#like you see art of The Couch Scene and read the tags
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the trigun fandom is so funny actually, i've never seen so many people have such a strong aversion to couches, we are all collectively haunted by a piece of furniture
#like you see art of The Couch Scene and read the tags#and it's all fuck that couch and whatnot and it must be so funny without context#like stampede only fans for example they live in blissful confusion#im hoping we never see that fucking couch in stampede#trigun maximum#trigun#trimax
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Reunions
Jake Seresin x F!Reader. This is my first fic, so please be nice! Dedicated to @sebsxphia - so proud of you! Thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for reading this over. Tagging a few people who might be interested: @blue-aconite @anniesocsandgeneralstore @wildbornsiren @seresinhangmanjake @callsignvalley @theharddeck
Warnings: pregnancy scare, situationships, anxiety.
You stand on your tip-toes, peering around the heads of the people in front of you on the dock, trying to get a glimpse of the gangway. Jake will be in his camo uniform, blending into the crowd of sailors walking off the carrier. The sun is so bright, the wind blowing the sea air off the water and mixing with the smells of the crowd around you. You feel a little nauseous. You haven’t seen him in three months.
An excited little girl knocks into you, hopping up and down, tugging on her father’s hand. “Mommy! Can you see Mommy?” Her father is smiling, even as the lines of exhaustion from the past few months carve down his cheeks. “She’s almost here, baby.” You stare a little too long. The noise of the crowd, the pressure of the bodies around you, the light, it’s all pressing down on you. You’re a little lightheaded. You look again at the gangway but can’t pick Jake out.
You’re staring at a family reunion, parents clutching their gangly son – do they really let kids join this young? He looks sixteen – when Jake finds you.
He looks perfect, bronzed by the sun, sea glass eyes full of light. He asked you to come get him, and he emailed you every week while he was away and called twice, and he calls you sweetheart -
“Sweetheart, you okay?” He’s been speaking. You should have been listening. You missed his first words to you.
“I-,” the words aren’t coming. Jake looks at you a moment, carefully.
“Too much noise?” he asks gently, so gently that it’s out of place in this boisterous scene. You nod, still unable to call up your voice.
“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He slings his arm around your waist and leads you back to the parking lot. Opens the passenger door for you, closes it gently. Slings his seabag into the trunk and comes around, settles into the driver’s seat.
You fold your hands tightly in your lap, braced against your stomach. It’s an old habit, to make yourself smaller. You haven’t been this tense around him since he drove you home after your fifth date.
Jake starts the car. The radio station you had on starts to play. He glances over at you as the old Garth Brooks song fills the car. You started listening to music like this with him, and kept listening when he left you. You’re pretty sure that George Strait will be in your Spotify Top 5 list this year.
The two of you head back to your place. Jake’s has been shut up for weeks, though you’ve been keeping an eye on it. He likes yours better anyway. You have soft pillows and pretty art posters on the walls, and a spice rack that you actually use. He complains that your couch isn’t big enough for a six foot naval aviator and his girl (your stomach flips again remembering when he said that), but you’ve managed okay.
Jake pulls into the apartment parking lot. There’s always a spot open for golden boy somehow, even though you usually have to circle around a couple of times and park in the back. He gets out, gets his bag, opens your door and takes your hand. You walk into the building together, take off your shoes together, bumping into each other in the small entryway to your place. You go into the living room and sit on the couch. You still haven’t spoken.
Jake joins you after he goes to the bathroom. He must have splashed water on his face, you can see the droplets on his collar. He’s tense now, too, you can tell.
“I thought I was pregnant.”
The words fall like a stone into water. His eyes widen, and drop to your flat stomach. Your hands are braced there again. You’d only been seeing him for two months before he left.
“I wasn’t – I’ve never skipped a period before, so I thought maybe – but it was probably just stress.” Stress from work, stress from family, stress from your maybe-boyfriend going to sea for three months, whatever.
But that week when you thought maybe? You’d thought about children as a hazy, dreamy someday. But this was real. You could have really had a baby – a sweet-faced baby with a round tummy and big green eyes. You could have made room in your apartment, changed your work schedule, spent Saturday mornings at the library story hour instead of sleeping off Friday night. You could have had a baby with a man who didn’t love you and probably didn’t even want to be a father.
Jake sucks in a deep breath, then exhales. “Sweetheart…” he clearly doesn’t know what to say. You’ve dropped this on him with no warning.
You stand up, pace into the kitchen. You consciously tidied up your breakfast dishes this morning even though you usually leave them for after dinner. Jake is fastidious. You run the sponge over the stovetop instead. You can never get all the grease off. Jake can.
You hear him get up and follow you. He’s leaning against the doorframe, you know without looking. You’re throwing off mixed signals, you know that. You’re not angry at him. You want him to touch you again. But you’re afraid of what he’s going to say next. If he says that the two of you weren’t serious, that it was a good thing, that he likes you a lot but he’s not cut out for fatherhood, you will either chuck the sponge straight at his head or splinter all over your kitchen floor.
“Would it have been so bad?”
What.
You spin around and gawk at him.
“I mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for a few months, but I thought you wanted kids?”
What.
“I know we’ve never talked about it but it was pretty obvious when you were playing with Payback’s kid.”
Payback’s kid is adorable. She has the entire Dagger Squad wrapped around her finger. You’re pretty sure that she has never been put down the whole time she’s been in North Island. Right before everyone deployed you all had a picnic on the beach. She was wearing the tiniest sunhat you had ever seen and punched Fanboy with her tiny baby fist when he stopped her from eating sand.
“I – what?”
Jake shifts uncomfortably. You’ve never seen him like this. He’s always so confident and smooth, whether he’s sliding up beside you at the bar or opening a car door for you or carrying you to his bedroom or kissing you goodbye and whispering for you to meet him on the dock when he gets back.
“We would have figured it out.” The light through your window dapples across his face. It must be windy, you can see the branches of the tree moving from their shadows.
You literally had never considered the conversation going this way.
“Unless you didn’t – unless I’m not the one – then I guess –”
“You are.” You didn’t even realize that your mouth had started forming the words until they were out. “I didn’t – we’ve never talked about kids, or exclusivity or anything. I didn’t want to assume…” You know that your eyes are big and hopeful and watery.
Jake’s face relaxed the second you started speaking. He crosses the kitchen to you, takes the sponge from you gently and tosses it in the sink. Blindly you grope for a dishcloth to dry your hands before they come to rest lightly on his shoulders.
“Sweetheart, it’s been you since I dropped you off on your doorstep after our first date.”
Oh. Now you’re crying.
He kisses your cheeks, kisses the tears away, then lightly sets his mouth to yours. It’s the first time in three months. You’ve missed him so, so much. The week you thought you were carrying his child you’d curled yourself around your belly every night, thinking that there was a piece of him in there. It had hurt so much more than you had expected when the test came back negative.
Jake finally pulls away, looks at you with such tenderness.
“You want a baby?”
You nod, shakily. It still feels risky to admit it. Five months together, three of those apart, isn’t long at all.
“You’d better come with me to Texas for Thanksgiving then. My dad says he’ll give me my grandma’s ring whenever I’m ready, but he wants to meet you first.”
You suck in a breath. He’s told his family about you?
“Sweetheart, I like to think I’m pretty good at reading you, but I need to hear the words.”
You tip up your chin a bit. “Oh, was that a proposal?”
He grins down at you, eyes flashing.
“Oh, you’ll know when I propose, sweetheart.”
Your smile matches his.
“I guess you also know what I’ll say, then.”
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writing patterns
tagged by @exhuastedpigeon ✨
rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 8 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!
Buck's Coma vs. Real World Checklist
0.3k | rated G | multimedia art
Turn over & look at the digital alarm clock. If the numbers can all be read, this is real. Try to breathe through a fully closed nose. If impossible, this is real.
morning glory
2.6k | rated E | buddie non-linear: the morning after the night before
He wakes up slow as molasses trickling out of the pan. A line of warmth is searing down the length of him from the back of his neck to the ticklish points behind his knees. Buck can tell the sun is up too by the weak bands of light creeping their way over the bed and just inside his field of vision.
hope is a sword
5.5k | rated T | whumptober 2023 prompt #5, debris, pinned down, "It's broken."
The next call sounds through their radios and A shift is in the engine as one in the next minute, all jammed in like sardines with sweat trickling down their backs, grins and bellies sharp with hunger. There’s no other place in the world Eddie would rather be (aside from his couch with his son and Buck, but that’s a story for another time).
proof of concept: ach tagais 'nós na hoíche
part 1 of a series | 8.2k | rated E | eddie helps buck through a bad drop
Buck’s just closed his utensil drawer as softly as it will let him, hardly gripping the edge of the kitchen counter with his other hand, when his phone chirps. The unexpectedly piercing ding of his message tone rends straight through the eardrums, making him gasp and lose his grasp on the edge of the granite.
slouching towards bethlehem to be born
ch 3/8 | 23.7k | rated M | eddie is haunted by memories that don't belong to him
Awareness blows through his eardrums and he’s rudely yanked back into the ability to chronicle two of his senses.
“Come on, Eddie! Eddie, hang on. Eddie–” the pleading, formless voice blooms out and begs him.
eros
3.1k | rated E | buddie feelings realization and a demonstration
They find themselves, like any other easy, lazy night, on Eddie’s couch. Buck looks over from his usual sprawl, attention already drifting past the moody resolve of John Wick choosing violence over the death of his dog Daisy on the Diaz’s TV screen.
slip like freudian
4.5k | rated T | slightly cracky: eddie is taught a lesson by a witch
After a rather sideways, unusual morning, Eddie finally makes it to the station parking lot. He’s somehow five minutes early, so he allots three whole minutes to lightly smacking his head against the steering wheel.
how life goes on the way it does
ch 12/12 | 39.6k | rated E | buddie & past lives movie au
Ravi’s just finished collecting the last of the devices ready for the probie charging pool when a woman with a wild halo of curls strolls into the station’s engine bay.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” he calls out to her.
definitely love to set the scene with descriptions that i always hope can help you visualize...feel like you're plopped right in the middle of a scene with a character. also like to switch povs every time i switch fics. indivdually, i can't do multiple povs within one story though. i feel like i take my cues from screenwriting more than anything when i set out to put words on the page. this is making me hungry to blow dust off my fics again!
no pressure tagging: @kitkatpancakestack, @transboybuckley, @shitouttabuck, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @devirnis, @malewifediaz, @spagheddiediaz, @puppyboybuckley, @pirrusstuff, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @pantsaretherealheroes, @lemonzestywrites, @thewolvesof1998, @captain-hen, @rewritetheending, @athenagranted, @butchdiaz, @housewifebuck, @honestlydarkprincess, @homerforsure, @anakinfallen and anyone else who wants to! it's been an age and a half since i tagged anyone for anything. mwah! 💞
#t writes#t creates#writing patterns#buddie#wow. 7 months since i wrote my first fic!#but really 4 months since i've published on ao3#youchhhh
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Writing patterns tag game!
Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!
i was tagged by @flownwrong - thank you!! for the sake of the experiment, i skipped the two notably older fics that i posted to ao3 recently enough to show up in this top 10. it was a different time, man. (i mean, hardly, but i'm skipping them anyway.)
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1) “Your hair smells nice,” Pa says.
2) Of course Pat takes notice when Pran gets his guitar out of its bag and takes it to the couch, but there’s an art to these things.
3) After all of the commotion, all of the stress, all of the dread, Steve finds the one face he’s looking for in the crowd of teens in formal wear.
4) Billy keeps saying fucking no no no to Joe about the working girls, until eventually the girls get bored and leave.
5) For three months, there’s a girl.
6) Hutch wakes up alone, but only nominally.
7) They fall into his apartment with Jill’s hand in his back pocket and his mouth attached to her clavicle – but they do fall, and when he adds a habit-driven attempt to kick the door shut, he ends up with a mouth full of her soft brown hair and she has to grab his shoulder to avoid being tripped by the doormat.
8) After they sell the restaurant, Kamekona doesn’t keep the name they gave it.
9) Most stabbings, Starsky has found in his years on the job, happen either out on the street or in the kind of apartment building mothers wouldn’t want their sons to live in.
10) When Hutch hops down the last few steps and exits the building door, there’s a familiar red car already waiting for him.
-
i think the main thing about opening lines for me is that i often try to cram in as much setup as possible, because there's a good chance the fic is mostly one dialogue scene and i've already written that part and now i'm forced to explain to my reader that they're not just voices hovering in indefinable darkness (and the easy way is to do that up top if i can, so it doesn't have to interrupt the flow of the dialogue). and then sometimes (1, 5, 6, maybe 8) i attempt to avoid throwing everyone headfirst into a soup of words (i love a ridiculously long sentence! 7, my beloved) by keeping it intentionally short and snappy. there are lots of signal words, too! two afters, when, of course, for three months. i still like "most stabbings" (9) as opening words. 4 and 5 both have the "girl" in them, which means nothing, but is still a fun coincidence in this sequence.
i'll tag (as always, with no pressure!) @redgoldblue @actingcamplibrarian @luredin @dedkake @stephmcx and anyone else who writes fic and feels like doing this. this is a fun thing to read! i'd like to see them!
#*#tag games#i sort of want to do this for last lines too now. could be interesting!#usually when last lines don't want to cooperate they're far more of a headache to me than first lines#a first line is important! it hooks the reader! but if it's not an immediate smash hit all is not lost#a last line on the other hand. there's literally no fic left after that. that's why it's the last line#it HAS to be good#or i mean. it doesn't. there are no rules. but ideally i WANT it to be good#to either put a neat little bow on what came before or (depending on the type of fic) aim one last good kick. you know
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I am about 99% sure J/D was a show invention completely 1) to play into audience expectations 2) to primarily “hide” dark Dany from the (ahem) average show watcher. Dany and Tyrion won’t even meet till the end of TWOW and so I think she won’t arrive to deal with Aegon and remaining Lannister’s till DOS. D&D used shadow elements of Martin’s plot divided into the wrong characters, out of order, and cut or redacted important character arcs. Sansa/Jeyne storyline is a great example of this.
Once some anons and I were compiling things they stole from other characters for Jxnerys (I can’t find it now but the cave scene is from an Arianne TWOW chapter, boatsex is Sam and Gilly’s...), so I agree that it’s a possibility they fabricated it.
If Martin told D&D that Jon was to kill Dany, then I could see them creating a romance to make her death seem like tragic love rather than the execution of a tyrant. In that regard, they read the room well. A lot of people thought it was disgusting, but Jxnerys shippers used to drop the clip of Jon cradling her body in the Jonsa tag to taunt us that he loved her (I'm not joking), and I've seen fan art of that shot of Dany's face when Jon stabbed her, as in, people romanticize it. I could definitely see D&D doing the math and deciding that was the best way to couch her death since Dany was the most popular character.
If Arya is to kill Dany, I'm less convinced D&D fabricated the J/D romance out of nothing as the context for her murder, but who knows. It's really hard to find logic in D&D's choices s7-8. I suppose for me it seems like it would be too easy for someone who has no personal relationship with her to kill Dany, what with Martin's interest in tormented decisions and suffering, and since I don't see time or opportunity for a lot of interaction with Dany and the Starks, Dany being Jon's relative makes it feel like he's the likely candidate because of the kin killing thing. And of course, the whole, Targ kill Targ, thing.
But you are definitely right about D&D’s habit of collapsing multiple characters into one/redistributing things, so we can always hope all of it was their invention.
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The Gentle Giant's Breaking Point (Shoji x Reader)
Art credit: @tonerukun
Requested by: @/smol_angry_rabbit on wattpad
Aged-Up!AU
Warnings: explicit smut, size kink, dirty talk, hickeys, cursing, being overpowered and completely dominated, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, tender aftercare and soft confession
Words: 6.4k
In downtown Musutafu, Shoji, Tokoyami and Ojiro were wandering around the city packed with people on a bright, sunny day. A gentle breeze blew by, swirling around the hundreds of people who decided to get some fresh air for the first time in weeks.
The second the weather warmed up, food stalls and all sorts of vendors were back on the streets. Mouthwatering scents of sesame soba, senbei and taiyaki curled deliciously into the air and wafted over to everyone within the vicinity, enticing them over to buy the scrumptious street food.
At the first sight of spring, the students of UA scattered, all eager to spend their off day outside.
Kaminari, Bakugou, Kirishima and Ashido all went to the pool, the rest of Class 1-A following in a slow trickle.
It first was Hagakure who wanted to tag along, then Uraraka, then reluctantly Jirou followed by the rest of the girls.
Midoriya sheepishly asked if he could come along too, Todoroki following suit since he'd rather be anywhere than at an empty dorm and end up having to go home to his father.
Mineta was only allowed to come with Sero's tape restricting his hands and covering his eyes. He complained the whole way there that it was unfair but no one paid any attention to him.
Shoji let his arms fall to his sides as he strolled around downtown, following Tokoyami.
He hadn't particularly wanted to go anywhere, preferring to stay in the dorms. He didn't know when was the last time where it had actually been quiet. Not since before they moved in.
He didn't really have any complaints about his classmates. If anything, he was rather happy to live in a dormitory. It meant he got to see a lot more of you.
You were best friends with him, preferring to keep to yourself most of the time, just like him.
Maybe that's why you got along so well.
Shoji never tried to bother you but it was inevitable when the last class of the day would be dismissed and everyone paired off or huddled up in their groups to talk about anything and everything. He would just be at his desk, pulling out a book or getting started on his homework so he didn't have to worry about it later and you would come over, plop yourself down in the empty desk next to him and start reading a book without a word.
He didn't mind. He rather liked your company. It was quiet. It was nice.
He was going to ask you if you wanted to come with him, Tokoyami and Ojiro today but you were gone when he woke up. At least he had your number and he messaged you to make sure you were okay.
You responded back pretty quickly that everything was fine, you just had to take care of something first and then you'd meet them at the beach.
Shoji thought nothing of it. So when Ojiro asked if he wanted to come along with them downtown because Tokoyami needed to pick up more art supplies before their next class, he readily agreed.
He honestly didn't expect to see you there, let alone run into you. Literally.
You panted, rounding the corner, your eyes round with fear as adrenaline pumped through your veins. But you weren't watching where you were going.
Crashing into someone's very solid chest, your force knocked them over, sending the two of you toppling over instantly.
Springing up, you quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry!!"
All else blanked from your head as you saw who it was you exactly landed on and your jaw dropped open.
"Shoji?!"
Suppressing a groan, he sat up, encircling your waist carefully to ensure you wouldn't fall.
His brow furrowed in confusion as he helped the two of you up into a standing position, completely ignoring Ojiro and Tokoyami's questioning stares. "What are you doing?"
You opened your mouth to answer him when all of the sudden, you were hit by a blinding light.
Various enraged cries echoed from the alley you had just rushed out of.
"Get back here!!!"
"Shoot." You muttered under your breath. "My paralysis wore off."
"You're using your quirk?!" Ojiro exclaimed in shock. "You know that's against the rules!!!"
You ushered everybody into the nearest store hastily, hiding behind All Might merchandise to keep out of sight. "You want to lecture me now or after we call the police?"
While Tokoyami dialed for the local police, Shoji shifted closer to you, using his dupli-arms to hide you from view.
"Who are they?" He asked you.
He knew you weren't the type to go around causing trouble. If you had used your quirk, it had to be because you were cornered with no way out. He knew you.
And judging by that foreign, hesitant look in your eyes, you knew it, too.
"It's nothing, I'm fine." You mumbled under your breath, refusing to look at him.
Shoji didn't say anything else on the matter, dropping it entirely when a shadow passed over him.
You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath as the men searched for you, your breath hitching when Shoji's grip around you tightened protectively. Too many times you had imagined his arms around you but this was a scenario you didn't exactly picture.
The sirens wailing outside had you relaxing the tiniest bit, the rest of the tension leaving your body as the police arrested the three men using their quirks to create destruction.
Shoji didn't let you go quite yet though. Not until he was sure every last one of them left.
Pulling back, he allowed you to slip out of his arms. And that's when he saw it.
The blood.
The cut on your cheek was smeared with crimson and he questioned how he didn't notice that sooner.
Cradling your cheek, he angled your face, his jaw ticking as he got a better look at your injury.
"Y/N."
You gulped as he used your first name without any honorific. You knew he meant business and your heart fluttered at how much he seemed to care for you in that moment.
You shoved down your feelings, forcing yourself to breathe normally, dreading that he would notice how nervous you were.
It wasn't that you really had anything to be anxious about, you knew Shoji would never judge you for any reason. Kind-hearted despite how often he had gotten teased when he was younger, he never let it affect him in any way other than pushing him towards his best self.
You always admired that about it.
Shoji was such a gentle giant and you were one of the few he told about his past and what ultimately led him to striving to become a hero.
Which is why you were so caught off guard by the anger simmering beneath the surface of his eyes as he tended to the abrasion on your cheek.
The officers contained the situation quickly, arresting those that were causing chaos. The same gang of boys who were responsible for your injuries. Tokoyami and Ojiro filed out of your makeshift hiding place first, reporting what you had seen before Shoji helped you up and they turned your attention to you.
All three of their expressions changed from quelled worry to disbelief as you denied all allegations they had clearly made against you.
Still, the police officers couldn't go against it if you didn't even admit to it but brought the boys down to the station for processing. They would be able to fit the pieces together later once the camera footage of the convenience store was recovered. Until then, they let you go.
After you refused medical treatment when the police arrived on the scene, absolutely hating hospitals, you trekked back to the dormitory to sort out your injuries.
They were rather mild and you weren't worried about it at all. The hero-in-training hovering over you though, said otherwise.
You sat on one of the many couches in the common area of Heights Alliance so that he could patch you up. It was a good thing that the dorms were empty since everyone was gone for the rare off day that they got.
Shoji had ushered Ojiro and Tokoyami to go on without him to meet up with the rest of their class at the beach, promising that he would look after you and make sure that you didn't actually need a hospital.
But you also thought it was to make sure you weren't going to do anything reckless again.
He had already scolded you for not taking your wounds seriously enough and insisted on treating them, which was a bit weird because he never was one for insisting on anything unless he felt strongly enough about it.
