work is, I get it, but none of it, alright, none of it's more important than you."

Jon blinks at him. He wants to protest, but every half-formed rebuttal sounds either defensive or outright silly. Martin is right, after all. Jon just wishes that he weren't, because then he wouldn't have to reevaluate everything he's been doing for the past two months.

Martin goes on, taking a step closer to him. "Just . . . you don't need to keep throwing yourself at a wall, Jon. At least give yourself a break every once in a while."

"I can't just walk away, Martin. O-Or, I don't--" Jon's voice has gone shaky. He clears his throat and tries again. "I--I don't really know how. There's just . . . there's so much, and I don't know where any of it leads, if it's leading anywhere at all, and . . . I just . . . I've no idea what I'm supposed to do about all of it."

Martin gives him a look that Jon doesn't know how to place. It's not pity, or condescension, which Jon would expect from most everyone else. He just looks . . . sort of sad. His hands are clasped in front of his chest, tugging restlessly on his fingers. "Jon, would you . . . um, that is . . ." Suddenly Martin thrusts his open arms out towards Jon and blurts out, "Would you like a hug?"

Jon's speechless. What a thing to be asked, he thinks, and especially by a coworker, no matter how well they know each other, it's completely unprofessional, and even if Martin were his closest friend, which he isn't, but even if he were, why on earth would Jon of all people need a hug? Sure, he's not doing all that great, but Martin doesn't need to know that, and anyway how is a hug supposed to fix anything, especially a hug from someone who doesn't know the half of what Jon's been going through lately, or how scared and confused he's been, or about Jon's very serious problems that are complicated and terrifying and can't be fixed with something as childish and simple as a--

"Yes, please," Jon says, the words coming out in an exhale of pent-up tension, and he all but collapses into Martin's open arms. His face lands just under Martin's chin, half-tucked into his shoulder, and he's just barely able to wrap his arms around Martin's midsection as Martin hugs him back tightly, squeezing him against his chest, and Jon had never known how strong Martin was, how much he had been hiding beneath those soft jumpers of his. His arms, all muscle beneath fat, feel as though they could fight off an army if they really wanted to, and despite his nagging paranoia, Jon can't help but feel utterly protected by them. He feels himself relaxing, bit by bit, sinking into the softness of Martin's chest, letting him hug him closer, just tight enough to be secure without hurting. As he leans into the hug, he doesn't feel any concern about Martin losing his grip or slipping backwards. Martin can take his weight; he knows this. He is as solid and reliable as a wall, and just as stubborn, and he will not drop Jon. Jon lets out a deep sigh, his breaths evening out and slowing, tension seeping from his limbs until he feels entirely relaxed. He feels cared for. He feels safe. It's been so, so long since he's felt safe.

He doesn't even notice that he's closed his eyes until Martin's arms shift around him, and Jon realizes they've been hugging for probably way longer than is normal. His eyes snap open and he backs off, hands sliding away from Martin, clearing his throat awkwardly. He tries not to miss the gentle security of Martin's arms.

"Um," Martin says, sounding like he's about to apologize, but Jon interrupts him.

"Thank you," he says, trying to keep his voice even. "That was--I, um. I needed that." When was the last time he'd hugged someone? Jon can't even remember. "It was really nice," he says quietly. Another one of Martin's brilliant ideas.

Martin nods, looking relieved, and perhaps a little fond, though it may just be Jon's imagination. "Anytime," he says, and Jon thinks he might mean it. He hopes he does. "What are friends for, eh?"

Jon blinks. Are they friends? How long has that been the case? He looks at Martin, hands stuffed into his coat pockets, a small smile on his face, and he thinks that yes, maybe they are friends. It would be nice to be friends, anyway. If Martin says they're friends, Jon won't correct him. "Yeah," he says, and he's very glad to see Martin's face brighten at the word. "I, um," and Jon needs to clear his throat again, "I-I'll try. To have a break once in a while."

"Promise?" Martin says, and Jon can't help but laugh.

"I promise."

Martin nods. "Okay. Good."

"This, today, lunch I mean, this was nice. I'd . . . um. I'd like to do it again."

"Oh! Um, sure. Definitely," Martin says, smiling.

"We can go to that Indian place," Jon says.

"Sure," Martin says. "Tomorrow?" His look is hesitant, but Jon's answer is immediate.

"Yes," he says, letting a smile run over his lips. "Yes, Martin, I'd like that very much."

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it! #my writing #my fic

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 128: Snake

"Woah," Harry said, jumping between Draco and the 35 foot Antipodean Opaleye that was rearing up her head preparing to protect her young. He let out a stream of parsletongue as he held out a hand to calm her.

And Draco watched with fascination, as he always did, at the way the dragon seemed to understand the other man even though Harry couldn't understand them.

"Show off," he teased when the dragon turned and made her way back to her nest.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Maybe don't go traipsing over to her newborn hatchlings."

"I can't help it," Draco said, craning his neck to get another peek, "They're just so cute."

The other man shook his head but Draco knew that he agreed, in the weeks to come Harry would spend more time cooing over the babies than Draco did just the way he did every time they came here for hatching season. "We should head back," Harry said, "the sun's on it's way back down."

"We still haven't seen dad, though," Draco said, searching the horizon once more for the smaller, faster Opaleye that ought to be coming back with food.

Harry sighed, "I know," he said as he started packing his bag, hissing a quick warning at Zephyr who was sunbathing on the rock next to his bag and holding out a hand for her to slither into.

"It's not enough that you have the giant snakes," he said, nodding at the dragons, "you have to bring the miniature one, too?" Draco asked as the rainbow boa slipped up Harry arm to drape around his neck.

"You know how she gets when we leave her behind in the tent," he said as he slipped the bag over his shoulders, "and she's hardly miniature," he added as they started the climb back down to where they'd pitched their tent.

(Read more below the cut)

"I'm worried about the muggle farmers," Draco said as he looked out over the rolling farm land, not far from here, where unsuspecting sheep and cows were grazing.

Harry nodded, "I know but that's why we're here, if they see anything we'll wipe their memories."

"We had to do it half a dozen times last year," he complained.

"It's not the dragons' fault that those stupid sheep are such easy prey."

Draco steadied Harry as a rock slipped out from under him, "You were supposed to talk to them."

"I did!" he protested. "Bill thinks that I can just tell them anything but they only understand like half of what I say."

"I know," Draco replied as they made it back to their camp and headed into the tent to clean up.

"Besides," Harry added, "He knows he's got to find food and the pickings are slim. Otherwise we wouldn't be this far north."

Draco collapsed into one of the cushioned chairs that they always brought with them and Zephyr slid down Harry's body and made her way over to Draco instead, curling around his neck. "Gentle," he chastised her as she wrapped tighter.

Harry glanced up from where he was unpacking their bag and hissed at her and she loosened her grip around his neck. "You're doing better with that," he commented.

He rolled his eyes as she bumped her head against his chin, "You know, oddly enough, when you suggested we get a pet I wasn't imagining that we'd get a five foot long rainbow boa that likes to try to strangle me."

"She's not trying to strangle you," Harry said as he went to see what they had in the pantry to make up for dinner, "She's just cold."

He hummed noncommittally, "I was imagining a crup," he added.

"But she's a delight," Harry said, "And they were going to kill her."

Draco sighed, "I know. And she is usually nice."

"And our flat is tiny," the other man added as he huffed a laugh, "I think it's sandwiches for dinner," Harry said.

"Alright."

Harry made up sandwiches and put some crisps on their plates, carrying one over to Draco. "You know what might work for keeping the dragons from getting after Muggle sheep?"

"What?" Draco asked through a bite of sandwich.

"If we had a wizarding sheep farm closer to here. Then they'd raise the sheep specifically for hatching season, let the dragons hunt the sheep and then go on their merry way."

"Right," Draco said, agreeing that it would make everything easier and cause a lot less hassle with trying to obliterate people. "That's a good idea but who in their right mind would want to live on a sheep farm?"

Harry shrugged, "Well whoever it was would have lots of room for a crup or a dog."

Draco paused, sandwich halfway to his mouth, "You can't be serious."

When Harry didn't say anything Draco continued.

"You want us to come and live in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. "To raise sheep?" he added incredulously.

"No," Harry said, "No, of course not. You're right-"

"Harry, I-"

He shook his head, "Forget it. Forget I said anything, yeah?"

"Wait," Draco said. "Just," he shook his head and Zephyr reached toward Harry, her neck stretching out a good seven inches until Harry held out his arm for her to wrap around. "I need a second to get my head around it."

Harry stroked his fingers over her smooth head and waited patiently.

"So, in this scenario we'd live here year round?"

He nodded, "But it would be easy to get a port key license."

"And we'd live in what?"

A soft, wistful expression slipped across Harry's face. "A cozy little cottage with a fireplace that Zephyr can curl up near and where we can warm up after a morning outside feeding the goats and the sheep. The bathroom would have a big claw foot tub big enough for two. And we'd have a cozy afghan that Molly knit for us to drape over the back of the couch. You'd wear cozy cable knit jumpers and wellies from the beginning of autumn through the spring."

"What else?"

Harry gave him a little smile, "We'd shear the sheep ourselves in the spring and learn how to convert it into yarn so Molly can make you more jumpers and make us more afghans."

"Is that all?" he asked.

His partner shook his head, "I'd learn to make stew and shepherds pie, all of the hot comfort dishes around here. And in the summer we'd grow a garden with vegetables and fruits." His toe brushed over Draco's as he continued, "You'd wear one of those giant sunhats to keep yourself from burning. Maybe we'd get some chickens, too."

"It sounds sort of nice when you put it that way," he confessed.

"Doesn't it?"

He thought for a long moment, "Then lets do it."

"Really?" Harry asked, perking up at the possible yes.

"Yeah," Draco answered, smiling at him, heart warming in his chest at the smile on Harry's face. "Why not? If we're terrible at it, we can always quit."

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

Harry sprung up from his chair and moved to straddle Draco's lap, pressing his lips to Draco's. "You're the best."

"I know," he replied with a laugh as he leaned up to meet Harry's kiss. "What have we got to lose?"

And the truth was that they had nothing to lose and everything to gain. They lived out the rest of their days tending sheep, and chickens, and dragons, and any other creature that wandered in.

It was nothing like Draco had expected when he was young and it was infinitely better.

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Day 127: Fake Dating | Day 129: Pangea

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #fluff #dragons #drarry ficlet #drarry drabbles #established relationship #love #i'll touch this up in the morning- I'm too sleepy!

[wizkiddx]

this deleted itself but the req was for an ill reader who likes to try and carry on even if they feeling shit and tom noticing I think?!?