The atmosphere was tense as he put away the rest of the medical supplies, settling for a simple butterfly closure after he cleaned the area.
Now, he was staring at you as if he wanted to devour you. Heat flooded to your lower regions no matter how hard you tried to stop it. It was clear that he was frustrated, borderline angry and upset with you for reasons unclear to you but hope kindled in your heart.
There was no way he liked you like that. He never said anything about it before.
Regardless, no one should look that good while they were enraged. The silent fury simmering beneath the surface of his being was too good of a look on him.
"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Shoji questioned, peeling off his mask and revealed a deep-seated frown etched on his face.
Your breath caught in your throat. No matter how many times you saw his face, it never failed to take your breath away and stop time completely.
He was beautiful.
"I-I—" You stammered, at a loss for words due to his vulnerability in front of you. He clearly trusted you a great deal. You wanted to return the gesture.
Your heart rate spiked in nervousness and you swallowed hard.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your voice got quieter and more solemn as you told him about these people who had been bullying your little brother. Your parents weren't in the picture, and since your aunt, who had taken the two of you in, didn't care much other than making sure you were fed and attending school, you knew you couldn't depend on her for help.
You had been bullied too, something you told your brother the second you walked in one weekend and he burst into tears. You felt horrible. At UA, you were too far away to protect him, but you promised you'd do something about it.
Logically, you knew you should've gone to the authorities. But you were just so blinded by rage and hell bent on revenge for these boys who had struck him across the face and punched him in the eye more than once that you weren't going to let it go on for a second longer.
Shoji was silent when you finished. You played with your fingers in your lap, unsure of what to do. Maybe you talked too much.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Your head snapped up and you gaped. You didn't have an answer for him.
Shoji sighed and his eyes saddened. "You can rely on me, on our friends. We would have helped you."
You looked back down, his gaze too intense for you to hold. He was staring at you too earnestly and you felt the hurt that resonated within him at the actions you didn't take to reach out towards him.
"I know." You whispered. "But I didn't want any of you to get involved."
A discontented noise emitted from the back of his throat and Shoji's mouth pressed in a hard line, clearly disagreeing with you but not voicing it.
The silence turned uncomfortable and you shifted in place, discreetly rubbing your thighs together as a shiver passed through your body.
Your eyes widened as he draped his shawl over you. You gulped as Shoji bulking form loomed over you, your heart now beating faster for another reason entirely.
"S-Shoji?!"
"Mezo..." He murmured. "We're alone. You can call me Mezo."
This wasn't anything new, you had already been comfortable enough to call him by his given name when the two of you were on your own but this was the first time he had requested you to say it before you got a chance to speak it.
He beat you to the punch. How unlike him.
You blushed, arching your back into his touch as he gripped your waist and drew you close to him to warm you up, heat flooding to your lower regions without permission at his low voice. "Mezo."
He groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck at how intimate his name sounded when it fell from your lips. Physical affection wasn't rare between you two, but it largely remained platonic.
Until now. He couldn't suppress it any longer.
Capturing your lips in a heated kiss, he moved over you, unable to stop himself from pinning you to the couch.
"Ahh~" You moaned as he detached himself from your lips, keening as he continued down, pushing his jacket out of the way for better access to your neck. You weren't against this, but it was going too fast. You wanted him to slow down so that you could at least see him. "M-Mezo, w-wait..."
Stifling a groan, he reluctantly parted from your skin, catching your gaze.
Worried he had made you uncomfortable, he questioned, "Do you not want this?"
After you shook your head so violently that he was surprised you didn't knock into anything, he raised an eyebrow when you didn't express anything else.
"Then what's wrong?" Shoji asked lowly, voice gravelly and giving away just how much of an effect you had on him.
You bit your lip shyly at how you probably looked. Spread out for him, flushed to the core and panting. Your mind was racing. He had kissed you.
"S-Someone could walk in," You objected, stammering as you were only half aware that you guys were in the common area. "Don't you think we should— holy shit!!"
While you were protesting, he took the opportunity to latch onto the sweet spot under your neck, sucking harshly.
You couldn't help but whimper, your hands splayed against his broad chest as he continued to paint your skin with splotches of purple and pink.
"Mezo, come on, we should— eep!!"
Fed up with your objections as it hindered his passionate onslaught to your supple skin, Shoji hooked your legs around his waist, his huge hands cupping your ass as he practically sprinted to his room.
This time, your lips descended onto his, connecting the two of you together all the way there. You rocked against his hard-on pressed in between your bodies, moaning into his mouth as your core throbbed with need.
A growl ripped from the back of his throat as you did, and he leaned down to lay you on his bed, never separating himself from you for a second.
Cupping his face with both of your hands, you parted your lips, letting him explore your hot cavern. He slotted his body between your hips.
The two of you groaned in tandem as one of your hands slithered down to cup the stiff bulge and you whimpered when he pressed his knee against your clothed core. The pressure made slick pool in your panties and caused it to stick uncomfortably to your wet folds.
"Y/N..." He breathed shakily, his eyes clouded, giving away how much you affected him. "Can I—"
"Yes, please." You cut him off, unable to wait a second longer. "Please, Mezo, fuck me?"
Shoji's eyes widened and his cock got impossibly harder, straining against the confinements of his pants as he heard you beg for him. Beg for his cock to fill you up.
Fuck, that was so hot.
Your core was already throbbing with the need to have him inside of you. If he didn't do something soon you were sure you were going to combust.
Seeing his hesitancy as his fingers danced along the waistband of your pants, you quickly got tired of waiting and undressed by yourself, throwing your clothes in an uncaring heap onto the floor.
His eyes grew round in awe as your bare skin, breasts and that special place between your legs was revealed for him to freely drink in as you laid out before him, not an ounce of shame coloring your cheeks, save for the pink tips of your ears.
Cute.
Your back arched as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, his big hands kneading the soft flesh, going harder when your response spurred him on. You whined as he flicked the pebbled tit, crying out as he bit down on it gently, a shock shooting through your system.
Shoji was studying every single one of your reactions to his touch, drinking it up as his eyes devoured you with barely restrained hunger.
"So... you like to be treated roughly..." He mused as he pulled upwards, your body following his touch as he let go of your breasts abruptly. "That's very interesting."
You whimpered in protest but that faded as he took his shirt off, the defined and sculpted muscle enough to make you forget what you were about to complain about. He was ripped, his torso flexing powerfully as he threw his shirt in the direction of the growing pile of clothes.
Licking your lips, you pulled him down to his level as he hastily undid the button of his pants, shoving it just past his hips so that his cock sprang free.
Your jaw dropped. He wasn't wearing underwear?!
Aside from that, he was fucking huge. How was even going to fit inside of you?!
You weren't given any time to dwell on his size as a finger probed your entrance. Your hands shot down to his wrist instinctively.
"M-Mezo, I'm s-sensitive—!!"
You cut off with a cry as he slipped it in, stretching you out.
Shoji closed his eyes, trying to restrain himself but you were just so hot and tight, pulsing around his finger like nothing else he ever felt.
"Is it too much?" He asked caringly, kissing you to ease you through it. You were unbelievable tight, he could already feel you clenching down on his single digit. "Do you want to stop?"
If your mind wasn't clouded with lust, you would've picked up on the subtle teasing lilt of his voice, as though he already knew what you were going to say.
"No..." You protested, squeezing your eyes shut, unknowingly doing exactly what he expected.
You could take it. You wanted him to make you take it.
Your eyes widened as he cursed behind you and that was when you realized that you said that last part out loud.
Oops. You were really in for it now.
You gasped in surprise as his hands released your wrists, but it was only temporary as he hooked your legs around his waist before he was immobilizing you again. Struggling slightly even though you were clearly overpowered, you begged for him to let you touch him before you died but he refused, shutting you up with a passionate kiss that stole your breath away.
Your body lurched and you wailed as he finally sank into your cunt, moaning and panting like a dog in heat as he sheathed his massive member all the way inside of your spasming channel.
A broken whimper of his name fell from your lips as his hips finally pressed flush against your ass, mewling as his balls rested against your puckered hole. You buried your face into his neck, ashamed of your reaction. He had barely done anything yet and already you felt like you were on the brink of cumming.
"Mezo—" You warned breathlessly, mouth gaping at the sheer size of him, your hole struggling to adjust. "Ngh!!"
Shoji braced himself up on his forearms, swearing under his breath as you clamped down around him. His fingers laced with yours from where he was still pinning your arms over your head, bending down to kiss you in order to distract you from the stretch.
You were hot, tight, and squeezing him with so much force, he already felt like he was going to cum. Stuttering out your name, he hissed as you clenched around him again.
"Y-Y/N, stop— don't do that." He begged, one of his hands fisting in your hair as he held onto his last thread of restraint while you adjusted to his size.
"C-Can't help it, Mezo." You whimpered, scratching his broad back as you fought the urge to arch your hips, knowing that was just going to encourage him to move before you were ready. "You... You're so big."
He had never prided himself on things like this, by how much he received praise or compliments from others so that he didn't have to question the authenticity of it, preferring most times to simply acknowledge it then let it go so that it didn't go to his head.
But he couldn't help it with you. There was something about the way you said it that ignited a flame of passion inside of him and it could not be put out.
Your nails dug into his back and a moan ripped from your throat as you felt him swell inside of you, catching on your walls without even trying.
"M-Mezo?!" You cried out in shock. "Why are you getting, oh fuck—"
A guttural groan sounded in the empty space and he let go of you, straightening up.
"You're so tight and warm." Shoji moaned, his left hand fisting the sheets as he gave a few experimental rolls of his hips, the other caressing your hip while his eyes fixated on where the two of you were joined together. "You feel like heaven, Y/N."
You squeaked in mortification as he said that, clapping a hand over your mouth as he thrusted into you harder, unable to contain the sounds spilling out of your mouth any longer. He felt so good inside of you. Pulsing and hot, thick and hard, it was a wonder how you were delirious with pleasure on his cock.
"Fuck..." You hissed through clenched teeth, your eyes tightly screwed shut.
Shoji stilled instantly, worried he had hurt you. His eyes scanned over your flushed face in concern.
"Are you alright? Do you want to stop?" He asked quickly and would've pulled out of you if your legs didn't lock around his hips, preventing him from even thinking about it a second longer.
You desperately shook your head then yanked him down to your level.
"Go fast, Mezo, fuck me hard." You pleaded. "Please."
There was no time to feel embarrassed by the words that came out of your mouth as he obliged instantly. Stars blinded your vision and you arched into his touch as he fucked you with a vigor that wasn't present before.
Shoji slammed your wrists down above your head and he kissed you hard, all of it teeth and tongue as he licked away your whimpers before they could break the symphony of wet skin slapping against skin that broke through the still atmosphere of his room.
Both of you were glad everyone was gone for the day because with how much noise you were making, it was clear what was going on.
His lips glossed over your pulse point, licking and sucking at the flushed skin there, marking you once again.
You shivered at the sensation of having him pressed against you and yet still attending to you with the same care you had come to expect from him. Your best friend now turned lover. If this was going to be more than a one-time deal.
"Mezo!!" You cried out as he finally pulled away from your neck, satisfied with the purple that bloomed there.
Shoji's teeth sank into your shoulder as he came deep inside of you, painting your walls with hot, thick and sticky ropes of cum.
You whimpered as he emptied in your ripe cunt, his release setting off yours and the powerful shockwaves of your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami, causing your body to tremble uncontrollably. The copious amounts of his cum leaked out the instant he pulled out of you and your hole fluttered, no longer having his length to stuff you to the brim. You felt a bit sad now that you were left empty, and sat up, thinking that you guys were done.
How wrong you were.
You didn't have to look down to see that he was still hard as his cock pressed against your inner thigh the moment he kissed you again.
"Mezo?!" You shrieked, moaning wantonly against his lips as he moved over you once more. "How are you still hard?!"
He groaned, obviously in discomfort for having been denied even though he just came. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I need to cum again to make it go down."
Your tongue darted out to wet your lips at the sight of the leaking head and you moved to try and suck him off, wanting nothing more than the taste of him on your tongue as he shot his last load inside your mouth but he shook his head and stopped you short.
"You don't have to do that." Shoji said quickly, his cheeks flushing pink as he imagined you with your ass up as your cheeks were stuffed with his cock. Fuck, you'd look so good like that. But he had something else in mind.
Your eyes had glazed over a long time ago from the pleasure that he delivered to your system.
"I want to." You implored, batting your eyes at him, pupils blown wide.
Shoji surged forward, kissing you harder than last time and you melted into his touch. Any other time, he wouldn't fight you on it. But he didn't want to make you work any harder, even if it looked like you really wanted to suck him off. For now, he was content just to see you like this.
Spread out in front of him for only his eyes to see.
"Can you lay like this, Y/N?" He asked, gently maneuvering you onto your tummy and perking your rear up as a hand trailed down your spine to get you into the position he wanted to see you in. "I'll finish quickly."
You moaned quietly, still turned on and horny from before. Even though he had satisfied you so completely, there was a part of you that still longed to have him again.
You wanted him to stuff his cock in you like this.
So you couldn't help but mess with him a bit as the slick sounds of him jerking himself off started and breathy moans fell from his lips. You could go another round for him.
Poking out your ass a bit more, you smiled to yourself as his breath hitched and his movements stuttered. Swaying it from side to side purposefully to entice him, you were shocked when it worked a little too well, bringing out the beast in the tame boy that was your best friend.
Your eyes shot open and your jaw dropped open in a soundless cry as he pushed into you without warning, sinking his fat cock balls-deep into your pussy still quivering with the aftershocks of your last orgasm.
"Mezo!! Ahhh—" You cried out, caught off guard but unbelievably turned on so much that it filled you with shame.
A messy mixture of your juices and his thick cum pushed out of you as he rammed into you all the way to the hilt and all the oxygen disappeared from your lungs.
The sloppy sounds of your cunt making as he fucked you into his bed had you gripping onto his pillow and slamming it against your face to curb all the noises that were tearing from your throat.
It was yanked out of your grasp a second later.
"Don't hide, let me hear you." Shoji begged, unable to help himself from shoving his cock into the deepest parts of your little cunny. You looked so pretty spread out underneath him like this, at his mercy entirely as he pinned you down. Your arousal ran down your thighs as he continued to fuck you, his fat cock stuffing your hole perfectly.
Like you were made for him.
He threw his head back, he redoubled his efforts to make you feel as good as your pussy was making him feel.
"You look so beautiful when you're taking my cock like this." Shoji whispered to himself in awe, disbelieving that his dream was finally coming true after all this time as he watched his length disappear into you over and over again, completely entranced. "Feels so good, hhgh—!!"
Your hole fluttered around his thick girth, struggling to take his size as he pumped in and out of you at an alarming speed.
Whining, you could do nothing else but take it as he pounded you raw and rough, his hips slapping into your ass with a vigor that blanked your mind and left you gasping at the sensation.
Your wrists, still pinned down by his hands as his duplicated gripped your hips for stability as he got you closer to that peak, strained against his strength as the pressure built up in your stomach. "Mezo...'m gonna... gonna—"
"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Cream your cunny on my cock?" Shoji murmured, reducing his thrusts to sharp ruts, focusing all his attention on that little spot that made you see stars. "C'mon, give me one more. I need it."
That did it.
Your orgasm washed over you and your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your body trembling violently as he continued to push your limits, pumping in and out of you erratically before emptying himself into you with a deep groan.
Face flushed and eyes glassy, stilling rolling back from the throws of the intensity of your orgasm, you panted, twisting back to meet him in a kiss much softer and more loving than all the previous ones.
Now that his pent up frustration had been dealt with in the best possible way, he pulled out of you with a soft grunt, kissing you wordlessly when you whined at the loss of him.
Shoji hushed you softly as he cleaned the mess dripping out of you with a warm washcloth, urging you to go to the bathroom.
You couldn't stand up though, lacking the strength after that very thorough dicking down he gave you. Legs like jelly, you would've collapsed to the floor if he didn't catch you in time, pulling you up to his chest to carry you the rest of the way.
You hid your face in the crook of his neck as he took care of you, seeing as how all your energy was depleted. Slapping his chest halfheartedly in embarrassment as he chuckled when you jolted as he cleaned the sore but achingly sensitive bud between your legs.
Shoji nudged your ear with his nose, murmuring softly. "Are you alright?"
You hummed, eyelids heavy as you started to drift off.
He kissed the top of your head before bringing you back to bed so that you could take a nap. Somewhere between the walk from his bathroom to his bed, you stirred, arising from your light slumber only to be met with a concerned expression.
"Calm down, Mezo," You giggled, pecking him on the lips softly. "I'm good."
His shoulders slumped in relief. He was kind of worried he had broken you after a session like that. Scratching the back of his neck once you laid down, he hesitated before speaking.
"Don't worry me like that again. You're too reckless for your own good." He told you, anxiety resting heavy on his features.
You wiggled your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I don't know... That was a pretty good punishment if you ask me."
Shoji rolled his eyes but a hint of a smile played upon his lips. "I'm serious, Y/N."
Your smile disappeared and you nodded solemnly, sheepish now that you had been chastised.
"I know, I'm sorry." You apologized quietly, remorseful. You hadn't meant to worry him or any of them really. You honestly thought that you could handle it.
You had fought villains before, you thought you could tame a few punk kids who were bullying your little brother. You almost felt ashamed that they had managed to best you.
The initial idea was to capture them and report them to the authorities, since they were a part of a crew who liked to rob stores for fun, but the tables turned on you when they freely used their quirks on you.
Luckily, you had been able to dodge most of them, only sustaining minor damage from an attack you hadn't avoided in time.
Shoji knelt down by the bedside and your brow furrowed when he didn't climb under the covers with you.
"Mezo?" You squeaked when he engulfed you in a hug, all your insecurities melting away as his warmth flooded you.
He trembled as you said his name but otherwise didn't move. Instead, he mumbled something against your neck and you laughed.
"I can't quite hear you." You teased him, prying him away to get a good look at his eyes. They were swirling with an unknown emotion and you swallowed hard. "What's wrong?"
Shoji stared at you, his gaze boring into your soul as he took down all your walls you had built up around your heart to protect yourself with an ease that shocked you.
"Rely on me." He murmured, lacing his fingers with yours and gulping at how small your hands were compared to his. "I want you to rely on me like..."
You couldn't breathe. It sounded like...
"Like what?" You prompted breathlessly, not daring to hope that he was going to say what you so longed to hear from him.
His cheeks pinked and he turned away from you. "Nothing."
Your heart sank into your chest and you visibly deflated.
"Oh..." You said softly, expression saddening when he refused to look at you.
Gathering the sheets around you to cover your naked body, you suppressed a shiver as the cold air got through and you blindly reached around for your clothes on the floor.
Shoji's mouth pressed in a hard line and he shook his head. Any other time, he would be there to help you but not now. Not when his mind was racing with the possibilities of what could go wrong if he confessed his true feelings for you right here and now.
It was overwhelming him and he felt overtaken by fear that you would reject him, destroying the close friendship you had.
But...
"Y/N."
You straightened up, fumbling with the sheet as it accidentally slipped. But you blushed when Shoji draped his shawl over you, his scent filling your nose and you tripped over your words, thoroughly flustered for some kind of explanation as to why you were reacting like you were back in your first year of high school.
"I like you."
You balked, jaw dropping open in shock.
Shoji actually jumped back, startled as you swore in front of him.
"You're kidding."
His brow furrowed in confusion and he crossed his arms. "No, I'm perfectly serious."
You shook your head. There was no way that he, the coolest, most respectable and kindest guy you have ever met and had the privilege of calling your best friend, liked you back.
But judging by that affronted look on his face, you might've jumped to conclusions too soon.
Warily, you approached him, abandoning the search for your clothes.
You hastily apologized. "I'm sorry, I guess it's hard to believe how someone like you would be interested in me."
Now in front of him, you had a chance to see how much he towered over you. It was different from when you would hang out in each other's rooms where he would crouch down on the floor or sit on a chair so that the height difference wasn't so obvious.
But you felt safe as he curled his arms around you tentatively, even though it was such a contrast to how he was fucking the brains out of you earlier.
"Well, I do." Shoji murmured into your hair as he brought you in for a hug, firm and unyielding in his feelings for you even though you had yet to say anything.
You hadn't said it back but you hadn't shot him down either. He didn't know if it was foolish to hope for a chance that you would want to be with him too, or perhaps, oh no, had he made you uncomfortable?
Maybe you weren't saying anything because you didn't know how to reject—
"I like you too." You mumbled into his chest.
This time, Shoji was the one to do a double take. "Y/N?!"
"Oh hush." You said, hiding your face from his frantic gaze so that he couldn't see how red your face was. Confessing feelings was exhausting and now you wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with your new boyfriend.
Shoji's chest rumbled underneath your fingertips and just when you thought your face couldn't burn anymore out of embarrassment and shyness, he leaned back and tipped your chin up.
"I'm glad you return my feelings." He smiled, a pure smile that radiated the most wholesome level of happiness possible and your heart skipped a beat.
You found you mirrored his joy instinctively, it was contagious. And when he closed the distance to kiss you once more, it sealed a pact that would stay forever and could never be broken.
"I think I'll have to be more reckless from now on." You breathed when he finally pulled away and a small pout formed on his lips.
"Y/N..." Shoji warned, not finding your joke funny in the slightest.
You giggled, looping your arms around his neck as you stood on your tiptoes, booping his nose with yours. "I'm kidding, but I do think it was worth it."
He raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
You grinned, a cheeky smile that told him he hadn't seen the last of your mischief.
"Because it finally got you to confess."
Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#my hero academia shoji#shoji#shoji x reader#shoji x reader smut#shoji mezo#mezo shoji#mezou shouji#shouji mezou#shouji x reader#shouji x reader smut#bnha shoji#bnha#bnha oneshot#my hero academia oneshot#shouji oneshot#shoji smut#shouji smut#shoji x reader oneshot#shoji mezo x reader oneshot#boku no hero academia oneshot#bnha shoji x reader#bnha shoji x reader smut#my hero academia smut#bnha smut#mha smut#mha oneshot#bnhacity
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Out For Revenge: The Revengers Headlining Tour — Chapter One
Paring: Guitarist!Loki x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 3,350
Summary: Ever since that first gig at the pub, you've been following The Revengers—as well as getting closer with Loki, of course—and they've gotten big. Big enough to where they've landed a small recording deal and secured a headlining tour after their first album takes the rock scene by storm.