Summary:  you take start to feel a bit shit  at toms family barbecue and get caught out and taken care of

///////////

It should've be lovely, an evening in the rare but much appreciated British summer sun in Dom and Nikki’s garden. Everyone was there; all the Holland boys; both sets of Tom’s grandparents; Haz and his long time girlfriend Lucie. It was a reunion of sorts, although no one had been away working, you’d somehow all timed your individual holidays simultaneously. You and Tom to Australia; Sam and Harry to south-east Asia; Paddy, Dom and Nikki to Sweden. Having all returned in the space of a week, everyone was catching up, involving great British barbecues (which are always a little disappointing) and a fair amount of booze.

You were sat on the garden furniture with Tessa (Tom’s grandma), Nikki and Lucie. Very much a ‘girl power’ meeting if ever there was - which in a family full of boys was often needed just to keep the peace. Everything about the evening was lovely… except perhaps your body. God knows why, because you rarely got ill - having not had a day off work in two years. As much as you’d been trying to push away the slow creeping feeling for a couple of hours - it was now getting impossible to ignore. The slightly unsettled feeling in your stomach had you fidgeting in the wooden chair constantly, trying to ease it by shifting positions... to no avail.

“Y/n… Y/n?” Looking up to see three pairs of beady eyes trained on you, you faked a smile, looking over to Nikki who had been calling your name. “Tess was asking how long the flight back was?” “Oh sorry, was miles away!” You tried to cover, shifting once again, this time pressing a hand to your lower abdomen in the hope that’d distract you as you turned slightly to make eye contact with Tessa. “And I think 11 hours ish.” The girls all pulled a grimacing face in sympathy, to which you chuckled at. “No no honestly cos Tom spoiled me completely so we were in the fancy seats, I honestly was spark out of it the whole time!”

It was enough of a response for the girls to all nod, carrying on the conversation as you, now not the main focus, rubbed your pulsing temple with your other hand - in the hope to relieve some of the building pressure. Clearly, though, you weren’t a subtle as you thought - since Lucie got your attention by bumping your shoulder and leaning in closely. “Come to the loo with me?” It sounded like a question, though it very much wasn’t - the stern look in her eye enough to scare you into agreeing. With a word to Nikki and Tess, you both stood up and made your way to the inside, not stopping until you were locked into the thankfully spacious downstairs loo - the brunette eyeing you intently. “You look like shit.” “Thanks Luc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear right now.” You sighed, sitting on top of the closed lidded loo heavily. “What’s up?” Her tone was harsh and to the point, but secretly there was a look of worry in her eyes. She was one of your best mates but sometimes could also scare you shitless. “I think I’m just tired, it’s my stomach and my head, I’ll be fine.”

Lucie didn't really seem to believe you, but respected your stubbornness and after providing you with two paracetamol capsules from her bag, she let you off - both going back into the garden, where, by now Sam was plating up the slightly charred burgers.

Naturally, you’d sat next to Tom, who had pulled your chairs right next to each other - so that his leg was pressed up against yours, his arm pulled around your shoulder. That was just Tom, away from the prying eyes of the public and media, he really was an affectionate person. He just liked to feel you there. God knows how long you all sat in those same positions, but it was long enough for the sun to set. In fact, you most definitely weren’t the person to ask, because at some point, unbeknownst to you, you’d zoned out. Nobody had noticed, under the cover of the low sunset light, until Tom felt your head briefly fall against his shoulder before it shot up once again - your eyes blinking heavily.

He frowned at the sight, seeing you huddle your arms across your body, which was bizarre due to the unbelievable hot weather in London. Yes, it might have shifted into nighttime, but it was still at least 24 degrees. So as his Dad had the entire table captivated recounting some long and complex tale of his touring days, Tom took the opportunity to squeeze your shoulder - grabbing your attention.

“You alright love?” In response you just hummed, eyes shifting up to him after a little delay - similar to how your reflexes became stunted with alcohol, though Tom suddenly realised you’d barely had more than half the glass of beer he’d poured you when you’d both arrived. “ I’said are you okay?” “Yeh… yeh I’m fine.” You forced a small tight lipped smile, whilst Tom took his arm that was round his shoulder to rest on the crown of your head before slowly stroking down your hair. “Sure? You seem a little out of it?” He pushed, still in a whisper so as not to draw attention to the two of you. “Maybe just tired.” Flat out lying, you shifted back into the backrest of the chair a little more making his hand accidentally land on your forehead rather than your hairline. He didn't move it though, instead sitting and swivelling in his chair, pressing the other side of his hand to the skin as well. “You’re burning up Y/n/n” he spoke a little louder - eyes full of concern as he looked you up and down. “No I’m a bit cold if anythin-“

That was when Nikki, from across the other side of the table got involved. She’d obviously been silently observing the two of you, now feeling the need to send you both home. “Oh, we forgot dessert! Tom, Y/n would you mind helping me bring it out?” Thank god for Nikki, for finding a cover story and stopping everyone's eyes on you. Because for someone dating, three years deep, an A-lister - you hated any sort of attention, even from those closest to you. Especially sympathy, you had absolutely no time at all for that.

Leading you into the kitchen with his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, Tom waited till the door was shut before turning to you.- claiming you were boiling and looked not so great. “I’m just a bit cold if I can borrow one of sam’s jumpers then-“ “Love, please go home.” Nikki interrupted as she wormed past Tom to put her own hand on your forehead too. “You’ve got the chills and you’ve not been normal all day. Am I right or am I right?” She was the worst to argue against. That was completely due to the fact she was always right. With a defeated nod from you, she clicked her tongue, pushing you to sit down on one of the barstools. “Tom go get a jumper from Sam’s room and order a taxi, I would drive but we’ve all been drinking.” “I can just go back by myself T, you don’t get to see your grandparents a lot and -“ “I love you but please please shut up.” Having rounded the back of your chair he pressed his lips to your temples as confirmation before scurrying off to the back of the house.

“You know he doesn’t mind at all? My son never was at my beckon call like he is with you.” There was a little smile teasing the corner of her lips as Nikki placed a glass of water in front of you, as though instructing you to take small sips. “I just feel bad, he’s always telling me how he regrets not spending more time with all of you and… well I’ve had him to myself for the fortnight in South Africa.” “Your just as much a part of the family as me or his grandparents are okay? Now when you get home..”

Nikki switched the tone to then list off all manners of ways that you needed to look after yourself once back, which she then repeated as soon as Tom returned with a black hoodie that you gratefully pulled over your head.

//////////////

By the time you got home, you were feeling so incredibly shit you weren’t even considering keeping up your brave face. Tom had wordlessly led you up the path to your shared home, unlocking the door and telling you to go straight to bed.

Perhaps he was so concerned because in the whole three years together he’d never ever seen you ill. Yes, the odd headache or whatever, as well as the occasional morning after the night before when you’d opted for a ‘tactical chunder’ to try and protect your modesty. But other than that, you were always the one being sympathetic to him. When he was tired, both emotionally and mentally from work; when he hurt his knee and was on forced bed rest for a couple of days ( which turns out to be the hardest time for you too, dealing with the whiny and fidgety boy man).

He came up a couple of minutes later, by which point you’d already pulled joggers on and wrapped yourself as tightly in the duvet as physically possible. If felt so bloody cold your teeth were actually chattering as you curled up into the smallest ball possible. In his hands was a small tray, carrying a steaming mug; a collection of all the different pill packets you kept in the medicine cabinet (as Tom himself had no idea which one was right so decided to use them all); a hot water bottle and what looked like a damp towel, all scrunched up.

No matter how shitty you felt you had a smile at how sweet and doting Tom was being... and as much as you hated the sympathy - if it was always given by a ripped and beautiful brunette with the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen… well just maybe you could get used to it. After snatching the hotwater bottle up immediately, then letting Tom fuss over you in every which way he wanted you gave in, losing the ability to entertain his puppy energy.

“Can we just go to sleep please?” You whined, which Tom nodded to - quickly getting changed and ready before joining you in bed.

As soon as he felt the way the bed was practically vibrating with the chills you were suffering from, he pulled you up into his chest. Now you had both your own personal heater and a hot water bottle to try and warm you up. “You wake me up if you need anything kay?”

Pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, which was nestled between his shoulder and neck. “Promise me ‘kay?” Him needing the reinforcement caused you to arch back up, looking deep into his brown eyes with the warm glow of his bedside table lamp. “You’re too good to me Tommy.” He tutted at that, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Oh no” He whispered exclaimed, making you immediately ask him what in response. “I think this fever is making you go all delusional love.” You quirked your head, causing him to continue with a cheeky grin. “Well for one, nothing would be too good for you darling and two…. When the hell have you ever called me ‘Tommy’” With him chuckling at his own joke, you rolled your eyes at his cheekiness, firmly planting your head back on his shoulder as if to shut him up. “Alright, I’ll let you off just this once cos your all feverish… get some sleep love.” “Thankyou Tommy.” “Shh love.”

And that’s how you fell asleep, finally finding a bit of warmth in Tom’s arms.