When Loki drops in at your job, as he does almost every day now, he invites you to the celebratory party for the big news. That same night, you and Loki further your growing relationship.
Warnings: helen and issac are best wingmen, 10/10. helen and issac roast u for being a shy babe so like. if u can’t handle roasts from friends,, maybe turn away? idk?
Notes: fic twoooooo! now, i am unsure when the next chapter will come out. i have most of the major bits written and am slowly adding to it, but i’ve been stumped and working like crazy and dealing with a lotta shit, in general. so. hopefully all your lovely comments will motivate me to actually work on it more and more!! also, we’ve just hit 2.1k???? holy shit??? thank you so much??????
Tag List (if you want to be tagged in stuff like this or any future works, join my taglist here!): @mushroomlupin @miniminwriting @mariahlaufeyson @lam-ila @a-lonely-gray-couch @sineads-art @rosaline-black @lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @radicallyred
F E E D B A C K! | A O 3 L I N K! | T A G L I S T L I N K | WANNA READ THE WHOLE SERIES? CLICK HERE!
Ever since that night at the pub, you’ve been making it to shows as often as you can, hanging out with Loki and the rest of his bandmates. Between going to the shows, working, and sleeping, you make time to glance at The Revengers instagram page after you’ve spent a decent time away from the Pub, work picking up in hours again.
And that’s how you learned that today is a big deal for The Revengers.
Over the course of a few months, after knowing them for what seems like years, they’ve finally booked a headlining tour. Sure, it’s starting small, not really going to many places around the area at first, but it’s still a headlining tour. You haven’t been able to stop buzzing while you’re working your morning shift at work.
They were lucky enough to have Tony Stark—the Tony Stark of Stark Industries, let it be known—prance right into Queen’s Pub and listen to them play before he was giving them a one-off recording deal for the album they’d finished and performed for their time slot that night. The album sold insanely well within the first two months of them being out in the world, and The Revengers were suddenly offered a small headlining tour around this general area.
You were told this on the Tuesday you came into Queen’s Pub for a drink—it had been a rough week and no one quite made your new favorite drink like Brian did, and he gushed all about it as you had a round or two. In such a small time frame of three months, The Revengers have basically made a name and home for themselves. And you couldn’t be more proud.
But, ironically enough, within those three—technically four, since going to see TR live, and your first not-date-date—you still haven’t had the time to let yourself come to terms that you’ve got a massive crush on their guitarist. Nor have you worked the courage up to give him your number, and you’ve been seeing this guy every Saturday, as well as nearly every day at your own job. Granted, you talk to him so much and see him so often you didn’t really see much of a point in giving the number to him. But, if Helen knew how you viewed this whole…thing, she would smack you upside the head and give Loki your number for you.
Loki’s been coming in more frequently by himself. He always did before, but now this was almost everyday just to sit and talk with you. At times he barely even ordered anything, he just kept you company with your conveniently timed breaks. Once you were starting to notice a pattern, you figured Lisa as well as the rest of your team are definitely working against you.
Or maybe with you. You wouldn’t know. You haven’t really dated anyone properly before—just a single person in an online, long distance relationship that never worked out—and here you are, mid-twenties, crushing on this smoking hot guitarist that you met through serving. You’ve known him for quite a few months, had quite the few not-date-date’s, and you still haven’t tried to make a move. You just had no idea how to.
“Hey!” you greet him cheerfully as he sits at his normal booth. “The usual?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, yes please,” Loki replies, smiling at you as his hands play with a few of the rings on his fingers, and you try not to let your mind twist and turn to see just what else they could be doing in certain places right now. “Did you hear the news?”
“What news?” you question. You feel like you’re faking being innocent as you’re writing down his order on your server’s pad, trying not to give yourself away knowing that his band is starting to get in the big leagues.
“The Revengers news. C’mon,” Loki teases smoothly, falling back against the backrest of the booth. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been keeping tabs!”
“I’ve been working to meet rent!” you reply, giggling breathlessly as you pause to look up at him from your pad. “Some days I can barely breathe properly, Loki.”
What you’re telling him isn’t particularly wrong, however, he always ends up finding you after their gigs and chastises you for coming on a work night as you both end up with a few drinks in your systems. You chalk all of that up to Brian, since the bastard keeps you with stories of his early years. If he didn’t keep you talking about his band and his tour days, Loki wouldn’t have seen you at the shows.
Come to think of it, maybe you should thank Brian.
You take this moment as he shakes his head at your reply to see his attire for the day. He’s wearing a tight black shirt, and there’s a jacket tossed next to him. How does he make a jacket piled next to him look so neat? Good lord—
He sighs dramatically, sitting up straight again. “The Revengers have officially booked a headlining tour with Stark Studios.”
You immediately snap out of your...haze and address the good news as if you didn’t see most of what he just told you this morning on their Instagram account.
“Holy shit,” you breathe. “That’s so sick! Congratulations!”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Loki bashfully replies. You duck back behind your pad to finish writing his order before quickly reading it back to him, trying to avoid having him see your growing reaction to his words. Maybe one day here soon you’d tell him Brian’s told you everything about their deal. But not today.
Once you’ve made sure his order is right, you take a second to converse a little more about the day and the new deal TR’s just landed before you’re off to go put in the small order slip. Helen gives you a gentle bump with a smile when she notices you, and you greet her after shouting to get Evan’s attention.
The day stays calm for a while, you get Loki’s food in almost a record time, you and Helen crack jokes while you both slack off a bit to talk with Loki until Lisa is playfully chastising you and shooing you all off to go and do your jobs before talking to Loki herself.
And that’s when rush decided to kick up, of course.
The lunch rush is an hour and a half early, which you don’t understand—you never understand why the rushes happen like this. You’re running around as if your head’s been cut off, taking orders what feels like every five seconds while also checking on your other guests when you’re walking by.
And unfortunately, you can’t pay attention to Loki.
You miss seeing him out. You’re wishing you could have just had one last round of conversation with him so he could end up trying to forcefully shove your usual cash tip in the tip pocket of your apron for the second time this week. It really shouldn’t make you as sad as it does, knowing that you missed him like this. You’re chanting inside your head that he’s just a friend at this point, nothing more. A friend with a slowly rising and successful band.
If you think too hard about it you may not be able to wrap your head around it.
Just as you swing back into the kitchen to collect another order, Helen is calling your name.
“What!” you shout. “I’m busy!”
“No duh! We’re all busy,” she quips dramatically, smoothly taking over what you’re doing. “Check your boy toy’s table. Now. Shoo.”
You give Helen a look as she gives you a final shove before you’re turning out of the kitchen, walking through some of the booths to see Loki’s table.
His dishes were stacked like they usually were, and his receipt was covering some cash. You knew that was your tip, which made your face heat up slightly. You always made a point to never count it out until you were home, considering it was usually a few tens and twenties. You sigh, reaching for the receipt and sliding it to you over the table top, only to catch the colorful ink from one of your pens you gave Loki to sign his bill on the back of the receipt paper.
You’re careful to flip it over, trying to ignore the cash tip.
I know it’s super short notice, but we’re having a celebration for The Revengers tonight. Text me if you want to come? Loki xx
Oh. Oh shit.
It’s a real number, too. Not like anything you’ve been given prior as a joke. It feels like it’s been a little too long since you’ve been staring at the receipt paper and ignoring the cash tip, and you’re quick to just fold it all together to pocket it in your work apron and clear off the table of the booth.
You have Loki Odinson’s phone number. You. It absolutely feels like you’re dreaming. You also find yourself laughing, just a little bit. After how many of TR’s shows you two talk at, how many not-date-dates at the pub, you finally have his number. Albeit, entirely under the circumstance of figuring out a party address.
But hey, getting a number is getting a number, right?
As you carry the dishes to the back of the house, you mentally start crafting your text to Loki. What the hell would you even say?
Hey! Thanks for the tip!
No. Nope. That’s weird.
We FINALLY remembered to swap numbers!
No. You didn’t do shit on your end. He was the one that did. Maybe just tell him it’s you, and you’d love to go? Maybe ask if there’s a dress code, or a BYOB situation going on—
“So,” Helen asks excitedly. “What did he write?”
“You noticed he wrote something?” You question over some of the clashing noises of your coworkers.
“Who else in this hell hole has a green pen? Of course I saw he wrote something!”
You sigh, smiling to yourself before you’re passing dishes to another coworker that has a bigger pile than yourself, trying to stay out of people’s way. “There’s a party for TR tonight.”
Helen gasps, nearly throwing her serving tray with another round of food over her shoulder.
“No way. And you’re invited.”
“Well, obviously—“
“That’s so exciting! Oh my fucking god—“
“Language, Vawn!” Issac shouts dramatically, coming in with his tray in hand as he hangs another ticket in the serving window for Evan and the rest of his team. “Get out there with the food, we can scream about this after we close up!”
“Issac!” You exclaim, whining the last part of his name slightly. “Shut up!”
“I will when you will.”
Issac’s out before you can huff and puff more. Helen sighs and pats you on the shoulder before following suit.
Once you’re alone in the back of house, Evan calling orders again after what feels like you’ve been shoved into a movie that’s just been put on pause, you’re back shifting into work mode.
You can feel your blush rising to your cheeks as you start looking at the food, piling it onto a new tray to carry out as you just think of what all of this means for you and Loki’s relationship. Tonight could possibly mean getting out of the weird grey area you’re in, and move forward to the dating range.
As scared as you are, you’ve never been more ready for something in your life. All this flirting and seeing him almost every Saturday has you losing your god damn mind. Your subconscious hasn’t helped either, most of your dreams involving you and Loki in some romantic scenario.
“Yeah, it’s about time,” you mutter aloud, quickly moving around everyone in the back to get out on the floor and drop off the platter full of food.
The rush lasts a little longer than it should. Hell, the rest of the day lasts longer than it should. All you can think about is Loki and his number on the receipt that is neatly tucked near your small pen supply in your apron.
Thankfully, perhaps even mercifully, the restaurant finally closes for the night after your last table. It was a group of teenagers and they were honestly hilarious, until it came to the form of payment which gave everyone a headache trying to figure it out.
“Is it just me or is he getting hotter?” Helen asks as the two of you start cleaning tables and putting chairs up. You squint slightly at the hardwood of the table you’re cleaning before looking up and over and your friend.
“Who?”
“Loki, you idiot,” she hisses back, foot gently kicking at you from the side she’s working on. You laugh, scooting deeper into the booth you’re cleaning so she can’t swipe at you again.
“Well, in my personal opinion, he’s always been hot.”
“Mhm, I know,” Helen replies smugly. “Did you figure out what to text him? Have you even texted him?”
You take a breath and do a quick sweep with your wet rag on the booth’s table top. “No. I don’t know. I keep making it awkward in my head, so like—“
“Oh my god.” Helen throws her head back and groans, finishing her table. “Give me your phone, we’re crafting one right now.”
“What?!” You exclaim, still sitting in the booth. “Helen, we still have to close—“
“Shut up and give her the phone!” Isaac shouts from the back. “Lisa said you can leave early, just do it! He’ll reply fast as hell if he’s into you!”
You whine loudly and fall back into the seat you’re kneeling on. Helen slides into the seat across from you, holding her hands out and wiggling her fingers. “C’mon babe, just give in.”
“You’re all terrible.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Worst coworkers I could have ever asked for. How dare you?” You’re speaking as you pull your phone from your back pocket and sliding it over to Helen who immediately punches your passcode in. “I should change that.”
“You’d give it to me again anyways,” Helen replies instantly. “Have you put the number in yet? Or do I need to do it too?”
“I can do that,” you huff, getting slightly defensive. “Just don’t know what to say. I can do the rest, Hel.”
“From the looks of it, you can’t. Scoot over,” Isaac says again, closer to you now. You jump slightly before sighing and moving to let him in. It’s silent among the three of you before your brain catches up with what Issac said.
“Wait, hold on. Lisa said I can leave earlier? You told Lisa about this—”
“Yeah,” he replies instantly, cutting you off as if it was obvious information to share. “We can hold it down without you too, by the way. Literally Helen and I will survive while you go get some—“
“Isaac! It’s not like she’s going to get railed—“
“The text!” you exclaim. “Figure out the text first, try to pry my other personal details out of me later.”
Issac and Helen laugh before all attention is directed to your phone. You still can’t believe Issac told your boss you got Loki’s number. You utter a few curse words under your breath before Helen is humming in thought.
“Okay,” Helen begins finally. “how’s about you just have a simple ‘hey! I’d love to come to the party!! Just drop the address and I’ll be there ASAP.’” Helen waves your phone around as she speaks. “Sound nice?”
“Mm,” Isaac replies. “I think you could spice it up.”
“How the fuck can you spice up accepting a party invite?” You question, deciding to finally toss your rag in front of you. “I think that’s just fine.”
“I think you should be flirty about it.”
Helen blinks over at Issac. “Literally, we have to make it believable, not like I’m texting him.”
Silence falls over the three of you before Isaac groans. “Fuck. You’re right.”
“Is this a roast?” You question between your friends. “I think this is a roast. First you tell Lisa—”
“Of course it is! You wouldn’t flirt right out the gate. You’d probably send the text that I just said aloud.” Helen is typing on your phone as she finishes speaking. “I’ll write it out, see what you think. Then tweak how you want and send it. Okay?”
“Okay,” you reply with a small pout. “Sometimes I can be flirty—“
“No, no I doubt it. In person?” Isaac questions as he turns to look at you in your shared seat. “Yeah, maybe. Over text? You’d back out after typing it.”
You blink, looking at Isaac as Helen hums, nails tapping against your screen.
“You guys are really coming for my throat, huh?”
“We speak only the truth,” Helen says softly before passing the phone to you. “See if you like. Tweak what you don’t, yeah? We’ll be cleaning.”
You take your phone back as Helen grabs your rag and tosses it at Isaac, the both of you trying not to laugh as the rag almost hits Isaac in the face. You laugh to yourself as they go back to doing your closing tasks before you look down at your phone screen to read the text Helen crafted.
Hey! Sorry for getting back to you so late, I’d love to come to the party tonight. Just text me the address and I’ll get there as soon as I can!!
You read through the text several times. Helen really has you pegged, and you aren’t mad about it at all. Your free hand fishes into your apron’s pocket to find the receipt that Loki wrote his number down on, placing it on the table—writing up so you can read the number off and put in your phone.
You take one last breath, Loki’s number in the contact bar, and your message ready to be sent.
You can do this.
After a few more calming breaths, you press the send button, making sure the text delivers all the way before you busy yourself on your phone to properly add Loki’s contact. You lock your phone and smile widely to yourself as you start to slide out of the booth.
Hopefully, Loki replies sometime soon and you can skip out closing up with Helen and Isaac. You’re not sure if you could focus on closing while you wait for a text back.
And you’re thankful Loki seems to get that message. By the time you’re in the back to actually help closing up, you check your phone one last time before you can see two texts on your home screen. You’re quick to unlock your phone and read them before running out.
Hey! It’s all good! Here’s the address, just get here whenever you can, sweetheart. Brunn plans on dragging it out tonight
Be sure to wear something comfortable, btw. I don’t think there’ll be enough room to sit around 😅
You’re not holding back the giddy smile that’s rushing onto your face as you reread the texts Loki’s sent before you’re speeding to the locker room to grab your bag.
“Did he text?!” Helen shouts from the kitchen window, Evan grunting from the noise. “He must’ve!”
“He did!” You exclaim, bag slung over your shoulder as you type back on your phone. “I’m gonna dash. Tell Lisa I said thank you!”
“Yes!” Helen cheers loudly, throwing her hands up in the air in the kitchen.
“Could ya tone it down, Helen?” Evan huffs. You don’t catch the rest of the interaction before you’re waving goodbye to Issac. On your way out you actually find Lisa yourself, shouting over to her with a thank you and telling her to have a good night.
Lisa simply shouts a you’re welcome, hun! back, and gives you two thumbs up with a wide smile before you’re headed out into the night to your car to rush home and put on better clothes.
#loki x reader#guitarist!loki x reader#ofr: trht — g!l au#guitarist!loki au#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson x you#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson fluff#loki odinson imagine#loki laufeyson fluff#marvel writer#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#rachael writes
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Soft nessian 🥺
This isn't soft soft nessian, but rather it was suppose to be soft nessian and then it ended up being this, which I don't mind.
This is actually based off of my own headcanon: Where Nesta learns the Illyrian language and doesn’t tell Cassian, so he has been saying heartfelt things to her without realizing that she understands him. I was going to do the last part of that where Nesta finally speaks back to him in Illyrian since that is an extremely soft scene in my head, but... I ended up doing like a first part. It feels like an intro to a longer fic but please don't ask for that.
~
Nesta listens to the sweet trill of his voice as the rolling r’s rumble through his chest. He won’t tell her what the words mean.
“Will you give me a hint?” She huffs.
Cassian hums a soft sound, shifting in his seat. Nesta raises her chin as if she can command him to tell her.
“It’s something that someone says,” he remarks plainly.
Nesta rolls her eyes, “Animal, mineral, or vegetable?”
Her mate grumbles under his breath.
He mumbles three words. They tumble out of his lips like rolling hills, and Nesta knows they mean something along the lines of Mother save me.
Mother save him, if he keeps this up.
Cassian likes playing this game, she finds. He calls for her in Illyrian, huffs in Illyrian, complains in Illyrian with his big buffoon voice. He crosses his big buffoon arms and he smirks, joking in Illyrian. And Nesta scoffs, crosses her arms, makes a great big show about being annoyed.
He thinks he’s good at this game, she knows, because he’s forgotten who he’s playing against. He likes watching her furrow her brows, pout her lips, her question after question. What do the words mean? He even likes when she gets frustrated. There’s a sadistic sort of gleam in his eyes, as if he’s categorizing every annoyed look just as she’s translating his every word.
Nesta is already winning this game of theirs.
Nesta already won.
He holds his tongue about what the words mean and Nesta takes lessons with Emerie. She’s been taking them since last March.
Cassian talks, rambles on and on, teasing her about not knowing his words. Maybe she learns, to bring him down a peg. Her knowledge is a little needle and his head is a great big balloon and Nesta learns because she wants to see his face as it pops. At least that’s what she’ll tell anyone if they ask.
It’s not because the language sounds like music and when he speaks she can hear a symphony in his voice and she secretly wants to tell him never to stop talking. It’s not because she’s secretly worried that he’s telling her some horrible truth. I don’t want to be with you. I hate you. I never wanted you. Nesta thinks of all manners of words in those first few months. It’s not because it’s the language of his people, his culture, and when they have children who boast like their father and sneer like their mother, she wants to know what stories to tell them, to sing them lullabies of flight.
But, Nesta learns more than the language in her pursuit of retribution.
When her eyes are heavy and she leans on his shoulder, Cassian kisses her on the head and calls her beautiful. When he’s cooking breakfast and she settles between his wings, softly trailing her finger down a vein while the bacon splatters, he fondly calls her witch. When he interrupts her reading, to soften her fury, he calls her his sweet song. My love, be patient today comes roaring with a sigh and some sarcastic tone when he comes baring some bad news.
When Cassian complains, when he gets angry, with those heavy sighs, and those dramatic gestures, the hand held to the brow, he sings her soft praises.
I love you. I’m grateful for you. I’ve never wanted anyone more in my life.
Nesta tries not to smile every time.
Nesta learns that Cassian is a big, romantic buffoon and he loves her so much.
Her favorite phrase is five syllables.
It means something like... you are my sky. Emerie explains each word in sequence, that there’s a phrase for love but that’s not what’s commonly used for people in love. Rather there are multiples phrases. You are my wings. You are my sky. I soar in your embrace.
He once explains that the wings of Illyrian are their pride, their joy. Nesta is the sky in which he flies in, the sun he reaches for, the moon he dances across, and he tells her this. Cassian tells her this and he smiles because he thinks he knows something she doesn’t.
Cassian shifts further on the couch. He grabs under her bent knees and pulls her towards him. He mumbles five syllables as he kisses her shoulder.
“Why won’t you tell me what it means?” Nesta pleads, crossing her arms as if she’s perturbed.
“I said you’re annoying,” Cassian speaks, kissing at her nose.
Nesta likes playing this game, so she punches him in the shoulder, demanding to know.
~
Tagged: @my-fan-side, @sophilightwood, @nestaarcher0n, @duskandstarlight, @soitsgorgeous, @ekaterinakostrova @swankii-art-teacher, @lordof-bloodshed, @arinbelle, @thewhelk, @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell, @lovelynesta, @sirendeepity, @champanheandluxxury, @ladynestaarcheron, @moodymelanist, @teagoddess99, @spoilersteph, @drielecarla, @angelicvoice19, @bo0kmaster69, @generalnesta
~
This is a little sappy (shrug, shrug, shrug).
#nessian#nesta archeron#cassian#nessian mini fic#vidalinav writes mini fics#it's short enough to not add a read more I think but let me know
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A Very Nessian Christmas
(I'm just tagging all y'all who are reading the au acosf. Please let me know if you don't want tagging in these one shots. @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @confusedfandomslut @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @a-court-of-valkyries @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens )
A modern Nessian one shot set at Christmas time
‘Are you serious?’
‘No, I’m Cassian.’
Nesta’s nostrils flared. Her grip tightened around the bauble in her hand as she debated where best to aim at the giant bat in the living room. He was so big that she’d hit him no matter what, but was it better to aim for his face or somewhere more sensitive?
‘Careful you don’t drop that one,’ he winked, placing a shot glass down on the side.
For every decoration of his that Nesta had picked off the tree and rearranged, he had taken a shot of alcohol. His cheeks had taken on a rosy hue as a result.
‘Carry on ruining my tree and I'll shove these baubles where the sun doesn’t shine,’ she grumbled.
It was so easy to annoy Nesta. Cassian was relishing in it. They had started out with a great idea of decorating the tree together, imagining that it could be something romantic, then cuddle on the couch with a hot chocolate watching festive films. The way it was going, a war was more likely.