Safe to say he very much didn’t sleep so well. Yes, you felt cold - but Tom was bloody boiling. Still he didn't move because if you were comfortable, his discomfort didn’t matter. It was also a physical impossibility for him to relax until he felt (yes, technically not the most scientific way) your fever coming down. Every five minutes or so he’d gently press the back of his hand to your forehead. This boy was so whipped for you... but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

~~~feedback is really really appreciated~~~~

taglist for tom: @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @Elishi03 @arctic-monkcys @Ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester - Part Three

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 3,345

Original Blog:

@queenshelby​

Previous Parts: Part One; Part Two

***************************

The Blind Date

It was 7 o’clock when you walked into the local Irish pub, looking for your date Patrick in a crowded room. Luckily, Emma had shown you Patrick’s Facebook profile and he certainly was handsome and easily recognisable.

Unsurprisingly, when you saw him standing at the bar with a pint of Guinness, he had already caught the waitresses’ attention and she tried her best to flirt with him until you approached.

‘Hi, Patrick?’ you asked and he nodded before shaking your hand and suggesting that you find somewhere else to sit.

Eventually, you located one of the high-top tables on the other side of the pub and sat down with your beers and began talking.

Patrick was a doctor at the university campus who had graduated medical school as little as two years ago. But, whilst he clearly was smart, you quickly realised that he was somewhat arrogant and lacked a good sense of humour.

Regardless, you tried to make the most of the night until, eventually, Patrick sought some reassurance from you that you would be going home with him that night. According to him, he didn’t like wasting his time if there was nothing in it for him.

His comments caught you by surprise and you quickly advised him that you were not that kind of woman and you certainly wouldn’t go home with someone you barely knew.

Patrick was disappointed and the conversation escalated quickly when he called you a prude and referred to you as being a woman who simply uses men to get free drinks.

You were speechless and, at half time, you put $10 pounds onto the table for your drinks and excused yourself quickly, grabbing your bag and headed for the bathroom.

There was no way you would be putting up with a man like this and you couldn’t believe that Emma thought that you would like him. Did she really think as little of you, you wondered?

Later that Evening

‘Cillian, hey’ you said as, after spending ten minutes in the bathroom collecting your thoughts, you walked out towards the entrance of the pub.

‘Are you alright Y/N?’ Cillian asked as he immediately noticed your red and somewhat teary eyes.

‘Well, let’s just say that my roommate set me up on a blind date with a total wanker’ you laughed but, really, you weren’t sure whether you should laugh or cry after what he had said to you. It certainly didn’t help your self-esteem and that was something you struggled with.

What you were, however, sure about was that you were ready to leave even if that meant that you would miss the second part of the game.

‘Do you want to get out of here?’ Cillian asked, his hand resting on your shoulder and his eyes giving you a concerning but yet reassuring look.

You quickly nodded and Cillian responded with a simple ‘common then’ before dumping his half full pint of beer and walking outside with you.

Once you made it out of the door unnoticed, you inhaled deeply. ‘Damn and I really wanted to see the game. Ireland is so close this time’ you pouted slightly disappointed.

‘I am going to watch the rest at my place. You are welcome to come along’ Cillian offered and you took a moment to think about his offer. You knew that your flatmates were having a party and the game was only available on pay tv and you would much rather sit on the lounge with Cillian and watch the Ireland beat France than clean up vomit and empty bottles of booze at home.

‘Uhm yes, why not. Thanks’ you said shyly and followed Cillian to his apartment which was only a five-minute stroll from the pub.

Finally some Privacy

‘Wine or beer?’ Cillian asked after you took off your shoes and sat down on the lounge in his living room.

‘Whatever you are having’ you responded and Cillian was quick to open a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

‘Thank you’ you said as he handed you a glass and sat down next to you. You really weren’t much of a red wine drinker but pretended to enjoy it.

There was an awkward silence between you as you watched the second half of the game but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

You struggled paying attention to the commentators as your mind focused on the man sitting next to you instead. The smell of his aftershave mixed with detergence he had used to wash his clothes drove you absolutely crazy. And then there were his hands, which you watched every time he reached for his glass of wine.

But it wasn’t just you watching Cillian. He watched you as well and often gazed over to you, focusing on your soft facial features.

Eventually, after about twenty minutes into the second half, you couldn’t bare the silence any longer and started a conversation.

‘So, you wanted to ask me something yesterday when I came to your office. But then you didn’t. I am curious though. What was it?’ you said shyly, slightly encouraged by the wine in your system.

‘I was actually going to ask you whether you wanted to watch the game tonight’ Cillian murmured, looking somewhat embarrassed when he looked over to you.

‘So why didn’t you?’ you went on to ask, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Because I realised how inappropriate that would have been’ he admitted and you smiled, cheeks flushing red.

‘Well, here we are’ you said nervously, looking into Cillian’s deep blue eyes for a moment before trying to look away shyly.

But, Cillian wouldn’t let you, reaching for your face with one of his hands.

‘Hey’ he said quietly as his thumb ran over your chin gently. ‘I like when you look at me’ he then went on to say and, just like that, you leaned forward and pressed your lips onto his once again.

The kiss you shared was gentle and tentative, not rushed and not forced in any way. It was a simple kiss, brief but exciting.

‘I am sorry’ you said after your lips drifted apart, but this time, you didn’t look away and your eyes got lost in his.

Cillian shook his head briefly before drawing your face closer towards his again for yet another kiss. Again, it was tentative but, this time, you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore.

‘I shouldn’t be pursuing this Y/N’ Cillian said quietly as, eventually your lips drifted apart. ‘It’s not right on so many levels’ he went on to say but you quietened his lips with a third kiss, a passionate kiss which drew your body even closer towards his until you found your way onto his lap, facing him, pressing your body against his as your tongues moved with each other in sync.

‘I am a grown woman Cillian. I can’t see anything wrong with this and I certainly don’t want you to stop kissing me’ you said as your lips drifted apart again, a shy smile escaping you as you did.

‘I am also twenty years older than you and supervising your drama project’ he then went on to say somewhat concerned.

‘I don’t care about the difference in age and, technically, you aren’t my supervisor anymore, Aidan is’ you reassured Cillian, smirking at him as you did.

‘Still, not a good look getting involved with one of the students from the project’ Cillian said reluctantly but without making any attempt to push you away.

‘Well, I could leave now and you can ask me out again in three weeks when you finish up your volunteering position’ you then suggested all while you started to grind against him, feeling his erection strain against his jeans beneath you.

Your suggestion fell on deaf ears as Cillian already struggled to contain his emotions and needs with you on top of him and, just as you finished your sentence, he affirmed what he wanted with another passionate kiss.

The kiss you were sharing soon became heated and desperate and Cillian’s hands started to roam over your warm skin beneath your thin jumper.

His touch instantly sent shivers over you skin and down your spine and sent you into overdrive when his hands began to cup your small breasts.

You moaned into his mouth and, just after you did, you pulled back slightly, allowing him to pull your jumper over your head.

As he did, you suddenly felt a little nervous and self-conscious but it was obvious. He wanted you and his lips soon met yours again.

‘Cill…’ you said in between kisses and he looked at you, responding with a quiet ‘hmm’ as his eyes were questioning what you wanted to say.

‘It’s been two years since I have been with anyone and I don’t really do one night stands’ you murmured quietly and Cillian simply smiled, caressing your face with one of his hands before responding to your comment.

‘Good’ he said before giving you a quick peck. ‘Neither do I’ he reassured you without telling you that it had been six months for him too, which is when he broke up with his last long term girlfriend Nadine.  

After another minute or two of more passionate kisses, Cillian picked you up and, before you could really prepare yourself for what was about to happen, you were in his bed.

Nervously but eager at the same time, you looked up at him with what you hoped were bedroom eyes.

He got the message and hoovered over you, kissing you gently before continuing to undress you, gentle but a little hurried.

You had already lost your jumper in the living room earlier and now he was pulling on your jeans, getting rid of them in a haste and leaving you exposed in your grey cotton underwear.

‘I didn’t quite plan for this’ you said nervously as you weren’t really dressed to impressed, your underwear simple and not sexy at all.

‘You look beautiful just the way you are Y/N’ Cillian reassured you before leaving a trail of kisses on your warm skin.

The anticipation was already killing you. With each passing second, his lips trailing over your bare shoulders and up your neck, you felt yourself shiver, the heat traveling right down to the taut muscles inside you, right between your legs. It was slick there, the result of your growing arousal.

It wasn’t long until Cillian unclipped your bra, exposing your small and perky breasts. You were impressed that he had immediately noticed the clasp of the bra at the front. He certainly paid attention to detail.

By now, your nervousness had sat in and your cheeks began to flush as his eyes gazed over your body.

Cillian noticed and simply responded with a warm smile before nudging your nose with his.

‘We can stop if you want to’ Cillian began to say but you immediately interrupted him.

‘I want you Cillian, please’ you whispered and he responded with a gentle nod.

‘Relax’ he then whispered before kissing you again and you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

‘Cillian’ you eventually moaned as he nipped your throat with his teeth before sitting back.

You opened your eyes again and watched as Cillian grabbed his shirt from the back, and pulled it down over his head. Next off were his jeans, and then his briefs.

You couldn’t help but stare at him. His body was perfect, his chest was only lightly covered with some hair and his skin was covered in freckles.

But, when you lowered your eyes, your sense of shyness returned and seeing him completely naked in front of you caused you to flush.

He was clearly aroused by you, hard and ready, even though you only just started.

As you nervously looked at him, Cillian leaned forward and began to gently run his hands over your stomach, leaning down to kiss it, before hooking his index fingers into the hem of your panties and pulling them down your legs.

You inhaled sharply, almost forgetting to breath out again as he exposed your soaking wet mound.

What now, you wondered? Like the two men you’ve been with in the past, would he proceed directly to the main event?

‘You are so sexy, you know that?’ Cillian went on to say and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘Sure’ you said nervously as he spread your legs before bending down and pressing his hot mouth right against your sopping wet slit.

You didn’t expect that and immediately let out a sharp gasp.

‘Oh god’ you moaned in pleasure as you put one of your hands in his hair and gripped the sheets beneath you with the other.

Cillian’s tongue ran through your slit several times before it swirled around over your clit gently.

‘Fuck’ you cried out, throwing your head back as he began to eat you out, his tongue working wonders on your sex-deprived pussy.

His hands were on your thighs, pushing them farther apart, fingers digging into your skin.

‘Please’ you eventually said, not even sure what you were pleading for. You just knew that he couldn't stop or you would scream.

Your pussy was sensitive, and it had been so long since you had sex and even then, you never quite experienced any sensation like this.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned even louder as he sped up the movements of his tongue.  

Within bare seconds, you came with a cry and a shudder. Unable to hold back, you let go, shutting your eyes to ride out your orgasm.

Involuntarily, you were grinding up on him, your hips lifting off the bed, toes curling.

‘That was quick’ Cillian chuckled after you came down from your high and before giving your inner thigh another quick kiss.

‘I am sorry, I don’t know what just happened’ you said somewhat embarrassed as you never had orgasmed before when being with someone else. In fact, you never even gotten close to climaxing when someone else pleasured you orally.

‘Don’t ever be sorry’ Cillian said, kissing you gently before sitting back again and reaching for the bedside table draw to his right.

You couldn’t wait to feel him inside of you and, shamelessly but also somewhat nervously, you watched him pull out a silver condom wrapper from the draw.

You bit your lip in anticipation was you watched him open the wrapper with his teeth before rolling the condom onto his hard shaft.

Cillian then leaned forward again, spreading your legs further apart with a nudge from his knees. He looked powerful above you, his body trained, stomach flat, waist trim, looking at you with such lust that you forgot for a moment that, just days ago, you were trying to forget all about him. He leaned down, kissing you, tasting you, making the heat spread all over your body as he slipped two of his fingers inside of you, curving inward.

‘Still so sensitive’ he chuckled while you gasped at the sensation.

‘Cillian, please’ you begged. But he didn't seem to hear you and put pressure down, jerking his hand and thrusting his fingers right against your previously unexplored g-spot.

‘Oh my fucking god, no no no’ you cried out, bucking your hips again almost instantly, this time squirting right into his hand. Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, your pussy still clenching on his fingers, desperate and needy.

‘Cillian, oh fuck’ you whimpered, not realising that you left a wet puddle on the sheets.

‘Wow’ Cillian grinned. He looked pretty pleased with himself as you sat up somewhat shocked, which is when you noticed what had just happened.

‘Oh my god. This is so fucking embarrassing’ you said when you noticed that you squirted for the first time.

‘Shh, it's okay’ Cillian murmured, calming you down and kissing you.

‘In fact, I think its fucking sexy and I hope I can make you do this again’ he smirked before guiding your back onto the mattress again.

‘I think you might’ you chuckled as you held out your arms and he melted into them, supporting himself with his arms.

‘I want to feel you so badly Cillian’ you moaned as his cock finally slid between your legs, making you squirm and buck your hips.

‘Patience’ Cillian said softly, and planted a kiss on the tip of your nose.

‘How can you restrain yourself?’ you asked, surprising you both.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, impossibly amused.

‘I’ve been restraining myself from wanting this for weeks’ Cillian said, and pressed his lips to your neck, kissing, nipping, biting and sucking. You closed your eyes, toes curling again, and gave into the pleasure. You did your best to wrap your legs around him, and he began to grind his cock down between your legs, right along the slit of your wet pussy.

When he finally entered you, you both let out a hiss of satisfaction, clutching at one another. The friction slow, drawn out, was enough to numb your mind. Your fingers dug into his back, his hands gripped the sheets, and he made love to you, driving inside of you with careful, deliberate movements.

‘Cillian’ you moaned as you felt him thrust in and out of you over and over again. But, hearing his groans and moans was exciting you just as much as the pleasure he gave you with his cock.

Cillian and you adjusted, getting familiar with one another, your bodies moving in slow grinds as he snapped his hips, making you shift yours off the bed. His pace quickened, and so did your breathing, and in one swift motion, you were a shuddering mess, feeling his cock hit that spot again, making you shatter.

At this point, Cillian was relentless, pounding into you, making you cry out in pleasure. You gripped his shoulders, fingernails leaving crescent marks behind, little slivers of moons, leaving your mark. He was yours and you were his.

You writhed under him, your pussy clenching around his thickness. His hands visibly shook, his breath wild as he moved in you, kissing you almost roughly, smashing his lips against yours, and in seconds, his tongue was sliding against yours as you tasted each other.

You anticipated each movement, feeling the bulge of his cock hard inside of you, filling you. Just when you thought you would come again, he withdrew and helped you to your knees, and when he entered you from behind, it was a whole other experience. He was deeper, and you seemed to drift together. You could smell his spicy aftershave, could smell your coupling in the air, thick and hazy, making you dizzy with desire.

Your bones seemed to ache from the feeling of his stomach muscles clenching hard against your back as he rutted into you. You pushed your ass back against his cock, and you found your rhythm, bodies slapping, panting and grunting in the dim light of his bedroom.

He was thrusting into you and with each passing second, you came closer and closer. You were whimpering, your entire body a mess of tightened muscles. An all-encompassing moan left your lips as his fingers found your clit, and as he rubbed, circling it, you came again, hard and fast.

Blinding gratification. Earth-shattering spasms. A delicious high, an overdose of emotions your body began to shake and your walls began to contract tightly around his thrusting cock.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned into your ear as he reached his high shortly after you did and you could feel his cock jerking inside of you.

His name was on your lips, but you couldn't say it; you couldn't say anything. You could feel every pulse inside of you, could feel every grunt and groan slip underneath your skin, could feel his taut muscles flush against your body. This wasn't just sex. It was heaven.

Just as you both finally came down from your high and while Cillian was kissing the back of your neck gently, he carefully pulled out of you and, just as he did, you could hear him swear.

‘Fuck’ he said in a trance as he pulled back, away from your body.

‘What is it?’ you asked and turned around immediately, looking down, noticing his cum leaking from you and down your inner thigh.

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo​ @vhscillian​ @ysmmsy​ @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  ​

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@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

[engie-ivy]

If searching for non-existent signs that Sirius might fancy him, is all Remus has to do to get Lily to drop her crazy theory, then so be it.

Read Part One here!

Read Part Three here!

Read The Final Part here!

Get What He's Saying: Part Two

Remus drops down on the couch next to Lily holding a cup of tea.

“Potter just left for Quidditch practice in quite a state,” Lily says. “Was he still mad about me going to Hogsmeade with Chase Danes?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I think he’s over it. He’s actually going with Hestia Jones.”

“Oh.” Lily presses her lips in a tight line. “Well, good for him. What was he getting himself worked up for now, then?”

“I guess that’s my fault,” Remus sighs. “We had this weird conversation, and I think he got upset because I didn’t believe the stuff he was telling me.”

“What did he say?”

“Oh, he was all like ‘Moony, someone told me he fancies you, and it’s serious and you should-’”

Lily lets out a shriek and bolts upright, staring at Remus with a hand covering her mouth. “Merlin’s beard, Remus! Why didn’t you say so immediately? This is huge! Potter confided in you that Black fancies you? I knew it! I just knew it! How can you be so calm about this?”

Remus blinks at her for a moment. “What? Oh. Oh! No, Lily, no. Merlin, no. Why would you even think- Serious, Lily! As in not joking.”

“Oooh.” Lily sags back on the couch. For a moment, she looks disappointed, but then she starts laughing. “I’m sorry! I totally thought you meant it was Sirius! Really, that boy’s name!”

Remus shakes his head at her, while Lily, still laughing, wipes some tears from her eyes. “Remus, Remus, Remus,” she says. “Getting my hopes up for nothing.”

“Its not my fault you’d jump to such a ridiculous conclusion!” Remus says defensively. “How can that be- Wait. Hopes up? How so hopes up? And what the hell did you mean with ‘I knew it’?”

Lily shrugs. “‘I knew it’ is probably too strong a phrase. More like, I suspected it? Or at least I thought about the possibility before.”

Remus, who has never considered it as a possibility, gapes at her. “Why?” Is all he manages to say.

“I’m not sure,” Lily replies, looking at him thoughtfully. “He’s just... different when he’s around you. More grounded, somehow.”

“Well,” Remus mutters. “We’re best friends. Would be strange if he didn’t feel comfortable around me.”

“No,” Lily says in the same contemplating tone. “It’s different. Different than when he’s with Potter. When you two are together, it’s like... puzzle pieces falling into place.”

Remus can only stare at her. If only. If only he could be Sirius’ missing puzzle piece. But if Sirius’ puzzle is some bright, sunny landscape, Remus is a dreary raincloud that has no business being there.

Lily smiles sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know how else to phrase it.”

“Phrase it however you like,” Remus says. “I’m not going to let myself believe such fancies. It’ll only lead to disappointment.”

“Oh?” Lily smirks. “So you’d be disappointed if Black would turn out to not fancy you?”

Remus clenches his jaw. “It. Doesn’t. Matter.”

“Anyways,” Lily chuckles. “Good thing you didn’t misunderstand when Potter told you! That would’ve made for an awkward conversation.”

“The thought didn’t even cross my mind,” Remus responds. “I’d never get such an idea in my head. He’s clearly way out of my league.”

Lily opens her mouth to protest, but Remus beats her to it. “No, Lily. Don’t try to boost my confidence. ‘Remus, you’re not in a different league, you could date someone like Sirius’. James already gave me that speech. He even said I could ‘date someone exactly like Sirius’.” Remus rolls his eyes. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

“Remus...”

“And the conversation was awkward enough without misunderstandings. He kept repeating ‘it’s serious’, while giving me these weird, intense looks. Like, what can I even do with that information if he won’t tell me who it was? But when I asked, instead of answering, he just repeated ‘it’s serious’ again.”

“Remus.”

“And even if James meant it, the person who told him could’ve very well been messing with him. James can tell me this person was serious all he wants, but how can he be sure? I mean-”

“Remus!”

“What?”

“Remus! Bloody hell, Remus!”

“Yes, Lily what?”

“Remus, for Godric’s sake, Remus. You bloody idiot!”

“What, Lily? What am I missing?”

“I’ll tell you what you’re missing, you bloody oaf!” Lily crosses her arms over her chest, giving Remus a firm stare. “You’re missing the whole bloody fact that Potter looked you right in the eyes and told you Black totally fancies you!”

“He... What?” Remus chokes. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

Lily sniffs. “From what I gather, he wasn’t even very subtle about it.”

“No, Lily. No.” Remus shakes his head. “I really think I would’ve noticed!”

Lily raises an eyebrow. “Do you, Remus? Do you really?”

“You weren’t even there,” Remus mutters.

“Alright, alright.” Lily throws up her hands. “So he didn’t consequently phrase it as ‘it’s serious’ and ‘this person was serious’, and never anything like ‘I’m serious’ or ‘it’s for real’?”

“Well, yeah, he did, but-”

“And wasn’t he throwing you meaningful, emphatic looks every time he said that?”

“He was, but that doesn’t necessarily mean-”

“Come on, Remus! He was sending you a message, you must acknowledge that!”

“Lily, please,” Remus says pleading. “I can’t afford to hope. Hope... is dangerous.”