He had started off the decorating by rearranging the carefully placed nativity scene that Nesta had put on the mantelpiece. She had taken one look at the golden tinsel wrapped around him like a scarf and threatened to strangle him with it.
Now, Nesta gritted her teeth as Cassian looped another golden bell onto a branch.
‘There is already a decoration on that branch. It’s clustered. Put it somewhere else.’
‘But they’re buddies,’ he grinned, waiting to see if Nesta would rise to the bait and adjust the decoration to her liking.
She took a steadying breath then smoothed her gold-brown hair flat. Her eyes flickered back to the branch. It was too much to hold inside. She was about to yell and obliterate the festive spirit then the front door opened - saving Cassian from being barbecued.
‘Feeling festive?’ Azriel asked from the doorway as he hung up his coat. He took in the sight of Cassian draped in tinsel, swigging straight from the bottle. ‘Well, one of you is.’
‘Nesta’s threatening to kill me again,’ he said dreamily, gazing at that beautiful, terrifying woman stood on the other side of the living room.
‘It’s well deserved, I assure you.’
‘The lights outside are a bit wonky.’
Nesta massaged her temples. ‘Next year, I am decorating alone. I will sit you in front of the television with a film, like a child, and do it perfectly myself.’
‘She’s very considerate,’ Cassian said to Azriel.
‘Eat. Drink. Be merry. Just leave my tree alone.’
Nesta shooed both the males onto the couch while she continued decorating. It was fun to annoy her, to try and thwart her quest of creating a perfectly decorated tree. Their tree could have one bauble on and Cassian still would have found it perfect. Just having Nesta with him, humming Christmas songs under her breath as she set out every novelty item was perfect.
He’d not realised what a fanatic she was until they lived together. Organised as ever, she had compiled a list of films they had to watch on certain dates, her shopping - and wrapping - was complete by the 1st December, and she’d ordered him into the loft for boxes and boxes of junk. Their house had turned into a grotto. Cassian was surprised they didn’t have elves living in the house, using the gingerbread scented soap from the reindeer-shaped bottle. Even the welcome mat had changed to one that said Santa stop here.
‘What have you done with it?’
Nesta’s hands were on her hips, her feet planted as if readying herself for a fight. But her eyes darted round the room then roved all over his body searching his pockets for a shape with five points.
‘With what?’
Azriel watched them both, trying hard to disguise the smile that so often came from watching them bicker with each other.
‘You know what. Give it back.’
‘Oh, do you mean the star?’
‘Put it on the tree.’
Cassian stood. He towered over most people, but Nesta was used to it. She craned her neck to stare at him with pursed lips.
He made a show of stepping forwards, pretending to move to the tree then Cassian swooped down on Nesta and hauled her into the air. He lifted her above his head, thankful for the high ceilings in their house.
‘Put me down, brute.’
‘You said to put the star on the tree - that’s what I’m doing!’
Nesta halted trying to escape and hung limply in his arms until he lowered her back down the floor.
‘You’re an idiot,’ she laughed.
‘I’m your idiot.’
Cassian leaned down to kiss her gently on the lips. For her, he’d endure the train running round a track in the kitchen, the dancing snowmen that were triggered by movement - even the novelty toilet roll.
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Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo
Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.
This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.
I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!
I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.
Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.
Now, let’s get into the post.
Let's start with Illumi first.
Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.
He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.
Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.
He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.
One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.
His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.
He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.
“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.
“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”
Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.
Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.
“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”
He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”
Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?
Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.
Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.
He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.
Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.
Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.
Hisoka
According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.
Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.
Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!
Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.
Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.
While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.
His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.
Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.
“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”
“No. Of course not,” you reply.
“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”
As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?
Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.
Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!
“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”
“Why not? I’ll protect you.”
“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”
It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.
“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”
Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!
He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.
Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.
Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.
He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.
Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.
When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.
Chrollo
We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?
Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.
Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.
The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.
Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.
Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.
Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.
Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.
Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!
“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.
He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.
His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.
Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.
“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”
“It will be fun!”
The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.
After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?
Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.
“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”
#hisoka#hisoka morrow#hunterxhunter#hunter x 2011#hunter x hunter#illumi zoldyck#hxh 1999#hxh 2011#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo#hxh illumi#illumi#hisoka morrow x reader#hunter x hunter x reader#hunter x hunter x you#hunter x hunter x y/n#illumi x reader#illumi x y/n#illumi x you#chrollo x y/n#chrollo x oc#chrollo x reader#chrollo x you#hxh headcanons#hisoka x reader#hisoka x y/n#hisoka x you#y/n imagines#hxh chrollo#hxh x reader
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Headlines
A fun cubs come out fic!
Characters and their world by @lumosinlove
@im-oknutzy-trash - here you go!
(Just one last note - there is one scene with a little spicy quip but it doesn’t get in any way explicit :))
“I’m home!” Finn called as he came through the door to their apartment, duffle bag falling off his shoulder and crashing into the door.
“Wow.” Logan commented, coming over to help him. “Home for less than a minute and you’re already trying to wreck the place.”
“Oh hush.” Finn said, dropping his bags and pulling Logan in by the waist. “Hello to you too.”
Logan grinned and went soft, leaning into Finn’s kiss. “How was Alex?”
They moved away from the door to the couch, Logan setting Finn’s bag aside to be dealt with later.
“Good, Kase and Nat are going out to see him in a few days so he was all excited.”
Logan laughed, kicking off his shoes to curl his feet under him. “Now that I get.”
Finn smiled and glanced around. “Where’s Leo?”
“He just had to pop out to the shop. We’re out of milk. He should be back soon though.”
Finn nodded, looking down at his hands, fiddling with his fingernails. “Hey Lo?”
“Yeah?”
“I was thinking about… well what if… So like, you know Cap and Loops, right?”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Our teammates? Yeah I think I’m vaguely familiar with them.”
Finn huffed, rolling his eyes. “Wow sassy. You know that’s not what I meant.”
Logan tilted his head to the side in acquiescence, letting Finn continue.
“I want to be like them.” Finn said quickly. “Can we be like them?”
He watched Logan frown for a moment, trying to figure out the difference between Remus and Cap and them. “Wait,” He murmured, eyes meeting Finn’s. “Do you mean?”
Finn nodded. “Yeah. I think maybe we’re ready?”
Logan opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Leo coming in.
“Hey Lo!” He said, without even looking around yet. “I got milk and that bread you like. Did Finn message you yet, he definitely should have landed by now.”
Leo reached the counter, putting the milk in the fridge before turning around and finally noticing the two boys in the room.
“I think his flight landed.” Logan said dryly, watching Leo take in Finn’s presence.
“Hi baby.” Finn said, with a smile, truly grinning when Leo left the shopping bag half-empty and came over to kiss him hello instead.
“Hi.” Leo said, slipping into the gap between his two boys. “I missed you.”
Finn heard himself make a pleased noise as he leaned in to kiss Leo again. “Missed you too.”
“So,” Leo said as he pulled away, pulling Logan’s feet onto his lap. “What’re we talking about?”
Finn met Logan’s green eyes, pausing for a moment. “Um, I uh…”
Logan kicked his foot forward to nudge it against Finn’s thigh. “I got it Harzy.” He then turned to Leo. “We were thinking, maybe it’s time for us to come out? It’d be nice I think, not having to hide.”
Finn watched Leo carefully as the younger boy blinked in surprise before a small smile took over his face.
“Yeah,” He breathed, looking between Logan and Finn. “Yeah that would be nice.” He bit his lip, looking smug and mischievous and Finn thought he might be falling in love all over again. “But I think we should have some fun first.”
****
Logan stumbled off the bus wearily - that four hour bus ride had just seemed to go on forever. Reporters stood outside the door to the hotel, despite the cold and the late hour but Logan leaned into Leo’s side anyways, Leo’s arm around his shoulder, Logan’s hand beneath his jacket. Photographers went wild, cameras shuttering quickly and Logan hid his smile in Leo’s jacket. This was going to be a whole lot of fun.
****
Leo looked up as Marlene entered the locker room, glancing around to see who might be ready and available for an interview. Leo caught her eye and waved her over.
“Hey Leo, how about a quick video for social media? I won’t keep you longer than five minutes.”
Leo smiled, he didn’t mind, this was all a part of their plan, the team and the rest of the staff had been made somewhat aware. Plus, he liked Marlene so he never had a problem with the interviews. “Sure.”
“Okay great!” She gave him a thumbs up as she started recording. “So, just last night, pictures of you and Logan Tremblay were released as you got off the bus - have you anything to say about them?”
Leo nodded, grinning. “Don’t forget James photobombing in the background. I think he was going for a ‘bunny ears’ effect but it ended up looking like he was doing it to Kasey instead. I think I need to get a copy framed.”
Marlene laughed, moving on. “So you and Logan are close then?”
Leo looked around the room comically. “What? You mean right now? Cause He’s in the PT room so a lot of the guys are closer.”
Marlene bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. “How do you feel about this game then?”
Leo sat back, finally going to answer a question honestly. “I’m feeling good. We’ve had a great start this season and I’m pretty confident.”
Marlene gave him another thumbs up and headed off to go chat to some of the other guys. A few stalls over, Finn met Leo’s eyes and blew him a kiss.
*******
“The media seems to have calmed down a bit.” Logan commented as they all sat at home watching a movie. “Think it’s time for our next one?”
“Ooh, yes!” Finn enthused. “I call being in this one.”
Logan laughed and pulled out of the way so he could take a picture of Finn kissing Leo’s cheek, Leo’s face all scrunched up in a smile.
“There you go, post it.”
Finn grinned, going to Instagram and putting up the picture with the caption ‘Days like this’ before tagging Leo for good measure.
“That should entertain them for a couple of days.” He said, satisfied as he tossed his phone to another chair and leaned back into Logan’s warmth, kissing the spot just below his ear.
“You and me next baby,”
****
Leo Knut and Finn O’Hara?
More than one couple in the Lion’s Den?
Knut cheating on Tremblay?
Logan laughed as he scrolled through the headlines and posts from fan accounts, taking screenshots of some of the art of them that had already begun to bubble up. Thomas was on the other side of him, watching a video of a fan analysing the teams interactions, trying to figure out who was actually in a relationship, laughing every few minutes.
“Knutty,” Logan called, summoning Leo. “Look at this one.”
Leo took his phone and read the caption out loud. “Knut’s betrayal making Tremblay tremble?” He looked up and met Logan’s eyes, his face blank. “I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.”
“I do!” Finn interrupted, coming up behind Logan and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Okay Lo, you hold up the article, now someone take our picture please!”
Logan ginned and relaxed into Finn as James snapped them together before posting it to his own account. ‘Doesn’t seem to be trembling to me.”
****
“I’m gonna go get some coffee, do you guys wanna come?” Leo said, the three of them still lying in bed. Finn shook his head, still mostly asleep, but Logan perked up.
“From the café down the street?”
Leo nodded, laughing when Logan was up like a shot, pulling on his clothes.
“We’ll bring you back some, okay sweetheart?” Leo said as he leaned over the bed once more to kiss Finn goodbye. Finn just nodded and burrowed deeper into the duvet.
“Love you.” He mumbled and the two boys left him to his dreams, slipping out of the room quietly.
They walked down the street, hand in hand, going mostly unnoticed by the public. It was still early and a Sunday, so there weren’t too many people up and about, but even those that were paid them very little attention. It was easy to forget, in moments like this, that they had entire fan pages dedicated to them and many days they weren’t even recognised on the street.
They got their coffee and drank it there, holding hands over the table outside the front door, watching the people passing by and chatting idly. Leo thought he spotted someone taking a not-so-discreet picture of them, but they didn’t care. Logan went inside to grab Finn’s cup to go and Leo lounged in the sunshine for a moment, breathing in the cool, sharp air.
He opened his eyes to find Logan standing over him, looking down amusedly. “D’accord, mon choupinet?"
Leo smiled and stood up, stretching lazily. “Oui.”
They came back home to Finn still in bed, and joined him under the covers while he sipped his coffee.
“Oh, look we’re back in the headlines.” Leo commented as he angled his phone for them both to see. A photo of Leo and Logan from just a half hour ago stared back at them, Logan laughing at something Leo had said.
“That’s such a cute picture,” Finn noted, putting on his glasses to take a closer look. “You should save that.”
Knut and Tremblay reunited? No news yet on how O’Hara is taking this latest blow.
“O’Hara would be doing fantastic if he had another kind of blow.” Finn grumbled, then blushed when he realised he had spoken out loud. “I mean-”
“Oh, we know what you meant.” Logan said, taking the nearly empty coffee cup from Finn and setting it on the nightstand as Leo eased Finn back, slipping under the covers as Logan captured his lips. “And that can be arranged.”
****
“So when do you guys think you’ll let them know what’s actually happening?” Remus asked Leo as he helped the blond boy with his stretching.
Leo bit his lip as he thought. “I don't know? Soon maybe though, because this is fun and all but I’m tired of being analysed all the time now. At least if we tell them the truth, they’ll be chasing after us for a couple of weeks but then it’ll all settle down and be nice and quiet again, you know?”
Remus nodded, smirking when Leo took a sharp intake of breath as he pushed his legs a little further apart. “Yeah for sure. It’ll be pure chaos for a bit, but then they’ll quickly move onto the next big thing, I promise.”
Leo nodded, a little lost in thought. “Yeah, I’m ready to have a bit of privacy again. I think I’ll say it to the boys tonight.”
Remus nodded and pushed Leo a little further, laughing when Leo cursed under his breath.
“Fuck, if I’m alive after all this that is.”
****
“Alright, we’re doing this so?” Logan confirmed, making sure everyone was in agreement.
“Yup.” Leo said, popping the ‘p’.
“It’s time.” Finn confirmed as they all pulled up the same picture they had chosen to post - a photo of the three of them taken at a party at Dumo’s. Logan sitting in Leo’s lap, head tilted up as he kissed Finn who was handing them their drinks.
“Captions ready?” Finn asked and the other two nodded. “Okay. Three,”
“Two,” Leo said.
“One.” Logan breathed and they all clicked ‘post’ at the same time.
The next day, all the headlines were their Instagram captions-
Leo and Logan.
Finn and Leo.
Logan and Finn.
(Three’s not a crowd).
#o'knutzy#coast to coast lumosinlove#lumosinlove#finn o'hara#Leo knut#logan Tremblay#o'knutzy fluff#cubs come out#o'knutzy coming out#Remus Lupin#Sirius Black#thomas walker#sweater weather lumosinlove#James Potter
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[Image description:
The camera pans slowly across a desk in a home office scattered with books. A person is sitting at the desk (head out of frame) with their hands resting on the surface, writing on a notepad. There are shelves filled with books and a leather easy chair in the background. The text across the center of the gif reads “Roswell, New Mexico March for Meta March 14-18, 2022″.
End description.]
Calling all couch critics!
We are asking you to put on your analyst hat and share your meta thoughts on everyone’s favorite alien drama. The prompts are made with analysis in mind but all contributions are welcome. Tag your posts with #roswellmarchformeta2022 or #rnmmarchformeta2022 in the first five tags and we’ll reblog them here. Or just tag us in the post!
No meta is too small or too long, but we will not be reblogging posts with added commentary so if you want to riff you should create your own. The more the merrier! We will be tagging for triggers, and any post that contains explicit character/ship/creator hate (especially those with slurs or blatant racism/queerphobia) will not be reblogged.
March 14, Day 1 | The minor fall
Minor characters: Who is your favorite minor character? Which one do you think could serve the story better if they were a major player? Why? Is there one from previous seasons you’d like to see again? What’s your favorite scene or line featuring a minor character? Is there a moment with a minor character that made you realize or rethink something about the main story? What was it?
March 15, Day 2 | The main event
Main characters: Who is your favorite main character? Best antagonist? Protagonist? Anti-hero or morally grey character? Why? Which character has had the most development? The best development? In what ways? Is there a scene or a line you think best represents a character or their development? What does a character’s choice of profession tell us about them?
March 16, Day 3 | Dy-no-mite
Dynamics: What is your favorite overall character dynamic? Romantic? Platonic? Familial? Adversarial? Comedic? Why? What’s a scene or line you feel best represents that dynamic? What’s a dynamic that’s changed? A dynamic you would like to see more of? Two (or more) characters that we haven’t seen together but should? Why?
March 17, Day 4 | Set dressing
Costumes/Props/Sets: What does a character’s costume say about them? What does their living space? Their car? Is there an accessory they wear that means something? What is it? What is the space they spend the most time in, what does it look like, and what does that tell us?
March 18, Day 5 | I've connected two dots
Free day/pet crack theory: Explain a plot hole; connect (existing?) dots; invent a conspiracy; justify a headcanon; predict the future; break the fourth wall and talk about shots, angles, lighting, music, locations, or references to other media; explore the road not traveled with scrapped scenes/lines from behind-the-scenes sources; let loose!
Find a list of trigger tags HERE, find a more extensive explanation on non-trigger tags HERE, find reasons your post may not be on the blog HERE, and find suggestions for contributions that do not involve actually writing meta (fics, fanvids, art, playlists, and gifsets) HERE.
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stolen dances | chap. 8
summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.
pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader
rating: m
warning: swearing
additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y
words: 2200
links: prev. | next [masterlist]
note: lower case letters intended
chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.
“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.
“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.
“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.
“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.
it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.
“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”
the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.
“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.
“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.
after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.
“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.
“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.
after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.
“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.
“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.
“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.
with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.
“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.
“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.
two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.
his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.
“_____”
no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.
“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.
a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.
“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.
“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.
two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.
you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.
“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.
“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.
“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.
“i know”
another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.
“have you eaten?”
“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.
“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.
“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.
“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.
“for five months”, he specifies.
“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.
“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”
yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.
“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.
“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.
but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.
“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.
“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.
“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.
“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”
jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.
“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.
“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.
“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.
just… great.
“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?
“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.
“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.
“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.
“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.
“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.
“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.
“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.
your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.
“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…
“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.
“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.
“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”
“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”
he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.
“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”
you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.
“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.
“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”
he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.
“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”
you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”
your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.
“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.
“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.
jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.
“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.
you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.
“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”
“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.
“i still like you way too much for my own good.”
he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.
you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.
bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.
before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.
subject: duchess potatoes are back.
_____
happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!
i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.
i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…
all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana
taglist: @livewittykid @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad @kimluvwoo @jinsearthh
#btswriterscollective#bangtanuniversity#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fanfic#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#idol!jungkook#ceo!jungkook#bts x reader#bts angst#bts scenarios
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Best. Present. Ever. (Roommate!Spencer X Reader)
a/n: I know I’m cutting it a little close, but I had this idea and really wanted to get it out. I really hope you guys like it and aren’t to mad at me for putting off “Where is my mind?” for this. Unsub!Spencer doesn’t really scream Christmas.
Summary: y/n has feelings for their coworker and roommate. So Jack decides to help them out a little.
Word count: 1310
“Thank you y/n, this means a lot. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to make it up to you?” Hotch yells from Jacks’ room while helping him get dressed. You pull your vision from your bouncing leg back to the rest of the room.
“Of course not, I’m happy to help!” You call back as thumps descend the stairs. In seconds Jack is jumping the second to last step and looking back at Hotch.
“Dad, I’m gonna pee before I leave with y/n!” You’re smiling as he races down the hall towards the bathroom and Hotch sits beside you to put his shoes on.
“Really, thank you so much. We’re rarely home from a case, and when we are I’m here with Jack. Normally Haley would get all of Jacks’ presents so it just slipped my mind this year.” He lowers his voice, to assure his son can’t hear or out of guilt, you can’t tell. You rest your hand on his shoulder and sigh.
“I know, but hey, we’re all here to help and I promise. You just get through this, and it’ll all get easier from there.” He nods and wipes the tears from his eyes.
“I’m ready!” Jack yells, bounding toward you and pushing you back on the couch. “I missed you.” He states as his arms squeeze your shoulders tightly. Hotch smiles at the display of affection from his son.
“I missed you too little man!” You laugh and start to tickle him. “You wanna come with me to pick up my gift for uncle Spencer?” You ask as his laughter dies down. He nods enthusiastically and you grin.
“Let’s get going!” He grabs your hand and pulls you off the couch.
--
"Did you get it?" Your voice rings cautiously from the door. You bite your lip and tighten your grip on Jacks' hand in anticipation.
"Yes! Oh god y/n it's perfect. He's going to love it!" Oz calls across the shop and you drop Jacks' hand, taking off in a sprint.
"Let me see!" You yell as Jack makes his way to the kids spot in the back of the store to pet the cat.
"Original press, perfect condition, y/n it's an original copy." Her voice fills with amazement as you take the book from her hand. The Works of Edgar Allan Poe inscribed in gold on the blue felt spine.
"I swear, if you don't give him that note that you spent hours writing, I'll kill you." She laughs and your heart drops.
"What if I give it to him and he says he doesn't love me too?" You ask, running your fingers along the corners of the book.
"Trust me, he's going to. He loves you kiddo." She smiles warmly at you and you nod.
"I hope you're right." You huff, the patter of feet cuts off your conversation.
"y/n, I'm thirsty." Jack smiles up at you and Oz pulls an apple juice from the fridge.
"So did what I gave you cover it, or do you need more?" You wince at the thought of how expensive the book in your hands should be.
"I took care of the rest hon, you just tell that boy you love him and give me two dollars for the kids juice." She smiles while pointing at Jack.
You nod, anxiety still littering your body.
"Hey, he's going to tell you he loves you too." She pats your shoulder and you smile, giving her the money for Jacks' drink.
--
"Okay! It's time for presents!" Garcia shouts and you all gather in Rossis' living room.
Jack sits in your lap as Morgan sorts through the gifts. Lots of laughs and 'thank you's carry across the room as the team opens their gifts.
"Oh my god-" You hear Spencer inhale sharply and your gaze snaps up. He's looking at the book, grinning like an idiot with tears in his eyes. "You found one." He looks up and you, and your heart clenches at the joy in his eyes.
"Yeah, took me like five months." You laugh, everyone in the room watching the scene unfold.
"y/n… this probably cost so much. Why would you do this? I would have taken socks." He laughs and you giggle. Another voice cuts you off before you can speak.