Lily’s face softens. “Remus, I don’t expect you to run up to him right now and declare your undying love. Although I do think that would be the right course of action,” she adds with a stern look. “But nevertheless, you shouldn’t let fear stop you! Just... try to at least open up to the possibility. Keep your eyes open the upcoming time, for any signs he might actually like you. That’s all I ask.”

Remus sighs. “Fine. I will.”

Lily stares at him for a moment. “Nope,” she then says. “No. Nope. No, you’re not getting away with it that easily. Knowing you, Black could be wearing an ‘I love Remus Lupin’ shirt tomorrow and sit down on you lap at breakfast, and you’d go ‘ah, such an affectionate friend’.”

Remus rolls his eyes, but Lily ignores him and picks up a quill and a piece of parchment. “I’m going to make you a list of specific signs you need to keep an eye out for! Number One,” she says. “Looking at you often.”

“We are best friends,” Remus says dryly. “We do tend to look at each other occasionally.”

“You know what I mean!” Lily says, but still she adds “Looking at you often, while you aren’t talking, or doing anything interesting, so when he has no reason to be looking at you. Let’s see, what else?” She taps the quill against her chin, before bending over the parchment again. “Number Two. Blushing/biting his lip/doing that thing were he tilts his head downwards and looks up at you through his lashes while interacting with you.”

Ah, yes. That thing. Remus definitely knows that thing. Not that he has ever thought Sirius does that around him in particular.

“Number Three,” Lily continues. “Giving you loads of compliments.”

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. “He only says he likes my sweaters to have an excuse to feel how soft they are!”

“Number Four,” Lily says pointedly, while looking at Remus unwaveringly. “Making up excuses to touch you.”

Remus huffs, and looks away.

Lily taps her quill in thought again. “Oh, right! Number Five. Acting extremely jealous when other people flirt with you.”

“How the hell am I supposed to check that?” Remus asks. “It’s not like people flirt with me every day! Or any day for that matter.”

“Well, I could-”

“Oh no, Lily! Don’t you dare! James’ sad deer-eyes are heart-breaking enough without knowing I caused them.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind that much,” Lily mutters.

Remus looks at Lily, then down at the list, and then back up at Lily. “Well, hello kettle. Nice to meet you. My name is pot.”

“I’ll think of something else,” Lily says irritably. “Let’s stick to these five signs for now, starting tomorrow at breakfast. If by the end of the week you haven’t seen any of them, I’ll drop it, but if you do manage to catch a few, you have to start seeing it as a serious option. Or as Potter would say, a Sirius option.”

“Fine,” Remus says, taking the list from Lily. “If that’s what it takes to get you to drop it.”

The next morning, Remus sits down at the breakfast table in his usual seat next to Sirius, across from James and Peter. James is rambling on about some new Quidditch strategy he wants to try out, and Peter is pretending to understand and trying to ask questions that don’t sound too dumb.

As Remus reaches for the porridge, he notices Mary McDonald batting her eyes at him. At first, he frowns at her. Does she have something in her eye, or is she trying to get his attention? Is she sending him a message in Morse code or something? Her finger is twirling in her dark hair so fast, that Remus is worried it might get stuck in there. Then Lily leans over and whispers something in Mary’s ear, and Remus understands. So this is Lily’s ‘thinking of something else’ for the last point om her list.

Remus groans under his breath, but decides that he might as well get started keeping his end of the deal. He turns to Sirius, and startles when he finds Sirius, head resting on his hand, staring right at him.

Sirius, also startled, jerks his head up when he suddenly meets Remus’ gaze. Remus wouldn’t consider blushing as something Sirius Black does, but the colour on his cheeks having been caught staring is definitely red. Sirius bites his lip, and tilts his head downwards, before looking up at Remus through his lashes. “I... Erm, I was just wondering if that’s a new jumper you’re wearing?”

“Eh, no. No, it’s not.”

“Well, in any case, I like it.” Sirius gives him a small smile. “I like how it looks on you. The colour really brings out your eyes.” Sirius chuckles as he reaches out and gently brushes Remus’ hair from his eyes. “If you don’t let that floppy hair of yours cover them completely, as adorable as those curls are.”

While Remus is struggling to form a reply that makes more sense than his first urge to promise Sirius he’ll never wear anything else ever again, another voice demands his attention.

“Rrrrrremus!” Mary makes the R sound like a purr. She has walked up to him and is now standing right behind the bench where he’s sitting, leaning in close over his shoulder so she can directly speak into his ear. Really, if she’s going to lean over like that, she should button up her blouse a bit more. Poor Peter nearly chokes on his toast.

“You’re so good at DADA. I was wondering if you have time after classes for some tutoring? I could really use some practice with my wand work.”

“Eh...” Remus once again struggles to form a reply. If she really needs help it’ll be rude refuse, right? Or is it part of Lily’s scheme? And if it is, would Lily want him to refuse or agree?

Before he can say anything though, Sirius speaks up, his cold gaze intently focused on Mary. “He can’t,” he says in an icy voice. “Remus is already working on his Potions Paper after class, with me.”

Remus doesn’t recall making such plans, but they do have a Potions Paper due, and Remus does desperately need Sirius’ help when it comes to Potions, so he just nods.

“Oh, booo,” Mary pouts prettily. “Better luck next time, I suppose.”

She turns around and walks out of the Great Hall, swaying in such a manner Remus worries she might dislocate a hip. Boys all over the Great Hall hang out of their seats to watch her go, but Remus is pretty sure that Sirius is the only one who’s glaring daggers.

Even though he only started keeping an eye out five minutes ago, Remus goes over the signs on the list in his head.

Well, fuck.

Part One

Part Three

The Final Part

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #marauders era #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #lily evans #james potter

[thornedrose44]

Prompt: “I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.”

Read on AO3

"Goodnight, Kara." Lena said from across the room when she finally managed to catch Kara's eye.

It was the first time they had made eye contact since Kara had welcomed her inside at the start of the night. Kara startled at the sudden sight of Lena, waving farewell as she stepped quietly towards the door, but made no move to follow after her and when the door swung quietly shut behind her Lena knew things would never be the same.

It was Kara's birthday party (her Earth birthday party to those that happened to be in the know, which to Lena's un-surprise was a rather considerable group all things considered). Kara had invited her, further proof of the strength of their newly reaffirmed friendship. Lena had been grateful for the invite, appreciating it as the sign that they were back on the right track, and accepted it without hesitation.

She had then proceeded to spend hours upon hours thinking of the perfect gift for Kara, excitement and anticipation building in her stomach.

It would be her first proper night out in months after being thrown back into her role as CEO and dealing with all the negative press following Lex’s downfall and upcoming conviction. Her working hours had reached an excess that she had never achieved before. The blowback onto her in the form of hatred for the Luthors was even greater than last time as well, despite her crucial role in taking Lex down. She was still deemed guilty by association especially since she had been working closely with Lex for a long time before revelations about his villainy became apparent.

The news were critiquing her every move, slandering her every chance they got and rallying the masses to a fervour - she was now facing at least one assassination attempt every week.

Regardless of all that, Lena had one salvation, one light of hope that she clung onto. Her friendship with Kara. It was growing again. They were spending time together. Relearning one another or learning about each for the first time in Lena's case. The conversation was finally less stilted and the trust was back.

But there was still something missing, something stopping them from returning to exactly where they were before.

Lena, as the months ticked by, realised that they were no longer as physically close as they once were. Hugs were rare. Gentle touches of the hands were swiftly snatched back to prevent lingering. Even extended eye contact was fleeting.

Lena at first thought the problem was that she had hurt Kara so badly that the woman who sometimes communicated solely through physical affection no longer wanted to be touched by Lena. That broke something in Lena. That Kara, even though she was trying to be kind, friendly and forgiving to Lena, was not comfortable with any sort of physical contact between them, drove Lena into a drunken stupor of college-level proportions.

Once the alcohol was out of her system and she had suitably recovered from her hangover, Lena had allowed the scientist within her to take over.

No more assumptions.

She would gather evidence, make an hypothesis and work towards a solution.

If she wanted Kara back in her life properly - cuddles on the sofa and lengthy hugs a necessity of that - Lena would put the effort in.

So she observed… and what she observed was this…

Pink cheeks and bashful expressions whenever their gazes met.

A thick swallow and faltering breath whenever their hands brushed.

Deep sighs and fingers digging fleetingly into her back as if on the edge of pulling her closer whenever they embraced.

Dark eyes and teeth biting into a bottom lip whenever Lena stretched or moved her hair away from her neck.

Attraction, affection and interest .

Lena didn’t believe the results of her evidence; she re-ran the tests over and over again trying to work out if she had just interacted with Kara on an odd day, if she just happened to be thinking about something (someone) else at the same time but… it kept happening over and over again.

If it had been anyone else, Lena wouldn’t have doubted what she was seeing but… but.. This was Kara.

Kara, who she had been in love with since she had walked into her office with her cousin.

Kara, who had never picked up on or reacted to her flirts.

Kara, who had broken her heart with lies.

Kara, who meant so much to her.

Kara, who she had only just gotten back.

Was it worth the risk?

Fear had blinded her, of that she had no doubt, but was it keeping her safe from the hurtful truth of Kara not wanting to touch her anymore or from the potential happiness that Kara returned her feelings but was too sweet or shy to put herself in a position that would make Lena uncomfortable.

Lena decided to take a chance - just this once because even if she was wrong about Kara not feeling the same, she had to believe that Kara was incapable of being cruel to her if she misread it. They promised each other honesty and Lena intended to show it.

It was why she needed to buy the perfect present, something that hinted that Kara’s feelings (if Lena was right) were returned. And just a week before the party, she knew exactly what the perfect present would be.

She wrapped it personally (normally Jess would wrap any gifts she had to send out), wanting to go the extra mile. It wasn’t perfectly done, a bit messy in places and the sellotape was excessive but she had done it herself which she knew Kara would appreciate more than professional gift wrapping.

Lena, however, realised that she had made a mistake the second she arrived at Kara's.

Knew she had misread… everything …

Because Kara… Kara couldn't stand to be near her for longer than it took to say hello, accept the present and then disappear off.

Lena hadn’t expected to be with Kara for all of the party; it was Kara's party and loads of her friends were in attendance, all of whom wanted to spend it with Kara. Who wouldn't?

It's just… Lena…

Lena didn't have anyone else.

It was made abundantly clear to Lena within the first thirty seconds that she was not welcome. Alex gave her a gruff nod from across the room before turning her back to her - she still didn't trust her and Lena had prioritised winning Kara back over the last few months above everything else. Brainy and Nia smiled at her but they were deep in conversation with CatCo employees all of whom were practically snarling at Lena (clearly not Luthor fans). James was here as well and dear God did he give her such a blazing look of hatred Lena was surprised she didn't burst into flames under its ferocity. (They hadn’t dated in this rewritten universe, much to Lena’s pleasure, though his original dislike for her was clearly a mainstay of every universe).

So… Lena grabbed a drink and stood in the corner as Kara moved seamlessly between her various groups of friends and colleagues, never once sparing Lena even a glance. The majority of her movements were accompanied by William Dey, who repeatedly tried to sling an arm around Kara's shoulder - the only joy Lena got from the evening was watching Kara repeatedly squirm out from under his touch.

She held out for two hours, sipping three beers and glancing intermittently at her phone as she stayed in her corner, hoping that Kara would come over for just five minutes.

Five minutes with Kara wasn't too much to ask for, was it?

Five mere minutes with Kara would have made the whole night worth it, made the glares and malevolent whispers sent her way worth it.

It was at the two hour mark that Lena accepted the truth.

Kara wasn't going to come over to talk to her.

Kara hadn't been pulling away from her due to a sudden realisation of feelings and attraction.

Kara hadn't expected her to accept the invite. Hadn't wanted her to accept.

Kara was ashamed of her, that was why she pulled away, why she didn't acknowledge her.

Lena couldn't really blame her but that didn't mean she had to stay and take it. So gathering what was left of her dignity, she shuffled towards the door, caught Kara's eye, waved and slipped outside… though, not before retrieving the present she had brought for Kara… it would have revealed far too much and Lena didn't need to deal with that on top of everything else.

Lena returned to her office for no other reason that she still had some good liquor stored there - Kara had encouraged her a couple of months ago to cut back on her drinking and she couldn’t deny the baby blue puppy dog eyes. She staggered into her office, chucking the present she had spent hours creating onto the sofa - she would buy Kara some random meaningless gift like a nice scarf or jumper tomorrow instead - and poured herself a full tumbler before flipping open her laptop and getting to work. She lost herself in designs and business plans as she made her way through the bottle.

She used to sit and brood when she drank but Sam had made her promise she wouldn’t do that anymore, hazel eyes filled with concern at where Lena’s mind wandered when unoccupied and fuelled by alcohol. Whilst Lena was in a pretty bleak space, she refused to hurt her last (and only) friend by breaking the one promise she had made to her.

It must have been two am when Lena heard a familiar thud from the balcony followed by a gentle knock that could only belong to one person.

“Kara, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Lena called out, not bothering to lift her gaze away from her laptop screen - she wasn't sure whether the sight of Kara would evoke tears or fury and she wished to give Kara neither.

“Hey… I just wanted… I was…" Kara stammered out; Lena didn't need to see her to know that she was fidgeting with the edge of her cape as she tiptoed nervously closer. "You know… flying around and saw the light on and figured I would check in on you, see how you were doing…”

“I’m fine. Just working.” Lena replied brusquely taking a sip of her whiskey.

“And drinking…” Kara muttered, her tone more worried than disapproving but Lena took offense regardless.

“Yes. It’s a Saturday night, cut me some slack.” Lena snapped back, defiantly swallowing what was left in her glass before slamming it down onto her desk.

The loud clack as it connected with the surface was followed by a heavy, almost suffocating silence.

“You left early.” Kara whispered into the unnatural stillness, shattering the fraudulent focus Lena had on her computer screen with those three words. Kara didn't sound confused or upset, just painfully neutral as if to emotionally step back from the situation so that she could garner some emotional truth from the CEO instead.

Well, Lena was done with that, done with giving more of herself than Kara wanted so she took a deep, calming breath and allowed her painstakingly crafted mask to slip into place.

“I wasn’t the first to leave.” Lena pointed out calmly, finally turning to look at Kara, certain she could keep her voice and face blank. It was then that she saw how… small Kara looked, which was never a word Lena would have used to describe Kara in full Supergirl regalia in the entire time she had known her. Kara looked defeated and lost, a tremble to her lip and very being that she tried to hide behind a shy smile.

“Well… I didn’t get a chance to talk to you…” Kara replied, ducking her head meekly as she admitted. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Lena pursed her lips at that, “I was there for over two hours, Kara. You could have come over whenever you wanted. It wasn’t like I was occupied.”

“Yeah… what was that about?” Kara laughed, rubbing the back of her neck, trying far too hard to make her tone light as if even the idea of Lena being without company was an entirely absurd concept.

The high-pitch to Kara's laugh and the unfamiliar tension around her eyes revealed to Lena that Kara knew exactly why Lena had been standing all alone that evening.

“I’m a Luthor, Kara." Lena replied sharply, not interested in trying to smooth over the harsh truths like Kara was always so keen to do when it suited her. "No one wanted me there and they all made that very clear.”

“I wanted you there.” Kara replied so soft and earnest that Lena nearly believed her.

“I highly doubt that.” Lena scoffed derisively.

“I did.” Kara insisted, eyes desperate and pleading.

Lena merely shook her head, turning back to face her computer, “If you say so…”

“Lena, I-”

“Kara… I can’t…” Lena muttered, her voice cracking in the exact way she didn’t want it to. “I can’t do this. Just leave me alone.” Lena requested, hating how it verged on begging.

“What?” Kara murmured in shock.

“I can’t just… pretend that I’m not hurt or upset.” Lena confessed, fingers curling into fists on her desk, eyes slamming shut to lock in the tears. “I just need… time to get over it and accept what we are. So until then… please just leave me alone.”

“I hurt you.” Kara repeated, her voice broken and raw .

“Kara, I didn’t…” Lena shook her head angrily, she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to inflict herself on Kara who had tried so hard to be her friend. “It's your birthday, Kara.” Lena sighed sadly, “You get to spend it anyway you like with whomever you like.”

“I wanted to spend it with you.” Kara breathed, and Lena could hear the sharp inhales between each word that revealed that Kara was crying.

“Kara, you don’t need to…” Lena assured, with a wave of her hand, eyes focused on her lap, “let’s just leave it, okay?”

“No…” Kara gasped, and suddenly Lena felt a trembling hand connect with her own tightly curled fists, “wait… what did you mean ‘get over it’ and ‘accept what we are’?”

Lena sucked in a sharp breath at the question, biting down harshly on her bottom lip.

“Lena?” Kara pressed.

“Fuck it, fine.” Lena snapped, yanking her hands away from Kara’s infinitely soft touch and shoving herself out of her chair before storming away from Kara, desperate for space. “I thought you liked me.”

“I do-” Kara began, taking a tentative step after her.

“No, Kara.” Lena yelled, spinning back to face Kara, with a twisted snarl of total self-loathing. “Liked me.” Lena stressed, before throwing her hands up into the air as it all just boiled out of her, “God, I sound like a teenager. I thought you liked me. I thought you were touching me less because you were attracted to me. But then… I go to your party and you don’t… it was like you were ashamed of me, I sat in that fucking corner for two hours as everyone wished - out loud, I should say - that I would go. I sat in that fucking corner in the hope that you would speak to me for five minutes. For just five minutes. Because that… that would have made it all worth it. But you could barely look at me. And I realised you didn’t - don’t - like me… you’re ashamed of me, but you’re too kind to abandon me. Too noble and generous but even you have your limits. Of course, you didn’t want to spend your birthday talking to me. Of course you didn’t.”

Lena wanted to punch a wall, wanted to down the rest of her whiskey, wanted to do literally anything than be here in this moment watching the horror-struck expression on Kara’s face grow and grow with every word, watch Kara’s body tremble and shake with each harsh sweeping gesture.

“Lena, no… you…” Kara sobbed, striding towards her with fingers twitching at her sides, “you have got the complete wrong end of the stick. Actually, you’re right but also really wrong. And…” Kara swiped aggressively at the tears rolling down her cheeks as she approached Lena, stopping when the raven-haired woman flinched at their sudden closeness. “I screwed up but-”

“No. You don’t need to do this.” Lena cut in, holding a hand up to stop Kara, wanting Kara to know that her guilt was unnecessary and that she could finally be free of Lena.

“Lena, I’m so-”

“You don’t need to apologise.” Lena insisted, taking a deep breath to rein back in her swirl of her emotions. She could do this. She could let Kara go. “You were trying to be kind but you shouldn’t… god, if I make you that miserable, that uncomfortable, you shouldn’t have to force yourself to interact with me.”

“LENA!” Kara bellowed, stamping her foot to the ground and lifting her chin to reveal a determined expression.

Lena blinked in shock at the sudden volume and intensity; falling obediently quiet.

Kara placed her hands on her hips, took a deep breath, looked Lena straight in the eye with earnest, beseeching blue and declared, “I want to kiss you right now because that would be the big sweeping action that would prove to you that I mean what I’m about to say next but… you’ve been drinking… heavily from the looks of things.” Kara shot a displeased pout at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey as if it was all the bottle’s fault for Lena’s current state of inebriation and not the youngest Luthor’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. Kara turned back to face a stunned Lena, with a fond smile, “And I really want our first kiss to be one you remember and one you can fully consent to. So, you’re just going to have to believe me… please, please believe me when I say… I’m in love with you and I fucked up massively tonight. Really, really fucked up.”

“You never swear.” Lena murmured quietly, and it probably wasn’t what she should have been focusing on but her brain was currently stuck like a record scratch unable to fully comprehend what Kara had just told her; and the swear was just the cherry on top of an entire sundae of confusing and out-of-the-blue revelations.

“Which shows how much I believe that I fucked up.” Kara replied with a helpless shrug.

“But-”

“You were the only person I wanted to spend my birthday with.” Kara confessed, “Well, Alex at some point as well. But you mostly. Alex planned the party and I couldn’t…” Kara huffed out a frustrated breath and rolled her eyes, “she did this whole thing and I didn’t want to turn around and say I didn’t want it. That all I really wanted was a quiet night watching films with you because…” Kara sighed, “because then she’d know… To make it more bearable I invited you but there were so many other people, and I will be honest… I don’t even like half of them. Alex, just invited everyone I was friends on facebook with which is not a good barometer of friendship.”

Lena cleared her throat, none of it making sense, “Then why-”

“Did I ignore you?” Kara guessed with a painful wince.

“Yeah…” Lena muttered, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

“Because… because I knew, or at least I thought I knew, that you hadn’t noticed how I felt about you.” Kara explained inching just that little bit closer towards Lena, attempting to bring them within touching distance of one another. “And I knew it was only a miracle that you hadn’t until now because…” Kara smiled a lopsided, rueful and self-deprecating smile, “Lena, I am not subtle. Not at all. And I knew… I knew if I interacted with you at the party… everyone else would be able to tell in an instant how I felt.”

Lena exhaled slow and deep, arms tightening their hold around herself, “And you didn’t want them knowing you liked me?”

“Love. Not like.” Kara corrected, patient yet firm, “Love. And no, I didn’t.”

Lena nodded once in understanding, letting out a hollow laugh, “I get it. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I loved me either.”

“Lena… no… no… you…” Kara rushed to explain, finally stepping close enough to reach out and place her hands gently on Lena’s curled biceps. Lena couldn’t help how she instinctively shifted closer, wanting to increase contact with Kara after being denied it for so long. “I didn’t want anyone knowing before you.” Kara admitted.