"Cause that's the stuff you do when you're in love. Right, dad?" Jack looks up from his new art set, courtesy of JJ, to his father. You feel your heart stop, and Spencers' jaw drops slightly. The room stills.
"How about we go outside?" Hotch laughs, grabbing his son and making a b-line for the back door, the others tailing close behind.
"y/n?"
"Yeah?" You ask softly, keeping your gaze on the floor.
"Have you opened your present from me yet?" He asks you, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. You shake your head. "I think you should."
Your hands are shaking as you take the box from your pile.
"Didn't I wrap this?" You ask, glancing up at him. He nods, still watching you intently.
"Wrapped your own present and didn't even know." He nods and you force a laugh.
When you open the box, you're met with a pair of custom FBI converse that you had asked for a few months prior. It was something you had off-handedly mentioned to Spencer while laying on the couch one night.
“Spence, they’re amazing!” You smile up at him, and he nods back at the box, telling you to continue. The shoes are placed on a small tin box, one you hadn’t seen in almost two years.
You make quick work, pushing the shoes away and opening them. Sure enough, the inside is filled with an assortment of things from your childhood. Notes, report cards, pictures, small things you had collected over the 4 years of highschool.
“I-” The words catch in your throat as you look through all of the things you considered to be long gone. “I lost these when we moved into the new apartment.” You look up at him, and he had tears running down his face to match yours.
“You were so upset when we lost it in the move. All of the things you kept close were gone. So a few months ago, I tracked it. I know every single person who touched it between the old apartment and now.” A sob escapes you and he bites his lip. “I added a note.”
He moves to the spot beside you and takes the lid softly from your hand. He pulls a small note from it’s tape, and hands it to you. You look into his eyes, and you see how anxious he really is.
“I’m not going to read this.” You whisper softly, and set it in the box. He looks shocked, and for a second it feels like you stepped on a puppy.
“Why not?” He asks, pain is his voice, more tears wheeling in his eyes.
“Because I wrote you a note too, and now it’s under my mattress, I’m not going to tell you that I’ve been in love with you for five years by giving you a note. And you’re not either. You state, and before you can continue, his lips are on yours. It feels right. The two of you, like this, holding each other.
“I love you.” He breathes against your lips.
“I love you to-” Another voice cuts off yours.
“Guys! Hurry up it’s fucking freezing out here!” Emily screams, and a shout of ‘language’ comes from Garcia and JJ. You roll your eyes as footsteps carry into the house.
“Aaron, I’d like to have a chat with your son.” You smile, crossing your arms over your chest. The room fills with laughter and Spence holds your hand. Best. Present. Ever.
Tags: So i don’t really have a taglist for one-shots because this is my first one, so I’m just going to use the series tags. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged for these!
@fish-on-trees @pumpkin-goob @reidsmissmatchedsocks @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @eva-cadeau
#Spencer reid x reader#Spencer Reid#criminal minds#mgg#mgg concepts#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid gif#gender nuetral reader#matthew gray gubler#bau x reader#Aaron Hotchner#Derek Morgan#emily prentiss#Penelope Garcia#David Rossi#holiday tag#one-shot
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CITY OF LOVE
{part 1 }
a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE!! This is the second and final part of my friends to lovers fic featuring italy!Harry!! If you haven’t read the first part (When In Rome) make sure to click on the link above before coming back to this one :)) As usual, feedback is always welcome, hope everyone enjoys this one!
tag list: @rainsoncornelias @mellamolayla @sushiabby
Word count: 13.1k (got a bit carried away, oops?)
Pairing: best friend!Harry + reader
Rating: M
You visit the notorious City Of Love and Harry’s infatuated.
“We’re almost there,” Harry says, interrupting your daydreams as you stare out the window of the moving train.
You give him a small smile, checking the time on your wrist clock before going back to your previous position.
He loves catching you in moments like this. When you’re so focused on your own thoughts you become unaware of the world around you. It’s one of those moments where you look the prettiest, he thinks — not that you ever look anything below gorgeous to him. But there’s something about it, when you’re just so lost inside your head, not even trying to look beautiful, something about these moments makes his heart skip a beat. He wishes he could open up your head and read your mind like it was his favorite book. Learn your thoughts and your feelings. He wishes it so badly.
Instead, he takes the opportunity to admire your figure without the risk of getting caught staring — knowing you’d tease him to no end if you did. He takes notice of all the details in you he’s memorized over and over through the years you’ve known each other, but somehow never got tired of it. He doesn’t want to seem like a creep. And it’s not as if he does it on purpose either. He tries to concentrate on the book open in front of him, but only manages to skip through a few words before finding himself glancing up at you again.
It’s unfair to him how beautiful you look this early in the morning. The sunlight shining through the window next to you hitting your face so perfectly it makes his heart jump on his chest. Your hair’s cascading down your shoulders in a way that not even the most skilled painter could replicate in one of his masterpieces. The dress you chose for the day hugs your body loosely enough so you have space to breathe underneath but still tight enough that makes him twitch on his trousers every time his eyes wander to your chest.
The scene seems as it should belong on the walls of an art museum. You’re glowing.
He makes a subtle move to reach for his bag next to him, keeping his eyes on you to make sure you don’t notice whilst he retrieves his small camera.
Pressing the camera against his face, he quickly pushes the button, capturing the sight in front of him. The ‘click’ sound of the photo being taken catches your attention, making you throw him a pointed look, lips parting with a small gasp.
“Harry!” You call out when you see him moving the camera from his face. “A warning wouldn’t hurt!”
“And what’s the fun in that?” He grins down at the picture shown on the small screen. “Don’t get to capture your natural beauty.”
He glances up at you, catching a blush creeping on your cheeks as you try to hold back a smile. “Does that mean I’m not pretty when I pose?”
“Course not,” he quickly denies, shaking his head. “Didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re always beautiful it’s just-”
“Harry,” you giggle as he nervously stumbles on his words. “I was just teasing.”
He shakes his head at you, “Just like the spontaneous moments s’all.”
“I know,” you smile fondly at him.
Now he feels like he’s the one blushing. Not even because of anything that’s being said but just by the way you’re smiling at him. It fills his stomach with the most beautiful butterflies. He glances down again so you don’t notice it, pretending he’s doing something on the camera, digits fidgeting with the buttons, mindlessly going through the menu that pops up. He peeks his eyes back up subtly, only to find you looking back out the window, but this time with the loveliest smile on your face.
It doesn’t take much longer until the train slowly comes to a stop. A vocal announcement coming from the tiny speaker above your heads lets you know it’s your stop, urging the passengers to step carefully out of the cabins. You quickly gather your belongings, joining the small crowd that’s drifting out to the platform.
The change in the atmosphere is abrupt when you step out. It almost feels as if you hit a wall of heat, the air around you is thick — making you reach for your water bottle hanging on the side of your backpack.
“Benvenuta a Verona!” Harry’s voice chirps from behind you, his hand adjusting his sunglasses on his face as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, hugging you close as you begin to follow the group moving towards the exit of the station. You arch your brows at him in a wordless question while you sip from the bottle in your hands. It doesn’t take more than that for him to understand your request, translating his previous words. “Welcome to Verona, darling.”
It makes an elated sigh to escape from your lips, “Fair Verona,” you say. “The city of love.”
“The city of love,” Harry repeats, letting his arm fall back to the side of his body once you turn to place your bottle back where you retrieved it from. “Excited?”
“Very,” you squeal, grabbing his arm and giving it a squeeze. “Only know this city through the words of our good old friend, William.”
He chuckles, “please stop referring to Shakespeare by his first name.”
“You know I won’t.” You joke, biting back a smile as you look up at him.
The shimmering sunlight hits the two of you as you walk out of the station, the sky painted a beautiful tone of blue. There’s a slight breeze hitting the spot on top of the entrance stairs, causing your dress to dance around your thighs as you step down to the sidewalk. You giggle as you bring your hands down, trying to keep the skirt from rolling up and revealing much more than you’d intended when you chose the outfit for the day. A few children run down the steps to catch the bubbles a smiley old lady blows from what seems to be a sweets stand, the sound of their laughter filling the surrounding space.
It seems like the perfect beginning for what Harry intends to be the perfect day. It nearly makes him sigh in relief when you glance at him with a bright smile adorning your face. If there’s anything he wants to get it right for you during your stay, it’s Verona.
He first visited the city when his previous roommate, Peter (a tall lanky Canadian boy that was almost as bad with Italian as Harry at first — and always managed to bring a laugh out of him) got offered a job at a small atelier located in the center of the city. Harry helped him with the moving part and in the midst of putting together wooden shelves and relocating couches, he found some time to wander around the streets nearby. It didn’t take much for him to fall in love with every corner, beguiled by every slight detail he noticed.
And it didn’t help how much of it reminded him of you, only consolidating how captivated he felt about it.
**
“This camera is so confusing,” you say once Harry approaches you.
You’re frowning down at the gadget in your hands, fingers pressing one of the multiple buttons next to the display screen, opening a menu screen that only reinforces your puzzled expression. It makes him smile; you look so fucking cute.
Harry makes a move to sit down next to you on the step next to the sidewalk, plopping in his mouth a piece of pineapple from the fruit bowl he had just purchased. He reaches for the camera in your hands, quickly pressing a few buttons so that the screen is back to displaying the pictures instead of the menu you had just opened. You mutter a quick ‘thank you’ as you shield your vision from the sun with your hand, squinting your eyes in a try to take a look at the screen under the bright sunlight.
“Why didn’t you bring your Polaroid?” You question, analyzing the photo shown on the small screen. It’s one he took of you when you walked into a no exit street because you loved the look of the flowers hanging from the balconies on the old buildings all the way down to the floor. You’re laughing at some dumb joke he had made, your eyes scrunched and your head thrown back in a big smile — it was probably his favorite picture he took of you. Your voice brings him back from his thoughts when he doesn’t answer right away. “Just would’ve been so much easier to use.”
“It’s broken,” he announces, focusing back on the fruits in front of him as he grabs a bite of a half-cut grape.
“What?” You gaze up at him in shock. “How?”
“Matteo,” he says, glancing up at you only to find your arched eyebrow. “My flatmate.”
You roll your eyes slightly, “I know who he is, Harry.” You say, “did he break it?”
“Sort of,” he starts, “we were drunk one night, and he wanted to take like some pictures on the staircase,” you frown at him, “don’t ask,” he chuckles, “long story short, he let the Polaroid fall down the steps, and she was never the same after that.”
“Oh my god,” you giggle. “Rest in peace, poor camera.”
“He bought me this one though, so it’s all good.” Harry motions to the device in your hands. “Was the cheapest nicest camera he could find, but it does the job just fine.”
You smile at him, moving your eyes back down to the small screen as you continue to go through the photos. Harry takes in the sight from where you two sit in comfortable silence, the loud mixture of different chatter surrounding the space. A crowd of people wanders around the small fair that covers the center of the open plaza. Some of them are clearly tourists with sunburnt skin and selfie sticks, he chuckles at a specific family wearing bright matching outfits, the two kids eating their small scoops of ice cream, but seeming to get it more on their own faces and clothes than inside their mouths. He can also pick out some that most likely are locals from around the area, ones that come with their reusable bags to pick out the fresh vegetables offered in the tents.
Harry picks up a piece of the fruit on the bowl with the plastic fork, holding it up near your mouth as an offer.
You peek at the food quickly, not really registering before wrapping your lips around it. “What is it?” Your voice is muffled as you chew.
“Watermelon,” Harry chuckles, “Do you not know how watermelon tastes?”
“Shut up.” He feels your elbow pushing him playfully as you let out a short laugh. “Just took me a second,” you look down at the bowl on his lap before meeting his again with a pout on your lips. “Can I have another one?”
And there’s no fucking way he could ever refuse. “Sure.”
He picks up another piece of watermelon, purposefully choosing the biggest one on the bowl, raising it up to offer you again. You lean towards the fork, your tongue poking out just a bit as you bite into the fruit presented to you. This would be fine, just a simple action, if you didn’t make sure to stare into his eyes while you do it.
The intention behind the gesture is unknown to him, but it doesn’t stop his breath from catching on his throat. He can feel his blood rush down his body, his cock plumping just slightly as he peeks down to watch your tongue poking out to lick a bit of the juice that’s on your lips, you chuckle slightly. The scene seems to happen almost in slow motion to him, and he can’t help but start feeling flustered, breaking his gaze away from you quickly. Of course, you couldn’t have done it on purpose, and he wonders if it was all a speck of his love deprived imagination once he peeks up to find you fiddling with your backpack sitting by your feet.
A blush in creeping on his cheeks as he looks down again, resting the fork back inside the bowl to reach for his sunglasses that rest on top of his head - with the purpose of holding back his curls.
“God, why did I pack so much stuff?” You ask yourself, completely unaware of his pounding heart, closing the backpack with a small laugh. “we’re only staying for a night and I brought like, three shirts.”
“Is it too heavy? I can carry it for you,” he offers, mentally cussing himself out for not doing it sooner.
“It’s fine, H, I can manage it.” You assure.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” he insists. “Should’ve asked Peter to leave a copy of his key under the doormat or summat, so you wouldn’t have to carry your stuff around all day.”
“Harry,” you giggle as he stops rambling. “It’s fine, not heavy at all.”
You reach to pick another piece of fruit from his almost empty bowl - this time a squared-cut apple.
“So, where are we headed next, boss?” You inquire, leaning your body against his.
“Uhm,” he clears his throat, taking a second to recompose himself. “You’ll see.”
You buff out an annoyed breath, “thought we agreed to stop with the surprises.”
“This is a special one, though,” he smirks. “You’ll like it, don’t worry.”
**
Just as he predicted he hears a gasp leave your lips as you turn around the tunnel, your face lighting up in excitement as you recognize the place standing in front of you.
Juliet’s house.
The building is simple, nothing too out of the ordinary when compared to other houses around the city. Except it’s the meaning behind the exposed brick walls and the notorious balcony poking out from the second floor that makes it so memorable. In the courtyard in front of the entrance, there’s a small group gathered up, some lining up in front of the house to go into the museum, and some crowded around the statue of Juliet positioned across from the front door. It’s not nearly as packed as it can usually get, though, and for that Harry lets out a relieved sigh, not wanting the mass amount of bodies crushed together in the limited space to spoil your experience.
This was the place Harry was most excited for you to visit, imagining how it would be to watch your glistening eyes from the moment you’d announced you had bought the tickets to visit him.
He knows how much you loved Romeo and Juliet, even being probably one of the most overused love stories ever written, you still gushed about it since the moment you first read it way back when you were in high school. It was the story that sparked in you the love for literature. The one you used in your final thesis - which even though Harry couldn’t really understand much of, he still read all the way through.
“This is amazing,” you breathe out, your eyes scanning every inch of the place around you — so caught up at the moment, you don’t even realize Harry’s watching you.
“Is it like how you imagined it?” He asks, biting into his cheek to stop him from smiling too hard when you look up with a slight grin.
“Well, I’ve seen it before, you know,” you say, gazing around the graffiti-filled walls. Harry raises his brows at you in a silent question, “I’ve watched Letters For Juliet.”
“Oh,” he follows you as you amble around. “Do they show this house in it?”
You gasp, turning to look at him with a dramatic shock in your face. “You’re telling me, Harry Styles, the king of romcoms, has never seen Letters For Juliet?”
He rolls his eyes at your teasing, chuckling softly, “unfortunately not.” He rests his hand over his heart, looking down, feigning shame. “Guess I have lost my crown.”
A giggle erupts from your lips, he looks up to watch you shake your head at him. “It’s just like I thought it would be, though,” you say, voice softer. “It’s beautiful.”
“You have to get your picture on Juliet’s statue,” he motions in the direction of the monument as you get closer to it, reaching for his bag to retrieve his camera. “Go grab her boob.”
“Don’t say it like that!” You snort, poking him playfully as you move to stand next to the motionless figure.
“But that’s the ritual!” He giggles, pointing the camera at you when you position your hand over her bust -- the bronze on the region already worn out from the numerous people that touch it every day.
You wait for the camera’s click, indicating the picture had been taken before jumping down from the step. “You rub her right breast to have luck in love, it’s a tradition,” you tell him, walking around the statue to glance at the wall, facing away from him. “You say it like it’s something… Cheeky.”
“So it isn’t cheeky?” You throw him a pointed look, causing him to chuckle as he raises his arms in defense. “It’s just an odd tradition, that’s all,” he glances down at the small camera screen to check the photo that was taken. It takes a moment of him smiling at it to himself before he realizes you didn’t say anything in response to his tease.
The silence makes him look up, searching around for you, quickly finding you standing not too far by the tunnel you had come from, your eyes focused on the ancient wall. He approaches you, earning a quick glance as you sense his presence getting closer. His eyes wander to the surface you’re focusing on. Every inch of it is covered with notes, some written in paper and glued to the surface, the edges of it marked with time stains, some written directly on the bricks. But all of them had the same feeling draped all over their words: love. It being the uncertainty of finding their other half, or the heartbreak of being separated from them. Most of them were as simple as just two initials, meant to mark the passion of a couple that had been in this exact same spot he stands on somewhere in time. A few of them, however, - mostly the ones written on paper - go more in dept in all kinds of tales of love.
Harry feels as if he could waste days just reading them all, and for your similar fascination, he assumes you could, as well.
“Look at all of those, H,” you gesture at the notes covering every inch of the stone walls. “Each one of them tells a different love story, isn’t it crazy?”
“It is,” he answers, his eyes focusing on a particular pink note in front of him. The writing is a bit smudged from time but he can still understand the words of a woman professing her love for her partner, their names written inside of a heart at the bottom of the paper. He finds himself wondering more about their story beyond the words written. “Do you think some of these couples are not together anymore?”
“Absolutely,” you say without skipping a beat, causing Harry’s eyes to peak over to you. You glance up at him, a small smile taking over your lips. “But you know what’s nice?”
“What?”
“Even if they’re not together anymore,” you begin, gazing back at the wall. “A part of their love will always stay here. Intact.”
He pauses, letting your words linger in the air as he gazes back at the note he was looking at. “That’s true.”
There’s a silence between you two, both quietly admiring all the different stories told in the few-worded messages splattered in front of you. It seems like something he could get lost for hours, just imagining how they all played out. Thinking about the moment that brought all of them to this place.
“Don’t waste your love on somebody who doesn’t value it,” you break the silence, reading the words written a bit lower in dirty white paint — the writing is big, taking over some of the notes. You let out a quiet sigh, voice so low he almost misses it, “William Shakespeare.”
Harry gazes down at you, trying to find some sort of indication on your intentions behind reading those words out loud but only being met with the side of your face, your eyes never leaving the words written in front of you.
“Maybe I should’ve listened to him, huh?” you let out a dry laugh as an attempt to mask the meaning of your words with humor, but your voice gives out just a bit, unveiling the hurt behind it.
The words you say hit Harry like a truck, his heart twisting as if someone had just ripped it out of his chest. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, knitting his brows together as he calls out your name just above a whisper. His voice is soft and tender, and he holds back the heaviness in his heart because this isn’t about him, you’re the one that needs to be comforted.
“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to be a downer,” you chuckle again, looking down at your shoes and facing away from Harry, your hands quickly moving up to rub your eyes. He calls you again, this time making a move to reach for your shoulder, but you turn around suddenly, giving him your best smile in an attempt to distract him from your watery eyes. “I’m fine, H, really. It’s just the feeling of this place making me a bit emotional,” it’s bullshit, you know it, he knows it. “How about we go back to that ice cream place we saw on our way over?”
“Do you not want to go inside the museum?” He inquires, the worry still visible in his features.
“It’s fine, I’ve read it’s mostly a cash grab, anyway,” you let out a dry laugh. You’re trying to make him smile, he can tell. “So, what do you say? Gelato?”
He wants to pry, wants to question you. But he swallows back his words, something he’s been perfecting with you over the years. Holding back his feelings, pretending they’re not there. It suffocates him sometimes, but he knows losing you is not worth it. So he does the same as always, smiling down at you and ignoring the knives on his heart. “That sounds lovely.”
**
There’s no mention of the occurrence at Juliet’s courtyard for the rest of the day. You don’t give him any opening to even bring it up as well, immediately changing the subject as soon as you go through the tunnel again. So Harry just pushes the subject to the back of his mind, in order to enjoy your company.
Eventually, you’re both sitting at a stone bench in front of Peter’s apartment building, waiting for him to come home so you can relax from walking around all day. He had been clear on his texts to Harry as for him not to take you out for dinner, arguing he wanted to teach you his - now improved, in his words - old spaghetti recipe. It’s something that brings a smile to his face, how his friends are so welcoming to you, being eager to meet the girl he rambles about so much.
So as the twilight settles on the sky above, and just in time for when you first complain about your groaning stomach, a loud voice greets the two of you. It makes you jump in your seat, causing Harry to laugh, recognizing his friend’s voice.
Peter greets you with a tight hug, barely giving you any time to get up from the seat. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” His voice sharp next to your ear. You gaze at Harry with slightly widening eyes from over his shoulder, only to be met with an amused grin as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. Peter pulls back from you, holding into your shoulder as he bends to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Heard so much about you, it’s almost as if I know you already!”
“Good things, I hope,” you chuckle, the earring dangling from his ear catching your attention as it shimmers with the bit of sunlight still glaring.
He reaches for Harry to give him a quick hug, quickly focusing back on you. “As if this man could ever say a single bad word about you.”
You raise your eyebrows at Harry, watching a blush creep on his cheeks as he shakes his head. “Everyone is out to embarrass me in this country.”
“Spare me of your drama tonight, Styles,” he reaches to lock his arm around yours, guiding you inside the building. “She’s the star today.”
You look over your shoulder to Harry’s face, a grin eminent on his lips as he follows behind. The way up the staircase to the apartment is spent with Peter’s voice echoing around the flat stone walls, babbling about a story of when he used to live in Rome. More specifically, one that involved Harry having too much to drink and rambling to him for hours about you. He doesn’t get to go into much detail, though, with Harry himself interrupting him with warm cheeks and eyes glancing at the back of his friend’s head, refusing to meet yours every time you smirk down at him.
You walk into his apartment and are instantly hit with a small furry cat snuggling against your legs, making you coo as you crouch to scratch behind its ears.