And that… that snapped something back into place for Lena.

Made the doubts screaming inside her head quieten down just enough to think… maybe…

Because… it was being last that had broken them the first time. Being the only one not to know and now…

“I didn’t want Stacy, who used to cheat off me in exams in college to know how I felt about you before you did.” Kara said, thumbs moving back and forth against the bare skin of Lena’s arms causing a swathe of goosebumps to rise like a wave in the wake of Kara’s every touch. “They didn’t deserve that. They didn’t deserve…” Kara’s jaw clenched, eyes darkening as she studied Lena’s face, “I was trying to protect you from them. They said horrible things about you and you should know, the minute after you left, I kicked everyone who so much as looked at you funny out. It was just me, Nia, Brainy and Kelly left… Alex, as well, but we had a rather heated argument before she was allowed to stay.” Kara bowed her head in shame, “I should have kicked them all out immediately but-”

“Then they would have known.” Lena finished for her.

“I had this whole thing planned.” Kara breathed out, her hands gradually shifting away from Lena’s arms around to her back, surrounding Lena in a loose hold, Kara’s eyes flickering over Lena’s face and body rapidly searching for even the slightest sign that Lena was uncomfortable with their contact. “Once everyone left, I had set-up the roof with lights and cushions and… I was going to tell you how I felt. I just had to make it through the birthday party from hell and I was trying so hard to keep to the plan. To not spoil it. To keep it a secret so that it could just be ours but... I…” Kara’s eyes slid shut and she inhaled a shuddering breath filled with pain. “I hurt you. And there is nothing I can say to make you forgive me, but I do… I do love you so much. And I will never, ever be ashamed of you.” Kara blinked her eyes back open and leaned forward to place a kiss on Lena’s forehead. “I just wanted it to be ours and not theirs. I didn’t want to share. You’re the only thing in my life that… I didn’t want to share.”

“Open your present.” Lena demanded, stepping out of Kara’s loving embrace.

“Lena-” Kara whimpered, pained at the sudden loss of closeness.

“Open your present, Kara.” Lena repeated, jerking her chin towards the sofa where the roughly wrapped present lay.

“I… okay…” Kara replied, watching Lena closely as she tried to make sense of Lena’s clear request. Kara walked cautiously over to the couch, picking up the gift with gentle hands. “Did you wrap it yourself?” Kara asked, her entire expression brightening as she stared down at the crooked, over sellotaped wrapping.

Lena harrumphed at the question, pursing her lips.

“You did, didn’t you?” Kara teased.

“The present isn’t the piss poor wrapping.” Lena replied with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that had the corners of Kara’s lips quirking even further upwards.

“Lena Luthor wrapped my present herself…", Kara whistled in awe, blue eyes twinkling with true delight for the first time that day, "what better gift is there?”

“Open it and you might find one.” Lena said, heart leaping into her throat as Kara’s deft fingers found a line of wrapping paper she could tuck them under.

The sound of paper ripping was deafening in the stillness; all Lena could do was watch and wait.

The paper fell away leaving behind a small black box, Kara shot Lena a hesitant look and it wasn’t until Lena nodded for her to continue that Kara clicked it open.

There was a pause.

A heavy, endless pause in which Lena couldn’t bring herself to even breathe.

“What is-” Kara began before cutting off immediately as she lifted up the beautiful bracelet made of nth metal and inscribed with ‘stronger together’ in Lena’s own cursive handwriting in both english and kryptonian.

The bracelet shined under the lights in Lena’s office, but in Lena’s opinion, Kara’s eyes shined impossibly brighter.  

“You’re in love with me.” Kara whispered, seeing the present for everything Lena had hoped it would convey.

“Yes.” Lena confirmed because there was no hiding it now.

With trembling fingers Kara clasped the bracelet onto her wrist, long fingers tracing the words delicately inscribed with no small amount of wonder. Finally, she turned around and stared at Lena with so much sheer love that the youngest Luthor felt overwhelmed and like her heart might burst right out of her chest in its desire to be in Kara’s possession

Clearing her throat and clasping her hands behind her back, Lena gathered her courage and asked, “If I promise you I’ll remember it and that I am fully consenting… will you kiss me now?”

Kara was in front of her in the literal blink of the eye, hands reaching out to cup Lena’s cheeks as Lena’s hands moved to rest on Kara’s hips gently encouraging their bodies closer with a light tug.

“There is nothing I want more.” Kara assured with the widest grin that Lena had ever seen and couldn’t help but return.

Their first kiss could barely count as a kiss.

Their smiles were too wide to allow for it, but Lena wouldn’t change it even slightly. They pressed their smiles against one another, teeth knocking together and noses brushing.

It may not have been a successful kiss but it was tender and filled with so much joy that Lena wouldn’t describe it as anything less than perfect.  

Their second kiss was an actual kiss, lips slotting together, tongues seeking each other out and teeth tugging whimpers and moans from one another in an endless cycle.

Their second kiss turned into a third, a fourth, a fifth.

They kissed until the sun rose.

Kissed until their lips ached and any remaining doubts Lena may have had were pushed back into the shadows by the light of Kara’s smile and blue eyes.

#supercorp #supercorp fic

[prettyboisteveharrington]

Line without a hook

Loki is always there to comfort you. One day you return the favour.

Fluff, hurt/ comfort

It was a cold night at the Stark Tower you were in your favourite jumper in front of the TV trying not to worry

The mayority of the Avengers were out fighting the latest threat of destruction to the Earth this week.

You had been asked to stay back to rest your leg after a particular tough battle the week before that had really damaged your knee.

You felt guilty that you weren’t there helping your fellow team mates.

Loki had offered to look after you, you weren’t quite sure why as you hadn’t spent much time together. You trusted Him though. You knew Him joining the Avengers had been a little rough on Him, not everyone had warmed up to Him after What he had done to New York. You weren’t an Avenger at that time so you didn’t have to fight Him.

I you weren’t exactly friends but you were always hesitant to talk to Him. You never quite knew What to say and you never talked unless you had something meaningful to add to the conversation

You were watching an episode of our planet about forests

When Loki walked in and started boiling water

Ahhh his usual cup of tea

You smiled to yourself. Being apart of the Avengers you started to notice People’s usual habits and behaviours. You found other people facinating and you had such fun watching Them.

Loki put a cup of tea Down in front of you and you looked up at him with a questioning look on your face

‘Thank you’

He nodded at you and sat Down a few seats away from you and started to read his book.

You noticed he didn’t have any cup infront of him

‘Where’s your usual cup of tea?’

Loki smirked

‘I’m not the one who is anxious’

‘I’m not’

He looked up from his book and raised his eyebrows

‘The tea will soothe your soul’

‘I’m fine’ you insisted stubbornly crossing your arms at your chest almost like a child

‘ clearly’ Loki added dryly going back to Reading his book

‘Fine i’ll bite.. What Makes you Think I’m anxious?’ You Said and gave Him a look

‘The jumper, the Nature documentary and the look of panic that graces your features’

You sighed

‘Am i really that transparent?’

‘Yes’

‘Fantastic’ it was your turn to dryly say

‘So Can i ask why you are anxious?’ Loki asked almost carefully

You looked at him for a minute almost debating with yourself if you should tell him or not but shrugged your shoulders and gave in.

‘I’ve never missed a mission, I’ve always been in front of the action. What if it’s actually better without me there. What if I’m -‘

Not Cut out to be here? Not good enough?Useless

You thought sadly.

Loki gave you an a look of disblief

‘ you Can’t possibly Think you Don’t belong’

You shrugged

‘Sometimes I wonder if I’m cut out for it. If I had moved out the way or been faster or stronger maybe I wouldn’t have gotten hurt’

‘You’re human. It happens’ Loki said trying to reassure you

‘Wouldn’t have happened to you’ you said back Defensively

‘That’s different I’m a god. You are a midgardian’

‘Sadly yeah. I don’t like how weak it makes me feel’

‘ you might be many things y/n but weak is not one of them’

Your cheeks flushed

‘What do you mean?’ You questioned

���You are an excellent fighter, you always give it your very best and I think that’s quite admirable and definitely worthy of being part of a team ’

You shivered partly due to being cold partly because this was probably the most you had talked to the god in all the time you had been apart of the team.

With a flick of his finger your shoulders were covered in dark green blanket.

You smiled a wide smile for the first in a while.

And reached out to put your hand on his shoulder

‘Thank you’

Loki looked at your hand for a moment before looking into your eyes with an unreadable look on his face.

Before going back to reading his book and you went back to watching your documentary.

Both of you just sitting in silence and you reached over and Grabbed the cup of tea and took a sip

Mint. Your favourite flavour.

you didn’t think much of it and kept watching your documentary while you enjoyed Loki’s company.

One day you found him in the library looking for another book to read. you were in a better mood than the day he had joined you on the couch but you didn’t feel amazing either.

You gave him a nod before going over to the book shelves to browse.

You spotted your favourite book of all time and took it and sat down on the ground next to where Loki was standing and staring to read

‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your company’ Loki commented before going back to look for a book

you shrugged

‘If you don’t want company I can leave’ you suggested but he shook his head.

‘Are you anxious?’

You nodded your head

‘ what’s wrong’ he asked before sitting down next to you

‘Nightmare’ you added

‘How bad? Slight trauma or watching your family die in front of you?’

‘Burning alive kind of bad’ you shuddered

Shaking slightly

Loki flicked his fingers and a green blanket

Was around both of your shoulders.

Before he could ask if you wanted to talk about it you had already started to rant

‘ it felt so real. The flames. The burning sensation. I woke up gasping for air’

Loki hesitated before lightly touching your hand with his and he squeezed your hand in a reassuring way

‘It’s not real. You’re safe’

‘ I know’ you admitted before knocking your shoulder against his and going back to reading your book. He stayed by your side as you read.

Loki could somehow always sense when you had a bad day.. he was always ready with a book, a cup of mint tea or a blanket You had no idea how or why he cared but it was actually really sweet of him and it made you want to talk to him more.

This time you stumbled upon him having a rough day.

He hadn’t left his headquarters in days and you had become worried. So you had made him a cup of tea and had knocked on his door.

‘Loki?’ You asked

He opened the door and let you come in

He was sitting on his bed reading.

You sat down next to him and handed him the tea

‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah I’m grand’

You gave him a look that suggested you knew he was lying

‘You might be the god of mischief but you are a terrible liar’

‘Me? A terrible liar’ he said pretending to be offended

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘It’s stupid’ he reassured you

‘I doubt it’

‘Sometimes I wish I was as likeable as my brother’

You looked at Him for a moment trying to decide if it was okay to make a joke

‘The god of Mischeif jealous ?’ You joked

Loki sighed

‘I know. Stupid’

‘No! I’m sorry ‘ you Said and leaned your body next to his and he leaned into the touch.

‘Can i ask why you feel that Way?’

‘All my life people have always favoured Him over me, our parents, our friends, even the Avengers not that i blame Them though’

‘I understand How you feel. Sometimes it’s so easy for people to be so easily Well liked but harder for you’

‘Because they don’t let the burdens of the world bother them’