“That’s Romeo,” Peter points, reaching to pull the strap of his bag over his shoulder, throwing it on the couch next to him. “I’m very creative with names, as you can tell.”
“I love it,” you say, murmuring some compliments to the tiny creature before getting up.
“I’m gonna get everything started for dinner, your room is the first door on the right down the hall, you can get settled and meet me in the kitchen for your culinary lessons.” Peter doesn’t leave any room for questions, striding towards an arched entrance you didn’t notice next to you.
Harry starts to follow you as you go to the place Peter had indicated, but as he gets close, he notices Romeo chasing you curiously, trying to reach for your untied shoelace. He crouches down much to play with the cat, not paying much notice to you as you enter the room. The animal pursues his wiggly fingers, as Harry waves them in the air, moving them away in sudden movements every time Romeo get close to catching them.
“Uhm… Harry?” You call him from inside the room, appearing at the doorframe with a frown between your brows. You look in the direction of where Peter had disappeared, lowering your voice a bit. “I think we might have a little problem.”
“What is it?” he gets up, nearing you and stopping next to the open doorway.
“There’s only one bed here,” you step away to give him a visual of the room.
“Oh,” he walks in, taking a look into the small guest room, and just as you said, he only spots a single bed tucked right under the big window. He hadn’t even thought about that detail, “That’s a problem.”
You nod at him, eyes moving back to the bed a frown trying to find a solution for the issue in question. The bed is just simply too narrow for the two of you to even share without one having to sleep on top of the other, and as much as Harry wouldn’t mind that he would never suggest it out loud. So he just follows your gaze, as if staring at it would magically bring a resolution — apart from the most obvious one.
“Is everything okay in there?” Peter’s voice echoes at the end of the hallway once he spots the two of you hovering by the door.
You part your lips gazing at Harry expectantly. “Kind of,” he begins, “Is there only one bed here?”
Peter chuckles, leaving the books in his hand on top of a shelf before making his way to where you stand. “Forgot to show you, sorry about that.” He says, walking past you as he enters the room, leaning forward, he pulls out a mattress from under the bed. “There we go, no need to break your back on my tiny couch, H.”
“Hey!” Harry drags the word out in a dramatic manner, “who said I would be the one on the couch?”
A chuckle leaves your lips, your hand patting his chest playfully, “always a gentleman.”
“I would never let a guest sleep on the couch, Styles,” Peter argues. “As far as I know she is the guest here.”
You smile brightly at his words, bringing your hand up to meet his in a high-five. Harry rolls his eyes at the scene, “I should’ve never introduced you too.”
As promised, Peter teaches you how to make his improved sauce recipe, the kitchen quickly becoming filled with your giggles as you try to follow his instructions. Harry watches you two as he makes the pasta, every so often sneaking to your counter to steal a piece of whatever you’re cutting, earning a playful scolding from you. And soon, the scent of boiling tomato and fresh herbs takes over the air, Stevie Nicks’ voice singing lowly in the background while you chat. It’s such a simple moment, but he just feels so happy he wishes he could live the rest of his life like this.
After dinner, he notices your heavy eyelids and eventual yawns signaling your sleepy state. Still, you insist on washing your dishes, even after Harry persisting on doing it for you. So you stand quietly side by side, washing the plates and humming along to Dreams, bumping occasionally on each other hips. And not long after, you’re finally changing into your nightwear and tucking yourselves in your respective beds. Harry takes the mattress on the floor, not leaving any room for you to argue with his decision.
He can almost feel the sleep taking over his body, the soft sound of his own breathing and the low humming of the small fan tucked in the corner lulling him into slumber.
“I’m sorry for today,” your voice suddenly breaks into the quiet room, making him open his eyes to see you’ve moved to the edge of your bed, looking down at him. The moonlight from outside shines through the cracks of the closed curtains behind you, allowing him to only make out your silhouette, but not quite see your face. His lips part, but before he can say anything you whisper again, “Didn’t mean to cry.”
His face softens at your words, body shifting to get closer to you. “Don’t have to apologize for that,” he reassures, “Never have to apologize for it, love.”
He can tell your smiling, even with the shadow casting on your face. “I know,” you say. “Just didn’t want to be a downer.”
“You’re not,” he says in a heartbeat, “If anything you’re the one who brightens my day.”
You breathe out a laugh, “always a charmer, aren’t you?” You bring your hand to rest under your head. “Don’t have to use that with me.”
“I’m serious,” he props himself up on his elbow.
“Thank you, H,” you reach a hand down, to which he grabs it without a thought, enlacing your fingers together.
The room falls silent again. You stare into the ceiling, Harry’s thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand as he watches you. He watches your chest moving with your breathing; the frown adorning your face makes him want to reach up and caress it away, but he holds it back.
“I don’t think I ever even loved him, you know?” You confess quietly, the words coming out of your mouth quietly but rushed as if you’d been holding them back.
It takes him back a bit, not just due to new information presented to him but the meaning behind it. He lets it linger in the air for a moment, not sure how to respond. It’s the first time you’re even openly discussing your past relationship with him. He hesitates, but feels like it’s best to ask what he’s always wondered, “Why were you with him for so long then?”
“I-” you stop, exhaling when you turn to gaze at him once again. “I don’t know,” it comes out in a whisper, yet he can still sense the vulnerability in your voice. “I guess-” you begin, sighing frustratedly. “I guess I just didn’t want to be alone.”
There’s a familiar pang in his heart at the way you say it, knowing how deeply he could relate to the words but hating it that you had to go through it. He squeezes you hand in a silent attempt of comforting you, “you weren’t alone.” He asserts, “always here with you.”
You squeeze his hand back, “I know.”
He lets the air fall quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours, even in the dark he can still make out the glistening in them as you stare down at him. A part of him wants to question you more, ask why you never told him you felt like that, and then he asks himself how could he not notice it? He can feel himself frowning, his thoughts rushing inside his head. But before he could even begin beating himself up for it, your voice interrupts him.
“Harry?” You say a bit hesitantly, he hums in response, blinking the invasive thoughts away. “I know this might be a bit weird.” Your voice traces off.
“What is it?”
“Do you think-” you gaze down to where your hands are grasped together, avoiding his eyes. “Do you think I could sleep down there… with you?”
His breath hitches on his throat, “Oh.”
“It’s just- I just- Dunno… wanted to be close,” you breathe out a nervous laugh. “God that was weird, I’m sorry, just- forget it.”
You try to pull your hand back but he prevents you from doing so, tightening his hold just slightly. “Hey, stop that,” he shimmers back on the mattress. “not weird at all, come here.”
He lets go of your hand to pull back the thin sheet draped over his body, inviting you in. He ignores the ways his heartbeat picks up when you drape a leg down, allowing yourself to fall next to him, not wasting a minute as you snuggle closer to his body. The citric scent of your hotel shampoo mixed faintly with sunscreen takes over his senses once you lay your head down on his shoulder.
It’s not the ideal position to be in on a warm summer night, the heat of your bodies only enhancing the high temperature. But Harry doesn’t mind in the slightest, only pulling you closer as he fights the urge to press a kiss on your head.
**
Your last day comes with a sorrowful feeling settling itself on Harry’s mouth.
It’s true what they say about time flying by when you’re having fun, the whole week of your stay seeming like had gone through in a blink of an eye for him. The simple thought of having to see you through the screen of his computer, face pixelated due to the poor internet connection, brings an unsettling ache to his chest. And he doesn’t like it one bit. As much as your visit wasn’t nearly as long as he wishes it could’ve been -- granted if it was in his way you would’ve moved in with him since the very beginning. Still, it was enough time for him to grow used to your presence every day. Enough for him to know what it feels like to wake up in his favorite place with his favorite person around. To know how it is to have you wander around the narrow streets of the city, and he fears your absence will just make them look dull in comparison.
He tries not to think about it. To waver off the thoughts of you leaving as soon as they prompt themselves into his mind. But it’s hard not to let reality hit him when he has to watch you pack your bags. Sitting in the old armchair arranged at the corner of your cramped hotel room. You try to make a light conversation, joking around about the number of souvenirs you bought as gifts — most of it being small magnets for your mom’s fridge collection. He only manages to force a short chuckle out of him, focusing back on the small window to watch the movement (or lack of) on the street.
The midday sun was shimmering proudly on top of the sky, reminding him the morning had already come and gone. He had told you the day prior that there was no need to wake up early for the day, telling you to rest so you could enjoy the night out Giorgia had invited you to. You were grateful for the extra hours of sleep, considering the hectic schedule of early rising and walking around all day was already starting to take a toll on you. But you still managed to wake up not so late, wanting to use the morning to pack your bags. Sealing the fact that it was almost time for you to leave him.
“You know, pouting in the corner is not a lot of help,” you say, a smirk adorning your face letting him know you’re just teasing him.
“Not pouting,” he mutters turning his face from you and snuggling further into the chair.
“I can see that,” you giggle, reaching for a cushion from the bad and throwing it at his lap, making him shoot a look at you, a small ‘hey!’ leaving his lips. “C’mon, the sooner I’m done with this, the sooner we can start the day properly.”
With that, he gets up from the chair just to plop himself back down on the bed in front of you. He takes a look at your clothes neatly folded next to him, watching as you grab a sock to wrap around a small statue of Romeo and Juliet so it wouldn’t break on your trip back home. He can’t help the sigh that escapes, “Not much planned til later in the afternoon, though, so you’re good.”
You raise your brows at him, “yeah?” A grin grows on your lips. “No more surprises up your sleeve?”
He breathes out a laugh, “thought I could give you a break on your last day,” his voice is soft, not matching your playful tone. “just want to hang out in my apartment for a bit before we have to leave to meet everyone.”
“Oh, so will I finally get the honor to visit the Styles private residence?” you gasp.
“It’s nothing much, you’ll see,” he says, fidgeting with his nails. “But I do have the slimmest balcony in the world, that we can partially sit on.”
“Well, I better hurry up and finish with this then,” you gather a pile of clothing lying on the bed and place it inside the open luggage resting on the floor.
It doesn’t take you much longer to finish up arranging your clothes back inside your bag, leaving a few pieces out for you to change into when you eventually go to sleep. You don’t bother to pick out a different outfit to catch your flight in the early morning, arguing that you’re not trying to impress anyone at the plane so you might as well just go in your pajamas and make your life a bit easier.
And soon, Harry guides you around the familiar blocks that lead back to his apartment building. Just like he had warned you about, it’s very much a student’s home, the best one he could afford with his savings from some jobs he could get here and there. It’s still more than enough for him to fill the sense of being home after a stressful day. He’s got a few plants around that he bought from a girl in his photojournalism class that was obsessed with botanics. There are a few books splattered around his center table and he realizes he had completely forgotten to clean around before having you here.
“Is Mateo in here?” You ask as he urges you in the direction of his room before you can take notice of the mess in the living room.
“I think he’s out with his girlfriend,” he rushes you in, closing the door behind in once you enter the room. “It’s just us here.”
You hum in response, looking around the place he’s been making his own for months. He reaches for the folded chairs leaning against his closet doors. They’re usually used by him and Mateo during the weekends when they feel like staying home and drinking as they watch the sky turn dark around them. But now he gets to do it with you — except the night sky, considering there are still hours left of sunlight upon you.
“Look at her!” You utter suddenly, causing Harry to glance at you over his shoulder as he opens the glass doors that lead to his balcony. He catches a glimpse of his broken Polaroid camera in your hands — having completely forgotten about it. “Can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me neither,” he sets the chairs down on opposite ends, but still close enough thanks to the narrow space. “I’ll get someone to fix her soon enough, though.”
“I’m glad,” you set the camera back down to where you found it. Harry leans back on the open door behind him, watching as you snoop around his room.
He can’t contain the smile that rips through his lips when you look at the pictures he had spattered on the wall next to his bed, reaching to touch one of the two of you. It’s a picture from your last birthday before he left for Italy, ironic enough, one that had been taken but your then-boyfriend. Harry had his arms wrapped around your shoulders, chin resting on top of them as you both smiled widely to the camera.
Your back faces him as you keep looking around, preventing him from knowing your reaction. He zooms out for a moment, eyes fixed on a random point of his wooden floor of the quiet room. A gasp from you causes him to break away from his thoughts, jumping a bit with the sudden sound.
You turn to look at him, mouth agape in shock, your hold up a small bottle of black nail polish — something that Harry had completely forgotten about it. “Is this yours?”
“Yup,” he nods. “Peter gave it to me a couple months ago.”
“You’ve never told me you painted your nails!” You shake your face in disbelief. “I’ve never even seen you with your nails painted!”
He chuckles, “Haven’t done it a lot, love, probably just once or twice.” he shrugs, looking down at his clear nails, “I’m proper shit at it, if I’m honest, always get it all smudged.”
“Not anymore,” your grin grows. “You gotta let me do your nails, H.”
“Course you can,” he breathes out a laugh. “When do I ever tell you no?”
A squeak leaves your mouth as you jump to him, giving him a quick hug. “You’re gonna look so good with your nails done.”
Harry simply rolls his eyes, ignoring your comment as he feels a familiar warm feeling on his ears. You motion towards the chair he had prompted on the balcony, bouncing to the other one as he props himself down on it. Crossing your legs under your bum, you take one of his hands, resting it gently over your knee as you bend down to start the process. He stares down at you, appreciating your concentrated features, a frown adorning your forehead, tongue sticking out just barely as you focus on applying a thin coat over his nails. His heart skipping a beat as you peek at him from under your lashes, making him look away quickly, eyes wandering mindlessly through the surroundings.
The apartment is not high enough so you can have a perfect overlook of the city from it, but it’s still a nice view nonetheless. There’s a modest park just by the corner of his street, and from where he sits there’s a perfect view of the greenery arranged around the perimeters. At this time he can discern some families enjoying their summer, some children’s pitched screams as they run around in the small playground echoing through the otherwise quiet street.
“Can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me,” your voice breaks the silence between you two.
He glances back at you, meeting your eyes as you lean down briefly to blow air at his nails, making him realize that you were done with the hand. He places his other one on top of your knee before you even tell him to switch, arching his brows at your words. “Hardly a secret, told I don’t do it a lot.”
“Well, that’s about to change,” you say as you start to work on the blank nails presented in front of you. “If it was for me you’d never leave your nails unpainted ever again.”
A short laugh erupts from his lips, “if only I knew how to paint them properly.”
You click your tongue, holding his ring finger as you flick the brush carefully over the nail. “Guess I’ll have to move here then,” you joke, looking up with a smirk. “So I can be your personal nail technician.”
He bites back a smile, dismissing the warmth in his chest from the simple suggestion behind your words. “Guess you’ll have to.”
**
Harry’s upset.
And he knows he shouldn’t be. He doesn’t want to be. But he can’t help it.
It’s your last night before you catch an early flight back home, and he’s barely seen you since the moment you stepped in the bar.
And what’s even more upsetting to him is that going out to this place wasn’t even in his plans, to begin with. Originally, he had planned on having a simple relaxing day, just the two of you. To have you sitting next to him on the terrace of his building, feeding you his perfected recipe of bruschetta while you share a bottle of wine. He can almost picture it, the sky a perfect mix of colors as the sun sets behind the buildings, your cheeks flushed and lips reddened from the alcohol. He can see your full smile whilst you exchange stories from the time you’ve spent apart or recall fondly memories of the times you were together as the night flies by without either of you noticing.
But none of that actually happened, of course. All due to his inability to say ‘no’.
Instead, here he is, in a bar he doesn’t even like that much — it’s always way too crowded and the music is way too loud to even attempt on having a conversation.
It was Giorgia’s idea; she insisted you had to experience a night out in Rome, and with her being so excited to meet you he couldn’t find it in his heart to say no. At the time he didn’t even consider the possibility of not being by your side. Thinking it would be nice to go out with you for the last time, expecting to have a fun night drinking fruity shots of unknown drinks. Maybe deep down he even thought about the possibility of being able to have you all over him, knowing how clingy you can get after a few drinks.
But those thoughts were snatched away from him almost as quickly as you were once the two of you stepped into the bar. The girls pulled you from his side to show you around, and all he was left with was a quick glance from over your shoulder before you disappeared into the crowd.
So here he is. Sitting at the table with a bloke he doesn’t even know (he was presented to him at some point, but Harry didn’t really bother to register his name). The man was rambling about something Harry couldn’t really care less at the moment, only nodding along to his words and offering short replies every so often. He’s aware of the deep frown between his brows, his eyes peeking at you every minute or so.
You’re standing near the bar with Giorgia leaning in to say something into your ear. He can see a smile breaking into your face and at this point, he’s aware that he’s staring. Your eyes meet his and for the first time, he doesn’t break eye contact when you catch him watching you, offering a weak smile instead. He can tell even from afar that you notice his grouchy expression, saying something back to the girl next to you before you strut in his direction.
“Are you okay?” You question as you get close to him, your brows meeting in a frown, and your worried eyes meeting his own. “You’ve been a bit distant, what’s wrong?”
His heart flutters in his chest, just the fact that you’re checking up on him is enough to make him feel warm in all the nicest ways. He takes a sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly as he breaks his gaze from you. “I’m fine,” he begins, knowing he would never tell you in a million years what’s really making him so grumpy. “Just not feeling so well.”
You don’t believe him, of course you don’t, knowing him way too well to figure out he’s lying through his teeth. But thankfully for him, you don’t press it further, knowing this isn’t the best place for this discussion. Instead, you place your hand on his knee, rubbing it softly before you lean in. “Do you want to leave? We can go back to your apartment.”
“It’s okay, love,” he reassures, “can’t waste your last night here.”
“Wouldn’t be a waste,” you argue back, so quickly he knows there’s not a doubt in your mind as you say it. “Just wanna spend it with you, doesn’t matter how.”
And now he feels as if his heart could beat right out of his chest, just rip a hole right through it and give itself to you. He feels his bloodstream running through his veins, his whole body warming up to it as if every cell was lighting up with the words coming out of your lips.
He wants to tell you that’s all he needs as well. He wants to tell you how being with you it’s enough for him. He opens his lips to do it, but one look into your eyes just makes his mind go blank. So instead, he just blurts out, “I’m gonna take a wee.”
And just like that, he gets up from the booth, barely giving you enough time to nod in response as he rushes towards the bathrooms. The sound of the shame in his mind for choosing the easy way out is so loud he can almost hear ringing in his ears. He thanks all the outer forces in the world when he finds the man’s room unoccupied, walking into it before closing the door behind him with a shaky breath leaving his lips.
Harry doesn’t know what exactly is making him feel like this. If it’s the fact that it’s your last night with him and he’s barely got a single minute with you. Or if it’s the weight of the unspoken words between the two of you starting to overwhelm him. It’s almost like a game you two play, tiptoeing around the emotions that dare to appear every time there’s a lingering touch or a knowingly look shared between the two of you. It’s those moments of intimacy without necessarily touching each other, when you allow yourself to feel vulnerable with a simple act of sharing words. There’s something overpowering about those moments, Harry thinks. And it’s all coming to him now.
He looks up to meet his eyes on the small dirty mirror hanged on the bathroom wall. There’s nothing much different from the reflection he saw before leaving his apartment to come to the bar, maybe apart from the deep frown still marking the skin between his brows, and his hair a bit messier from running his hands through it so much. His eyes hold back an ache from the thoughts wavering around his mind.
It’s pathetic, really. That’s the best word he can come up to describe how he feels. Being in a grimy bathroom on a packed bar the moment he realizes how in love he is with his best friend. This is not a new discovery for him, of course, he was gone for you since the very first moment you got introduced to each other. But this was a feeling that, as time passed by, he’s learned to overlook for the sake of keeping you close, even if it wasn’t the way he yearned for.
Maybe he perfected his own capacity of ignoring his emotions that for a moment he convinced himself they weren’t there anymore. He scoffs at himself, shaking his head almost in disbelief. Pathetic.
He really thought that the distance it would just eventually dull the longing in his heart, but what he didn’t expect was for it to have the complete opposite effect. Seeing you just lit up this part of him he had buried deep inside of his heart.
There’s no reason anymore keeping him from telling you. There hasn’t been one for months now, ever since your last breakup.
He takes a deep breath, splashing a bit of water on his face as he wishes he could’ve had enough to drink to give him the burst of courage to even face you after this moment of realization with himself. He’s aware of how long it’s been since he excused himself, so with a final look to his reflection he leaves the small bathroom with the same rush he had gotten in.
His mind is rushing with too many thoughts for him to even keep up with as he approaches the booth he left you waiting in. But as soon as the table comes into his vision he freezes in his place, taking in the sight in front of him.
You’re sitting there in the exact same spot you were when he left. What unsettles him is the figure sitting next to you. It’s the same bloke that was talking to him after you left with the other girls - the one he still couldn’t remember the name if his life depended on it.
The man had clearly scooped closer to you after Harry left the scene, his arm conventionally resting on top of your seat. It’s evident on the stupid smirk growing on his face as he pushes his dirty blond locks from his face, his undoubtfully charming Italian accent probably apparent while he chats you up. You don’t seem to be minding the attention either, your lips turning into a smile as your fingers fiddle with the straw of your drink.
It feels like someone punched Harry in the stomach, maybe even the actual act wouldn’t hurt him as much as it does to see you flirt with a guy equivalent of a Hollister model. It brings a suffocating ugly feeling to take over every cell of his being. The words that had been playing in his mind completely disappearing.
It’s at this moment he wishes he could’ve drunk enough to cloud his senses. Wishes he could blame the drinks for his irrational decision of intervening the conversation. But it’s not the alcohol that makes him stride in the direction of the booth, it’s something much stronger - jealousy.
You can feel his presence as soon as he gets close, turning around to look at him with the smile still splattered on your face. He doesn’t even register how your eyes light up, shooting a stern look at the man still leaning towards you. “Harry—”
“We should go,” he interrupts you, cringing as his voice leaves harder than he had intended to.
“Oh,” your smile drops, frowning at him. “Are you still not feeling well?”
“I just--” he softens his expression when he meets your eyes. Looking down, the embarrassment of his thoughtless reaction getting to him as he tries to find an excuse for his request, breathing out in frustration when he can’t think of one. “Just think we should go.”
“Okay,” your voice is calm and causes a pang to hit his heart when you shoot him an understanding smile, not questioning the reasoning behind his words any further.
Soon, after saying your goodbyes, you are walking silently side by side on the sidewalk that quickly had become so familiar for the two of you - the one leading to your hotel. Harry can’t help but beat himself up the whole way back. He mindlessly pokes at his nails - a bad habit of his when he’s too anxious - not even realizing he was chipping the nail polish you had carefully applied earlier.
He can feel you gaze up at him every so often, your lips parting as if to say something but never doing it. And as the lights from inside the glass front doors of your hotel get closer, he can feel the heaviness in his heart weighing down, the guilt of cutting short your last night together settling into his mind. He keeps his eyes glued to the sidewalk as you come to a stop just before you reach the entrance of the building.
It takes him a second to notice you stayed behind, making him stop in his tracks and look up to meet your eyes. The lighting on the street is dim, but it’s enough for him to make out clearly the worry in your expression.
“Harry,” you call him, your voice small but tender. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
His eyes break from yours, focusing on the detail of the exposed bricks behind you, moving to the streetlight a few meters away, looking at anything but you. After his scene back in the bar, he doesn’t even know what to tell you, racking his brain for the right words but whenever he thinks of a way to confessing the truth, there’s something holding him back.
It’s the second time in the night he wishes he had more to drink earlier in the evening. Maybe with a few drops of alcohol on his bloodstream, the words would fly easier from his lips.
From the corner of his vision, he can see you step closer to him. Your hand comes up to caress his cheek, moving his head gently so his eyes are locked on yours once again. “Please, H, I know something is up,” you plead, retracting your hand leaving only the ghost of your touch lingering on his skin. “Don’t wanna leave with this weird feeling between us.”
You’re right, and he’d be damned if he lets you go with this last impression of him. “I don’t think there’s a right way for me to say this,” he says his thoughts out loud, “seeing you again — having you here with me, just made me, I guess, admit to myself something I’ve been holding back for way too long now.” his heart pounds in his chest as he searches into your eyes for a single clue of your feelings.
He can tell you’re confused, your brows arching up as you wait for him to continue, but any other thought going through your mind is a mystery to him, which only makes it harder for him to get the words out.
“I just--” he lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, fuck it. “I just don’t think I can go another minute without knowing how it feels to kiss you.”
The words come out near to a whisper, visibly taking you back as you widen your eyes slightly at the confession. It takes you a moment to process, his eyes looking desperately into yours in a search for a trace of reciprocity, or rejection, or anything really.
“Harry,” you finally say, after what seemed like an eternity to him. “Is this — does this mean—”
He allows himself to take a step closer to you, this time he’s the one reaching to caress your cheeks. His moves are still hesitant, but once he realizes you’re not pulling back he cups your face, thumbs rubbing lovingly at your cheekbone. “Means I’m in love with you, darling,” he’s done holding back.
Your breath gets caught in your throat, the closeness between you two makes him aware of the tears that poll up on your waterline. “I love you too,” your voice cracks, the word coming low as you swallow back a cry.
He still hears them, though, he hears them just fine. His own eyes well up as he lets his forehead fall against yours, his lips parting in a smile so big it almost rips his face in half. “Oh baby,” he lets out a relieved chuckle, “could get used to hearing that.”
The most beautiful giggle comes out of your mouth, your hand moving to the back of his neck pulling him in. “Thought you said you couldn’t take another minute without kissing me,” you bite down a smile.
He gives you one last look, his eyes so loving it feels as if there’s nothing else in this world apart from the two of you. His hand moves to tangle into your hair when he finally leans down to close the space, meeting your mouths in the middle. The kiss is soft and slow, the nerves behind it still radiating from the two of you, but slowly fading away with the excitement of fulfilling the long-overdue desire shared.
It’s a new feeling to you, knowing how it is to have his lips against yours, but somehow it still gives you a sense of familiarity. The excitement of a new discovery, yet the comfort of the intimacy. But the last thing occupying your mind is the duality of emotions in your heart as his tongue smooths your bottom lip. He steps forward, gently pushing you until you can feel your back against the wall of the long-forgotten building behind you.
Not once does he breaks the kiss, only deepening it when your back meets the exposed bricks. His hand massages the hair on the back of your neck as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you as close as possible — almost as if to convince himself that this was, indeed, real.
You stay like this for a moment, exploring each other’s mouths, getting used to the feeling of being closer than you’ve ever been in the years of friendship. Eventually, he pulls back to catch his breath, pecking your lips softly before he lets his forehead rests against yours.
For a moment, you just stay like this. Looking at the other without being able to hold back a smile. Simple enjoying the exciting bliss surrounding you with heavy breaths and puffy lips.
You decide to break the silence, your voice low. “Would you like to come up to my room?”
The cutest giggle erupts from his lips, “so polite.” He leans to give another peck at your lips. “Of course I would, baby.”
The way up to your room is a bit of a blur. Both too entranced on one another to pay attention to it, sneaking touches on the elevator ride while exchanging knowing glares. You feel like a teenager sneaking with her boyfriend without her parent’s knowledge, both trying to keep their hands to themselves, that is until you open the door to your room.
At the moment your door clicks behind you his lips are back on yours, this time more desperate, not wasting a second as he licks into your mouth. His hands grip onto your waist moving up to rub at the side of your breasts.
You move your own hands to grab at the hem of his shirt before slipping the underneath it, scratching where you know his inked ferns lie upon his skin. He grunts softly into your lips, breaking the kiss to slip the shirt off of him completely.
“Someone’s eager,” you tease, smoothing your palms over his chest as you push him gently in the bed's direction.
He throws the clothing blindly on the floor before reaching his hand on your jawline. A smirk grows on his face, his irises dilated with lust staring down at you. “Been waiting for this for too fucking long, darling.”
Once the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sits back on it, pulling you in by the back of your thighs so you’re on top of his lap. As you relax into him, his hands reaching for your hips to pull you closer, the new position makes you well aware of the growing bulge under his trousers. He leans forward to connect his lips on your neck, spattering kisses down the side of your neck, sucking a few spots on your skin.
You tangle your hand into his hair, pulling at it with a small whine when he bites into the one spot under your jawline. He grunts into your skin, sucking on it again this time causing an actual whimper escape from your throat.
“Christ, baby,” he pulls back to look up at you, his rosy lips forming a cocky grin. “You’re a fucking dream, aren’t you?”
You just giggle in response, drawing him in to connect your lips once again. His hands move on your back as if he’s trying to touch you everywhere at once, settling themselves on the straps of your dress, playing with it for a second before pulling it down your shoulders. What he’s not expecting is to be met with your bare chest underneath, nipples hardening from the exposure.
He breaks the kiss to look down shamelessly, hands moving to the side of your breasts. “Fuck—” he mutters under his breath, bringing his thumb to hover over your nipple, barely touching it. “Trying to kill me, angel?”
Harry’s arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in so you arch your back towards him, almost seeming like an invitation. To which he gladly accepts, leaning now to envelop one of your buds with his mouth. He sways his tongue over it, the warm feeling enhancing the sensitivity of it. You don’t hold back the moan that escapes your throat, grinding your hips down at his in a quick movement. This makes him pull off with a groan, spattering open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts.
“Arms up, babe,” he says, pulling back to look at you as you oblige, holding your arms above your head. His hands fiddle with the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head so quickly you barely register the piece of clothing leaving your body.
Once you’re almost naked apart from your simple pastel pink underwear, he wraps an arm around your waist once more. This time, however, instead of pulling you close, he turns his torso, making a move as if to get up, but only switching positions so that you’re lying on the bed. You back hits the covers maybe a bit too harsher than he had intended too, but you don’t mind one bit, the roughness in his actions only contributing to the growing damp on your core.
He stands at the end of the bed, shifting off of his trousers as he looks down at you. It’s not simply a lustful gaze, from having you laid out in front of him — a thought he had entertained himself with for years. It’s more than anything a loving gaze, his darkened eyes glistening at you as he gives you the sweetest smile, causing his dimple to mark his cheek. He takes a moment after getting rid of his pants to just take your sight in, just for a second. You get shy under his eyes, but before you can even think of hiding away from it he’s crawling towards you.
Once he gets to your eye level again, hovering above you, silver cross hanging from his neck, he kisses you. But unlike the other hungry filled ones, this time it’s tender, his mouth moving so slow it makes you melt under his touch. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” his lips brush against yours. “The most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
You chuckle, pulling back to look at him. “Yeah, right.”
“It’s true,” he spatters kisses along your cheek before bringing his eyes to meet yours. “Reckon I could hang your picture on the walls of a museum, let everyone see how beautiful you are.”
There’s a blush creeping on your cheek, the warmth taking over the back of your neck as you feel goosebumps rising on your skin due to the low tone of his voice. You’ve always known Harry for being a sweet talker, knowing he could charm anyone with his words. But something about hearing him say it to you in such an intimate moment, voice raspy as he mutters in your ear, makes your heart stutter in your chest.
You wrap your legs around his ass, pulling him down so his crotch meets yours above the fabric of your underwear. He grinds down slightly, grunting down as he lets his head fall on your shoulder, mouthing down at your neck.
“Wanna taste every inch of you,” he moves to kiss the corner of your lips.
His lips start to move down, peppering kisses along your jawline, but you only let him get as far as the base of your neck, pulling at his shoulders to prevent from moving further. “Later,” you whimper when he brings his hips down to meet yours again, the action only building up the desire bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “We have all night for that.” He looks at you with arched brows, “just need you close.”
“You have me,” he says, his words somehow seeming like much more than just lustful thinking.
His hands hold on to your thighs, digits digging into your skin. He sits back on his calves, leaning in to suck into a spot on your stomach before straightening his posture so he stands tall above you. There’s a moment of teasing when his fingers waver over your skin, the ghost of his touch sending chills down your spine straight to your damped center. It makes you whimper with anticipation, raising your hips upward.
“Someone’s eager,” he repeats your words with a smirk, bringing his fingers to meet the waistband of your underwear.
You lift your hips when he begins to pull the material out of your body, raising your legs so he can pull it off completely. His breath noticeably hitches once he takes a look down at your glistening folds, your arousal beginning to pool.
“Shit, baby--” his fingertip brushes over your core, gathering some of the wetness. You inhale sharply, moving to support your body on your forearms, looking down to watch his moves. “Fucking drenched for me, look at that,” he breathes out.
He eases two fingers into you, without much of a warning. The easiness to which you take him makes him mutter a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He starts with a slow but steady rhythm, stretching you out. There’s a needy moan that leaves your lips once he brings his thumb to nudge at your clit, hands grasping the covers. The sound makes him snap his eyes at you, crawling back to hover above you without stopping the movement of his digits inside of you.
You move your hands to clutch at his hips when he’s in your eye level again, nails digging into the skin as you try to bring him down, but he’s restricted by the position of his own hand between your thighs.
“Harry,” you cry out, opening your eyes you didn’t even register had been closed. “More, please—” you grip at his hips again as if to assert your request.
His fingers pull out of you completely, you clench around the emptiness, sighing in frustration. He makes a show of bringing them between his lips, sucking into them and letting out a satisfied hum. Your eyes keep locked in his, nails clutching at his briefs, trying to pull them down.
He supports himself above you with one arm moving the hand that was previously in his mouth to meet your desperate one grabbing at his underwear. He shifts awkwardly as he removes the last piece of clothing separating you two. His cock slaps back at his stomach, a line of precum already accumulating at the reddened tip.
You hold your breath when he wraps his hand around himself, giving it a few pumps. He lets out a pleased breath, smiling cockily as your hips buck towards him impatiently. A few strands of his hair fall charmingly against his forehead when he looks back at you, lips puffy when he leans to give you a peck.
“Ready?” He rasps, lips brushing against yours. You nod almost desperately, trying to bring him closer. “Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?”
Your head falls back on the cushions once you feel him glaze his tip between your folds, circling it at your clit before he finally nudges his hips forward. A gasp escapes from your throat as his length fills you in, his forehead falling against yours with a low moan. He pushes it all the way in, allowing you a moment to get used to it. He reaches for your hands, enlacing your fingers together and lifting them just above your head.
“God,” he chokes once he’s fully inside, thrusting his hips involuntarily when you clench around him, earning a low mewl from you. “Feel that, baby? Feel me all the way in your belly?”
You whine his name, “So good, please--” you grind your hips in a silent plead to get him to move.
He doesn’t waste another second, pulling back only to thrust in again. You let out a high moan this time, hands gripping tighter on his, noses brushing. He drives his hips down at your in a slow but hard pace, the sound of your skin slapping mixing with your whimpers in the hot air surrounding the two of you. With each thrust, there’s a delicious burn between your thighs, only helping to heighten the rush of pleasure taking over your body.
“So good— Feel so good around me,” Harry groans, quickening the pace in which his hips meet yours. “Thought about it for so long, baby. — fuck, needed you for so long.”
“You have me,” you let out a sharp pant, cursing his name when he hits a spot inside of you, toes curling on the back of his thighs. You repeat with a quiet moan, your mind hazy with desire. “You have me.”
“I love you,” he says with a sharp grunt, and you feel like your heart might hammer right out of chest at any moment. “Christ, darling, hear that? So wet around me, gonna make me slip right off.”
His words only intensify the bubbly feeling taking over your stomach, your walls pulsating around him. He swears with a pleased moan, rhythm faltering. One of his hands untangles itself from your fingers, moving down to rub swift circles over your clit. You cry out, arching your back, feeling an electric bliss consuming every cell of your body.
“Cum for me,” he pleads, only increasing his movements when you feel you burst under him, riding out your high with sloppy thrusts, feeling his own orgasm creep at the pit of his stomach.
“Harry,” you let out a mewl once you come down, the sensitivity becoming almost overwhelming.
It doesn’t take much longer for him to quiver above you, his cock twitching inside of you. His face buries on your throat, a drawn-out whine vibrating on your skin as he releases his orgasm.
You stay like that for a while, a mess of sweaty limbs, trying to catch your breaths. Your mind is still cloudy from the bliss, trying to wrap itself around what just happened. With a pleased sigh, you unwrap your shaky legs from around his waist, letting them fall limply on the covers.
With that, Harry shifts his body with a tiny grunt, weakly rolling on his back so he’s lying on the spot next to you. You turn on your side to face him. There’s a tender smile painted on his face when you lock eyes, his arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, pressing his lips on the top of your head.
“Maybe they’ll delay your flight again,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of hope sweeping in the back of his mind. “So you can stay longer.”
“Shh,” you bring your hand to caress his cheek, poking out your thumb to line at his bottom lip. “Let’s not think about that just yet.”
“Okay.”
And for a moment you two just stay there, admiring each other without saying a word. There are a thousand unanswered questions waving around the room, but none of you feels like going into them. So instead, you just enjoy the other, your breaths still a bit heavy and chests fluttered. But melting into each other's touch.
Harry’s fingers are gentle as they smooth on your cheek, the feeling so soothing it makes you close your eyes.
“Don’t fall asleep,” he pleas, his voice just above a whisper. “Don’t want this to be over.”
Your smile is tender and warms his heart in the most beautiful ways, your eyes fluttering open as your hand reaches up to move a strand of his hair from his forehead. “It doesn’t have to be.”
#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles x reader
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Out For Revenge: The Revengers Headlining Tour — Chapter Two
Paring: Guitarist!Loki x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 8,585
Summary: Ever since that first gig at the pub, you’ve been following The Revengers—as well as getting closer with Loki, of course—and they’ve gotten big. Big enough to where they’ve landed a small recording deal and secured a headlining tour after their first album takes the rock scene by storm.
When Loki drops in at your job, as he does almost every day now, he invites you to the celebratory party for the big news. That same night, you and Loki further your growing relationship.
Warnings: i will be honest there may be a little bit of angst. it’s not that angsty, but it’s loki being realistic and ur wanting to smack him upside the head. mentions of alcohol, body shots, reader may be a Little Too Bisexual in this (sorry if that’s not ur cup)
Notes: i wrote the last of this fic delirious at 7 am after 6 hours of sleep, listening to the rocketman soundtrack. if this fic doesn’t bang, then i’ll die it’s fine this is fine. hope u all love it!!!
Tag List (if you want to be tagged in stuff like this or any future works, join my taglist here!): @mushroomlupin @mariahlaufeyson @lam-ila @a-lonely-gray-couch @sineads-art @rosaline-black @lokis-little-love @lokis-tigress @radicallyred
F E E D B A C K! | A O 3 L I N K! | T A G L I S T L I N K | WANNA READ THE WHOLE SERIES? CLICK HERE!
Better clothes for you was simply changing out of your work uniform and into mostly what you wear around the apartment—a pair of leggings (they have pockets, you can never go wrong with wearing these ever), a slightly form fitting shirt before tossing a hoodie on over it.
You would dwell on how you look in front of Loki, but considering he said to dress comfortably and your long day at work, you’re not giving any fucks. You give yourself one last look over before leaving your place with your phone and wallet in your hoodie’s pocket, keys in hand.
You pull your phone from your pocket once you’re behind the wheel of your car again, seeing another text from Loki.
You don’t work tomorrow, do you? I don’t want you to feel pressured to coming tonight :(
You cooed, leaning back in your seat while your heart slammed a little harder in your chest.
No! Tomorrow’s a rare day off it’s okay!! I’m heading your way now, be there soon.
Turn that frown upside down, rockstar you don’t look as pretty when you pout.
Part of you definitely debated on not sending that second text just as you hit send—Loki looked pretty doing anything with his facial expressions. Hell, Loki could make anything look pretty, as long it was his face and body involved. You almost took your words back, but once you started to watch those three little bubbles float onto your screen to indicate that Loki was texting back, you just went to quickly tap on the address he sent you earlier. Google Maps was just as fast to start replacing your texts seamlessly as it showed you the address on the screen. You hit the small start button once you were buckled up and had your phone on it’s small vent mount.
Traffic wasn’t as bad as it usually was as you followed the directions your phone told you to take, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it all seemed familiar. Most of these turns felt like muscle memory, and your brain was slowly placing pieces together.
It was like you were heading to Helen’s complex.
You snorted and shook your head at your thoughts, carefully taking a right turn before stopping at a red light. There’s no way Brunn could share a complex with Helen, is there? You would have ran into her way before this.
Turns out, no, you wouldn’t have. You haven’t. Because before you’re even told you’ve reached your destination from Google Maps, you’re taking a back road to lead into the parking lot of Helen, and apparently Brunn’s, apartment complex.
You can’t help but laugh a little out of shock as you ignore the voice from the app telling you to get back on course before it tells you it’s rerouting. Brunn and Helen. In the same complex. And you haven’t even met her until The Revengers stumbled into your job to eat.
What a small fucking world.
Once you’re parked in a visitor’s spot different than your usual one you pick out when you’re visiting Helen, you’re pulling your phone from your little mount, ending the Google Maps navigation interface and checking your messages. Loki’s sent you two more texts, one a few shocked emojis, and an actual reply of: “I’m always pretty, you’re LYING”
You chuckle at your screen, quickly sending an emoji with it’s tongue sticking out before replying with I’m here! Be up soon and promptly locking your phone again, carefully shifting in your seat to slide it into your leggings pocket. At the moment, you didn’t care to see the other notifications that were probably building up before you’re checking that you’ve gotten all of your things from your car you may need in your hands or hoodie’s pocket and exit your car. You lock it promptly before you’re making the trek into the building.
Brunn is, even more ironically, a floor below Helen. Helen was on the fourth floor, and Brunn was on the third. Less of a pain having to walk up the stairs, but still a pain nonetheless.
As you walked down the hall, quietly muttering Brunn’s room number under your breath, you played with your keys while following the slight loud muffled noise of music.
It’s now that Helen’s complaint from months ago hits you: Brunn was the one below her that threw some massive new year party and didn’t get in trouble for the noise complaints. That makes you laugh softly, the music growing louder progressively before you’re situated right in front of Brunn’s door.
“Helen’s gonna get a kick out of this when I tell her,” you mutter to yourself before shoving your keys into your hoodie pocket with your other things and knocking as hard as you can physically handle on the door so someone could hear it over the music. It didn’t take as long as you thought it would for the door to open once you stopped banging on it, and you didn’t realize how thankful you’d be for that.
You’re even more thankful for who’s actually opening the door.
It’s Brunn—which, you don’t know why you didn’t expect her to answer. It was her own apartment. You smile at her probably tipsy state as she places your face just outside her door. She says your name gently, almost like you’re not even there.
“Yeah,” you reply casually, waving with the hand that was knocking on the door. “Hi.”
“You’re….you came?”
You scrunched your face up in confusion. “Yeah? Loki invited me today when he came by—“
“Oh! Oh great!” Brunn cuts you off with a look of sheer excitement. “Come on in! I just didn’t expect to see you tonight!”
You scoffed dramatically, stepping past Brunn and the door, the song changing from the thumping bass to something a bit lighter. Maybe Helen will have a good night’s rest once she’s back from closing.
“I probably would have found my way here without Loki’s help thanks to that last song,” you joke. “I wanted to come and congratulate you all on the news anyway, may as well do it here, y’know?”
Brunn, who you’ve never seen actually get bashful or sheepish actually blushes and giggles. You chalk it up to her being intoxicated before she’s pulling you into a hug once she’s shut and locked her front door behind you. You let out a small laugh yourself and hug her back just as tight.
“Thank you. Really.”
“You’re welcome. Though, not sure why you’re thanking me,” you reply gently, resting your chin on her bare shoulder, just missing her tank top strap. “You picked me up along the way with your talent, just like everyone else.”
“I know, but—“
“Brunn!”
The two of you nearly flinch away from each other’s embrace due to the random voice calling her name. Brunn’s suddenly all but dragged off to a different direction by the person that was calling her out, giving you a wave. You made a little mental note to maybe try and find her later at this party, or maybe just ask her about tonight some other day.
Brunn’s apartment isn’t too packed, but as you looked around at all the people, it definitely was near capacity. It was comfortably full, but, remembering Loki’s text, you’re worried what may come later in the night. You elect that maybe it’s better to just not think about it, carefully maneuvering around people to try and find the kitchen for a drink of some kind that’s non-alcoholic. You’re not feeling up to that tonight.