‘I think it’s because they push it away rather than deal with it you know? But it’s far better to deal with it than to bury it. As for the avengers- give them time and they will see how great you are’

‘You really think so?’

You nodded

‘Also not all the Avengers favour Thor over you. I happen to think he is slightly overrated. I mean he can’t magically get me a blanket when I’m cold’ you added looking into Loki’s eyes and he stared back at you with the softest smile but didn’t say anythinng

You got up from his bed and held out your hand

‘Where are we going?’ He asked as he took his hand in yours and dragged you to the kitchen where you made him sit down.

‘What are you doi-‘

‘ I’m going to make you cookies’ you added and shot him a look as to say there would be no arguing with you.

Loki sat down on the counter And watched you put all the ingredients in a bowl

‘Can i atleast help’

‘Nope just stay where you are’

‘Yes maam’ Loki Said in fake salut and you rolled your eyes but smiled.

You rambled on about your life before the Avengers. About your favourite things in the world.

When you were done you put the cookies in the oven and sat on the counter next to Loki

you were deep into a conversation when Thor came into the room

‘ WHAT IS THAT GLORIOUS SMELL’ Thor Exclaimed

‘Cookies’

You laughed and Loki rolled his eyes but tensed up a bit. You hand touched Loki’s gently giving a reassuring squeeze and Loki relaxed

‘Ah lady y/n and brother! How are yo-‘ he didn’t finish his sentence as he spotted your hands on top of Loki’s

‘Actually i just remembered i need to go ask the Captain about something’ Thor Said with a wide grin as he left the room

‘What was that about?’ You asked confused

‘Heaven knows ‘ Loki shrugged

You let out a laugh.

‘Perhaps you could crush me with your thighs’ your date said giving you a suggestive look

You regretted going on this date. Put yourself out there they Said. It Will be fun they Said.

it was definetly the last time you would listen to anyone ever again. Even Loki had encouraged you to go for it.

If you were honest you would rather be here with him instead but you didn’t know if he liked you. You had grown close lately and you saw him as a good friend if not maybe something more. You just didn’t know if he felt the same.

Your date kept making more more sexual innuendos even though you had made him aware you were uncomfortable.

You had had enough.

‘This was a mistake’ you said as you got up

Your date grabbed your hand

‘Let me go or you’ll regret it’

‘Oh come on! Things were just about to get good’

You turned around and punched him in the nose with your free hand

‘Fucking bitch’

‘ if you ever come near me again I’ll show you what a real bitch does’

And with that comment you turned back around and walked back to the headquarters in a fowl mood

Loki was on the couch reading like usual, Thor was watching some action movie with Natasha and Bruce.

‘Y/N’ Thor greeted loudly as you walked past them all in pure anger

Loki noticed this and approached the kitchen slowly he had never seen you this angry before

You Leaned against the counter trying to catch your breath while holding a drink of water

‘Y/n?’ Loki asked

You looked at him

‘I’m never going on another date ever again’

‘What happened’

‘ lewd sexual comments thrown my way and the fact that I was grabbed and held back as I decided to leave makes me never want to date another person ever again’

‘Are you hurt?’ Loki asked concerned and he was looking for bruises on your body

You looked at him with an unreadable expression and the anger from before vanished

‘I’m okay’ you reaffirmed

‘How did you get away from him?’

‘I punched him in the face’ you shrugged as if it was no big deal

‘That’s amazing. Well done’

You smiled at Loki

‘I will never date again’ you swore

‘You will find someone.You just haven’t found your person yet. Give it time it will happen ‘

‘What when I least expect it?’ You said and took a sip from your glass of water

‘PERHAPS YOU SHOULD DATE A GOD INSTEAD’ Thor exclaimed over from the couch

Loki gave him a dirty look from his place over at the counter like he was throwing daggers at him with his eyes.

You spat out your drink.

‘Ignore my foolish brother’ Loki commented and you nodded your head in agreement.

‘How about we all go out for a drink tomorrow night instead?’ Natasha asked

‘Sounds good’ you agreed.

The next day you were getting ready to go out so you got dressed in a dark green satin v neck dress that reached your ankles, it had a slit in the right side. You were wearing a long silver chain with a moonstone pendant and moonstone earrings.

You had dark lipstick on, mascara and winged eyeliner. Half of Your hair was in a messy ponytail in a half up half down kind of hairstyle.

You walked into the living room area where the others were staring at you In shock but you only noticed Loki.

You were absolutely gobsmacked, you had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in your life. He was wearing fitted black trousers and a fitted black shirt with his hair tucked behind his ears.

You were breathless and absolutely taken back because wow just wow and he was staring back at you with the same look in his eyes as you

You needed drinks tonight and many of them to distract you from doing something stupid.

Loki walked over towards you and stopped in front of you

‘You clean up nice’ he commented before giving you the brightest smile

Fuck my life

‘I could say the same about you ‘ you said nervously before your cheeks turned a dark shade of red.

‘Come on Lovebirds! Let’s go’ Tony called over his shoulder causing you both to jump a bit as you had forgotten the other Avengers were there.

Without much thought you took Loki’s hand in yours and walked out with the others, Loki hadn’t pulled his hand away but was looking at your hand in his.

Tony, Steve, Wanda and Vision had joined the rest of you for a drink at one of the local bars. Everyone was having fun and talking about anything and everything. You were finishing your second drink before deciding you needed a third.

‘I’ll get the next round you yelled before getting up.

You saw Loki being in the middle of a conversation with Thor, Bruce and Natasha, you smiled in his direction. You were happy for him. It seemed like people were finally warning up to him.

You went to the bar when you spotted your date from the other night but before he noticed you you rushed back towards the table.

‘He’s fucking here’ you breathed out

Loki looked over at you worriedly and walked over to you and Gently held your hands in his.

‘Who’s here?’ He asked calmly

‘ the jerk from my date yesterday’ you shook a bit as you spoke

‘Do you want me to take you home?’ Loki offered

You shook your head

Do you want to get revenge?’

‘No that’s childish and stupid and ‘

‘But do you want to?’ Loki asked you with a mischeivious grin gracing his features

You thought about it for a second.

‘What’s your plan?’ You asked with an expression that matched his.

Loki lead you out unto the dancefloor and you started to Dance next to each other

‘Loki How is this Revenge exactly ?’

‘Show Him that you can do whatever you want with your body. Trust me it will get under his skin. Follow my lead okay? If you are uncomfortable at any point let me know?’

You nodded

You danced for a while. A slower song came on, Loki looked at you slightly nervous.

‘One more thing? Do you trust me?’

‘Yes. With my life’

Loki looked at you somewhat differently at that moment than before but you weren’t sure what it meant.

He put his hand on your hip and his other hand in yours while your other hand was resting on his shoulders and your head was on his chest as you slowdanced on the Dancefloor.

‘Is that the guy from Yesterday?’ Loki asked

You looked in the direction Loki was looking at a guy watching Them intently

‘Yep that’s the creep’

‘Y/n?’

‘Yes?’

Loki looked Down at your lips then back up at you as if he was asking for permission

‘Yes’ you Said in a raspy voice

Loki leaned down and kissed your lips and you kissed him back with full force to the point where you were just passionately making out.

As the Slower song ended you pulled your face away from his face.

‘Is he gone?’ You asked looking in the direction of where the guy had been sitting before

‘Yes’

You pulled Loki into a hug resting your head on his shoulder

‘Thank you. So much’

‘Anytime y/n’ Loki said hugging you back fiercely

After you broke apart from the hug you went back to the others.

Loki and you held hands the rest of the evening.

The next day you woke up in the best mood. But that all changed as soon as you saw Loki.

He was reading on the couch like usual so you went over to the couch and sat down next to him.

‘Hi’ you greeted warmly

Loki didn’t look up from his book but just gave you a nod

‘Everything okay?’

Loki nodded once again and you felt your heart sinking.

Did last night mean nothing

You tried to engage in conversation with Loki a few more times but he wasn’t interested

You sighed and said

‘Didn’t realise I was that unwanted. I thought we were friends. I guess i was wrong’

You left the room before your eyes Got glossy

You avoided everyone for the rest of the day. You hid in your room.

The one person you had ever cared this much about was icing you out.

Yesterday didn’t mean anything to him and you would have to get over this stupid crush.

You were curled up in a ball in your room crying your eyes out.

Had all the times you had bonded lately not meant anything to him? Had all their moments and shared looks been for nothing.

You weren’t even sure what you were to Him now? An acquaintance?

Surely you were more than that though, you had come to Him for comfort and he had opened up to you at least a small bit?

Or were you wrong about that too?

How were you supposed to act around him now?

As the evening approached you went up to the top of the roof and sat down with a blanket wrapped you and you looked up and gazed at the stars.

You don’t know How Long you were up here for until you noticed Loki sit down next to you

You felt bad. You tensed up a bit and Got ready to go back into the headquarters.

‘Y/n please stay’ Loki pleaded almost desperately

You sat down next to Him and looked at Him expectantly

He looked Down at his hands and seemed to be shaking a bit.

Was he nervous?

You gently put your blanket around his shoulders and he looked up at you

You gave him a small smile. You knew that he didn’t get cold with being a frost giant and all but you figured it would at least be comforting and maybe it would give Him the strength to say whatever he needed to get out. He looked at you a bit more confidently now

‘ i shouldn’t have kissed you’

‘I kissed you back’ you reminded him

‘I’m sorry y/n i took things too far and i dont want to ruin our friendship ‘

You swallow a lump in your throat

‘Do you regret kissing me?’ You asked your eyes searching his

‘No! I wanted to kiss you all evening”

“Really?” You asked as your cheeks coloured

“Yes. You looked so beautiful yesterday that i couldn’t take my eyes of you”

“I felt the same way too. You took my breath away yesterday”

Loki gave you a playful grin, his eyes looking looking down at your lips and back up to your eyes

You leaned in and captured his lips with yours, kissing him with as much passion as you could muster and he kissed you back just as fiercely.

After a while you broke apart and smiled at him, your eyes gleaming.

‘If I’m being honest i agree with Thor. Perhaps i should date a god next’

‘ do you have anyone In mind?’ Loki asked and pretended to think but he had a genuine smile on his face

Your heart beated very fast in your chest

‘ a certain god of Mischeif if he is interested’

‘That Can be arranged’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely’

You leaned over towards Him and met Him halfway until your lips touched in another kiss.

Afterwards you leaned your head on his shoulder

‘The stars are so beautiful tonight’

‘Their beauty is out of this world’ Loki agreed but he wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at you

The two of you managed to Fall asleep against each other

Thor, Natasha and Bruce found you two in the morning cuddled into each other

‘YES! I TOLD YOU THEY WERE INTO EACH OTHER’ Thor exclaimed

‘Oh piss off’ you mumbled tiredly and snuggled closer to Loki’s chest being slightly annoyed that he had woken you up

Thor, Natasha and Bruce laughed

Loki kissed your forehead and wrapped his arms closer around you. He was smiling and ignoring his brother.

————-——————-

A/N: I was desperately craving some hurt/comfort in my life. Also I see Loki as more soft after he joins the Avengers, hard to get to know? sure- but softer none the less especially if he starts to care for someone. As the quote in Frozen goes ‘some people are worth melting for’

Also enjoy line without a hook because Ricky Montgomery is👌🏻

#loki fluff #loki oneshot #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #Spotify