Once you made it to what seemed like the middle of the apartment, you find the little breakfast bar cut out to the kitchen, and you feel washed with a huge wave of relief.
And just as you start walking towards the kitchen you ironically lock eyes with the very reason you’re here tonight, Loki.
It’s fairly obvious he was doing a sweep, looking for someone—more than likely you, which has your stomach in all kinds of knots for good and anxiety ridden reasons—and just so happened to fall right on the person he’d been searching for.
You’re smiling, if not grinning at the eye contact as you stop mid-step to the kitchen. It’s almost like one of those movie moments, where it’s like…a slow-mo montage. With a slow jam playing over it. And then the record scratches, of course, when someone stumbling out of the kitchen asks you kindly to move and you press yourself up against the edge of the wall that makes a small hall to lead into the kitchen.
Loki looks like he gives a small laugh before he turns to talk with his friend he’s been standing with, his head jutting your direction. You take this as your own cue to start heading into the kitchen, but still keeping an eye on Loki.
He needs to stop dressing so god damn well. He’s got his fucking leather jacket on over some skin tight shirt and his usual black jeans. How he makes something so simple look so good, you never seem to understand. You watch as he passes off his solo cup to his friend, still talking with them as he starts to shrug off his jacket.
It feels like something you shouldn’t be watching. The second you see bare skin past the black hem of the shirt is when you learn that it’s fucking worse than a tight fitting shirt. It’s a fucking tank top, and now his entire bare arms are on display for you and everyone else in this party to see.
If Loki turned around right now and saw you staring at his forearms, you may just die. But it would be worth it.
His friend nods his head back your way as he takes Loki’s jacket for him in exchange for his cup back as they seem to exchange final words. You stand from your position against the wall to prepare yourself to see him up close and personal.
Right as Loki turns around however, he’s speaking over his shoulder before he’s stumbling slightly as if he’s tripped on something.
You and his friend cackle in unison, across the room, all at the same guitarist. Loki whips around probably to chastise his friend for laughing at him, and that’s when you decide to properly end up in the kitchen. Loki would come when he’s done chewing his friend out and ready to properly talk with you, now that he knows you’re here.
Brunn’s kitchen is slightly bigger than your own, and you can’t help but be a bit jealous when you walk in. There’s a cliché sight of a couple that’s making out on the counter currently before they’re hearing you open the fridge as if you’ve existed in this apartment longer than they have, easily finding a 12 pack of Sprites in her fridge. Thankfully, if not mercifully, they evacuate the kitchen quickly after you finished rummaging around in the fridge to leave you be and possibly go take their session somewhere else. You give a small sigh of relief, and place your cold Sprite can down to go hunting around for grenadine near the alcohol.
You find half a bottle of grenadine near a bigger bottle of lime juice and other mixers before carefully reaching around the glass bottles of alcohol on the counter to grab a solo cup for yourself.
With all your drink ingredients, you set out to make the easiest non-alcoholic drink imaginable in Brunn’s kitchen: a Shirley Temple.
It’s a weird moment of loneliness you feel, cracking open your can and pouring your Sprite into the cup. You’re the only one in this kitchen for the time being and the music sounds as if it’s dully thumping outside of the room. Almost like you’re in the bathroom, trying to cool down in a club, but that’s just the atmosphere of Brunn’s apartment right now.
Weirdly enough, you enjoy it almost as much as Queen’s Pub on Saturdays. Once your Sprite can runs empty into your cup, you’re opening the grenadine. As you start to pour the grenadine, your mind pulls back to Loki from earlier. The way he shucked off his jacket. How he turned before tripping—
“Easy on the grenadine,” Loki says as he walks in, breaking the soft pouring noises into your cup. You almost do as he says, shocked how the man spooked you so easily, only stopping the grenadine just a few seconds after he speaks to you. “Brunn may beat you for using a bunch of that. Her Sunrises are her lifeline.”
You snort, putting the cap on the grenadine bottle. “I like my Shirley Temples with a little too much sweetness, sue me.”
Loki continues walking towards you, finally moving to rest against the counter with his cup in hand. The look on his face is fond, taking in your appearance. “She just might.”
“Oh no,” you reply, deadpan. “Not Brunn suing me over some cherry syrup I could buy her more of. However will I go on?”
There’s a beat between you and Loki as you both finally make eye contact with each other. It’s not too long before you’re both giggling between each other, and you’re putting the grenadine bottle back where you’d found it as well as grabbing a green plastic straw so you can stir your drink around to not get straight syrup.
“So,” Loki starts, coming down from your shared giggle fit after taking a sip from his newly empty cup, “a Shirley Temple? You’re not drinking tonight?”
You shake your head, sipping your drink and very pleased with the results. “Nah, got to drive myself home, and I don’t really feel up to it tonight anyways. Even if it was a long day at work.”
Loki nods in understanding, pushing from the counter and placing his cup down as he carries his conversation with you to the fridge. “I get that.”
“What’re you drinking?” you ask, raising a brow and trying not to look at his ass in his tight jeans while he bends over to dig around in Brunn’s fridge. “One of those cocktails from a can?”
“Nope,” Loki chirps from the cold interior of Brunn’s fridge, pulling out finally after a moment with a green can. “Been indulging with Ginger Ale tonight.”
You scrunch your face up. “Ginger Ale?”
“Yeah,” Loki responds, easily cracking open the can to pour it into the cup just as you did with your Sprite. “What of it? You look disgusted.”
“Because I am.”
“For why? It’s basically your Sprite with some Coke splashed in.”
“That’s why,” you huff in reply, trying not to laugh again at how defensive Loki is currently over Ginger Ale as you sip at your drink. “As someone who does that frequently, I’d rather gag.”
Loki makes a small clicking noise with his tongue as he finishes off the last of the soda that’s in his can before his solo cup overflows, shaking his head almost as if he disapproves of your words.
“Your words cut deep, sweetheart,” Loki quips leaning against the counter, a little closer to you than before. “Anyway, how was the ride over? Didn’t get lost, did you?”
You snort, shaking your head as you begin to mirror Loki by leaning against the counter, too. “No. Actually, I already knew how to get here.”
“Oh?” Loki raises a brow in curiosity. “Really?”
“Yeah, Helen lives in this complex too, ironically enough.” You go in for another sip, watching Loki’s eyes widen in realization.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope,” you pop the “p”, trying not to laugh at how cliché you sound. “I wish I was. Helen was pissed about that New Years party, by the way.”
Loki finds himself chuckling a bit. “Yeah, that one was a little too crazy, even for myself. I hope she’ll never figure out it was Brunn, she may have both our asses then.”
“She’s over it now, but if tonight gets loud, she may just murder all of us.”
“Does she know you’re here?” Loki questions, a small glint in his eye. “Like, here in the complex.”
“Uh,” you start, free hand finding your straw you’re toying with as you swirl your drink. “No. Unless she sees my car when she gets off shift. I did tell her I was coming to the party though.”
Loki nods and brings his cup up for a drink. You pull your eyes away from Loki as he takes his sip, you fear you may actually do more than just stare at the way he swallows, the tank top leaves too much of his neck exposed for your liking.
“She was the one who told me about your note, actually. She found me mid-rush to tell me,” you ramble out, taking interest in the pleasing sizzle your drink gives as you stamp the cup down against the countertop you’re both leaning on. Loki goes on to let out an interested hum.
“Did she—“
“She didn’t read, it, no,” you carry on immediately, laughing out of the sudden rise of nerves you’re starting to feel. “At least, I don’t think? She does know I’m the only one in the waitstaff that has a green pen. She said she saw that.”
Loki chuckles at that, smiling as he shakes his head. “I don’t really give a damn if she read it or not, as long as it got to you, that’s all I cared about.”
You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks at Loki’s words in that damn tone he’s speaking in, as well as his smile and nod back, your smile hopefully just as cute as his.
“How was work after I left, though? It looked like hell just sitting there,” Loki quipped, the two of you chuckling a little.
“It was hell, you’re right.” You bring your cup up to take a sip through your straw, and Loki’s almost quick to make you choke.
“Did you miss me after I left, then?”
He’s fucking cheeky looking as he says it, and it makes you want to kiss the little smirk off his damn face—which is a thought that equally excites you and terrifies you all at once. After you take a moment to swallow and breathe from your sudden inhale, as well as your thoughts directed at kissing him and Loki just being Loki before choking on Sprite and grenadine, you clear your throat.
“Absolutely not—“
“Make way, love birds!” Some random guy shouts as he storms into the kitchen with purpose. Unfortunately, you and Loki are somewhat close to where the man needs to have access to, and thus his sudden shouting makes Loki wrap an arm around your waist protectively before guiding you a bit further down the line of the counters as the two of you are just floundering for a proper reply.
Loki doesn’t have a fair judgement of just how out of counter space the two of you are until you squeak when your lower back presses into the corner of the counter near the stove, crowded in by Loki’s tall frame.
It’s now you feel so little in Loki’s arm, your drink still a safe distance away to where you can sip at the straw still, but Loki’s whole chest is just as far away, if not closer. You can faintly smell the cologne he’s wearing as he replies to the man rooting around the fridge for something he’s not finding, your eyes unable to stay away from how his neck is straining as he glares at him over his shoulder.
You’re focusing enough on Loki’s chest to watch the rise and fall of it as he speaks, and even make out the faintest outline of his pecs, maybe an ab or two. This leads your mind to that deep, dark little crevice of your brain from the one time you’d had a far too sexual dream about him. You wished you didn’t have your mind fly that deep and so fast into the gutter that was your damned attraction to Loki—who’s still trying to coach this probably drunk man in the kitchen to get a fucking drink and get out.
You only realize you’re moving out of the kitchen when Loki’s calloused fingers dig into your hoodie, his huff fully pulling you from your train of thoughts. You’re shocked you’re not stumbling along like a rag doll as you’re trying to piece together where you and Loki are even going.
“Are you alright?” Loki speaks suddenly, gently tugging you around a corner to another main hallway before stationing the two of you against the wall next to an antique hall table. You can’t help the air that huffs out of you when your back connects with the wall, Loki’s arm resting next to your head, just above your shoulder.
“Uh, y-yeah, fine.”
“I’m sorry for cornering you like that,” he sighs, head bowing down to look at you somewhat properly. “I’d rather not deal with some drunkard that I don’t know through Brunn.”
“Yeah, no, totally get it.” You’re shocked you’re even speaking right now, with how Loki’s still towering over you, eyes locked on your own as the both of you calm your breathing from the sudden movement from the kitchen to here, in the hall.
Loki nods, breathing out a soft okay before he’s realizing just how close he is to you and backing off slightly, almost awkwardly before he’s clearing his throat, both hands moving to cup at his solo cup before speaking aloud.
“So. How is Helen doing?”
You should have seen that coming. As well as the other awkward conversation topics to follow. The two of you always have a flowing conversation at Queen’s Pub, but that may just be because Loki’s in his element and you have billions of questions about everything.
However, as the two of you converse about anything painfully, personally cringing at yourself internally every second as you ramble on about Helen, or your newest random hobby you’re trying to pick up to avoid the burnout of working in the restaurant industry, you realize that you’d kill to be at Queen’s Pub. You’d rather Loki rambling about the lighting rigs Brian taught him how to install with Roger. Have one of Brian’s fruity concoctions in hand. Hear all of the cool experiences he and the band have had up to this point—not have to dig up more and more horrifically painful topics to bore him with.
Yeah, you realize, you’ve got nothing to talk about.
“But, uh, yeah,” you stutter slightly, looking down into your cup to mix around your ice that’s melded with the now flat soda and grenadine. “How, um, how was your day?”
Loki seemed like he was hanging on to every word you were saying, though. Kindly enough. “My day? It was. Well..”
You can’t help but laugh lightly at the stress of how awkward this talking period is currently, and Loki seemed to agree and joined you with a light chuckle.
“Sorry. It was good. After seeing you I just cleaned. Watched a few shows.” Loki stops and leans over to place his newly empty cup on the hall table you’re close to before laughing and speaking again. “Christ I promise I’m more entertaining than I lead on—“
“Oh, do tell,” you tease gently, looking up from your cup with a small smirk.
And luckily, Loki does. It gets easier through the night. Any questions either of you had about what you spoke about actually started to properly stem into actual conversations about what the two of you do outside of how you met each other. You tell Loki about your successful hobbies, he tells you all about his part-time job that he’s still got under his belt in case this tour falls out and TR ends up not being too big of a hit as you all expect them to be—and suddenly, it’s like any awkwardness vanished. All from a little quip and a smirk.
It’s good. Not to say that it wasn’t good before. But the conversation still flows unlike earlier when the two of you had a bit of a lull in picking a topic.
Now, you’re here, drunk on Loki as he finishes telling you a story about how he, Thor, and his sister tried to put on a play for his family when they were kids. You never want to leave his sight, or this party, just to pull more stories like this from him.
“There is no way your sister got you both into dresses that easy,” you giggle into your hand, placing your finally empty cup on the hallway table the two of you were still stationed next to. Loki’s made himself comfortable again after all of the awkwardness now, arm back next to your head and over your shoulder as you lean comfortably against the wall. Part of you wants to rest your head on his wrist and forearm, just to see if his bare arm would flex any more than it has in the past however long you’ve been standing here—
“She did! She absolutely did. I’ll ask her to text me the pictures or take them myself next time I’m at my parents and send them to you. Red is my true color, I think.”
You squint playfully up at the man before you, a fond smile creeping onto your face. “Nah. Green suits you. Green and black.”
“Really?” Loki hums in question. “Is this from my nail polish choices or the fact that you’ve never seen me in any other colors?”
You gasp at that, a hand pressing over the middle of your chest from Loki’s words—he may be right, but you’re having too much fun being just as dramatic as him.
“Excuse you, Mr. Odinson.”
“Excuse me? For what?” Loki asks fondly, arm shifting next to your head slightly before you finally break away from your thoughts that were holding you back to rest your head against his forearm.
You were right, his arm did flex at that. And you’re glad you’re holding your sudden reaction back from how you can see his arm slightly bulging to support your weight.
“I’ve seen you in other colors,” you sigh gently, as if you’re not affected by resting your head on his arm. “There’s so many different shades of green and black. They’re just not called green and black.”
“Oh my god,” Loki groans dramatically, rolling his eyes playfully. “I should let your head fall right now.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Your bright, teasing eyes meet Loki’s who’s equally just as teasing as he smirks at you.
“Try me.”
You squint your eyes slightly, still holding his gaze as Loki gives you a soft chuckle. You’re expecting him to say something again since he’s still staring into your eyes. But, as you move your head from his arm to stop your neck from cramping, you realize you’re basically having a small staring contest.
And your heart is already going into overtime, ramming into your chest every few seconds as you notice just how close you are to Loki. You’ve been close to him like this all night, and now you’re really feeling the aftereffects of the proximity.
Loki’s inched a bit closer to your face at this point, his hand shifting to have his forearm lean against the wall now to support his body weight. You hear him take a deep, shaky breath before his breath is fanning over your face.
“Can…can I try something?”
“Y-Yeah,” you breathe quietly in reply. “Go for it.”
If anything, your heart is speeding up even further. You’re not sure that’s entirely possible, but you’re not asking any questions as you watch Loki lean in closer and closer to you.
You’re about to have your first proper kiss with Loki Odinson. That on the rise rockstar you met months ago at your waitressing job. And you couldn’t be more excited for it. Part of you is suddenly curious if you’ll actually be a good kisser. There’s not much experience you’ve had in that regard, and you’re hoping Loki won’t mind it.
And if any of your nerves are showing, Loki doesn’t seem to notice it as he leans in the rest of the way, head tilting to the side to let his face slot into your own personally and press his lips to your own.
After a few seconds, you were confused when Loki just pulled away almost immediately after leaning his lips on yours. His lips were on yours for a small, small amount of time.You didn’t even have enough time to get your eyes closed properly.
It was more so of a peck, you realize.
Loki seemed shocked with his own actions, and scanned your face to see if what he’d done was okay. You didn’t really let him say anything to you in response and pulled him back in to slot your lips together once more.
You didn’t want to admit it aloud, but you had no idea what to do after this. You’ve never kissed anyone properly, ever. So you wouldn’t know jack shit what to do. Thankfully, Loki’s large hands ended up landing on either side of your face to start kissing you in what you assumed was the correct way, lips moving and somewhat guiding your own as he gripped your face gently as if it were a piece of glass.
You admittedly got lost in the kiss, not getting enough of Loki’s lips slotting against yours. You shuffled as close to him as you physically could, hands resting on his chest and gripping at the fabric of his tank top. And you could just about faint as you felt his small chuckle against your lips as he turned his head to deepen the kiss.
It felt just like it looked in some romantic movie you’ve seen—soft, loving, and all-consuming. Which, you didn’t expect out of a first kiss, but were you complaining?
Absolutely not.
The only time you did complain was having to pull away, softly gasping for air just as Loki did, hands still pressed into your now warm cheeks.
Your eyes—you don’t really recall when you closed them like you thought you would, honestly, you were probably that taken up in the kiss—are staring right into Loki’s blue ones again. You’re both panting lightly, and when you start giggling from all the butterflies in your tummy just erupting, Loki starts giggling with you, too.
“Is there something wrong?” Loki asked gently, his giggles fading a lot faster than your own, “besides, well, the obvious, y’know..”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down before finally speaking.
“‘S nothing,” you say, shaking your head slightly as you let go of Loki’s tank to slide your hands down his abdomen slowly and rest on his sides. “It’s just...that was my first kiss.”
It’s that response that makes Loki freeze, and you’re suddenly filled with dread. You don’t know what the reply is for most people when they say that, and frankly, if this was about to be a whole joke to make fun of you, you’re prepared to walk back out to your car and go home to cry in a pint of edible cookie dough.
You watch Loki’s tongue flick out to run over his lips—lips that just willingly pressed against yours—quickly, swallowing before speaking.
“Really?”
“Yes,” you finally breathe with a nod, “really.”
It’s painful, waiting for Loki’s reply. Your brain is conjuring so many what if scenarios that you’re not all ready for what he could actually say.
“Well,” he finally breathes, his hands starting to pull away from your cheeks to find a spot on your waist. “If you don’t mind, my kiss quota for the evening is, unfortunately, needing to be filled—”
You’re back to giggling again, your dread moving far away just as fast as it came, the two of you leaning forwards before your foreheads gently bump together. The tip of Loki’s nose nudges against your own as he speaks, lips brushing yours.
“—care to help fix that?”
“Absolutely,” you mutter back happily before closing your eyes and reconnecting your lips.
After that, you and Loki really just spent the rest of your night chatting, or kissing. You’re both very giggly. You’re extremely happy to say it’s not from the alcohol either as the two of you navigate around the steady group of people in the living room to get back to the kitchen after a few more kisses and conversations shared to get refills.
You never really recall finding a party this enjoyable until Loki came into the mix. Honestly, you’d like to keep it that way for as long as the universe allows you to have it.
It’s around midnight when you finally move to tap out of the event. Brunn still has the party going steadily, you think you even heard someone shout for a round of body shots—to which you and Loki happily declined in favor for more hushed conversation and kisses near the hall table to be hidden from all the drunk, hazy eyes.
“I’ll walk you out,” Loki says immediately, stacking your newly empty cup with your own before you’re being guided by a hand on your lower back to the kitchen. “Just gotta grab my jacket.”
All you can do is smile and nod. You haven’t had the need to take off your hoodie, weirdly enough. At some point you thought you may need to—that’s the whole reason why you wore a shirt under it, after all, as well as the leggings with pockets on the sides so you could hold the important little things inside the hoodie pocket—but the most you’ve done is pull the sleeves up to your elbows.
Loki leaves you once you’re both about to pass the kitchen, so you take it upon yourself to head to the door while he tosses your cups out. As you head that way, you’re sure to dodge all the people crowding around Brunn as she does a body shot off of another woman. There’s…a lot of cheering happening, and it makes you worry for Helen who has the opening shift tomorrow.
But you also can’t help yourself by watching how Brunn licks up the salt on the other girl’s skin.
You’re quick to distract yourself back to the task at hand: Loki’s jacket. Pulling yourself from the crowd where you could see Brunn finish taking the shot, you find what looks like Loki’s jacket in a heap with the rest of the jackets various people have brought in.
Just as you get closer to the jacket pile, you feel a hand land back on your lower back and flinch immediately. You turn around, preparing to chew whoever the fuck it is out, but end up seeing Loki’s face, which is just as startled.
“Sorry!” He shouts over the sudden burst of cheers from the middle of the living room. “Should have warned you, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe a little,” you sass back, leaning back into his touch as you both reach the jackets. “Top one yours?”
“Should be.” Loki reaches around you—your eyes fall to his arms, of course, you’re suspecting that may be some sort of kink if that’s even possible—and feels the jacket before nodding. “Yeah, it’s mine.”
“How can you tell it’s yours by feeling it?” You question suddenly, hopefully your amusement being heard over the hum of people.
“No one else here has a real leather jacket,” Loki laughs in reply, following you as you turn to open the door and lead the two of you out into the thankfully quiet hallway. “At least, I think most of those people in there have common sense not to wear one to a party of Brunn’s.”
The both of you turn into the direction of the stairwell as you snort. “So you’re saying you don’t have common sense then?”
“Well, not tonight no,” Loki decides aloud. “I was trying to impress a certain someone.”
You could feel your face heating up from his confession, noticing his hand was off of your lower back so he could pull his jacket back on. You feel a small pang of sadness, no longer being allowed access to ogling Loki’s well toned arms from who recalls how long of lifting amps for gigs.
“Oh, really?” You’re trying to be coy, but all you’ve done tonight is kiss him and be held by him and honestly, you really should just be bold. Guys like that, don’t they?
Loki glances at you as you make it to the stairwell door at the end of the hall, you can make out his little smirk and swear you see a wink. “Yeah, really.”
It’s at that point you realize you don’t really want to go back to your apartment and lose Loki’s company for the night. You’re not quite sure what the two of you really…are. After finally kissing, you’re not quite sure what happens at this point. Are you casual? Is it considered a relationship now?
Towards the end of your descent back to the parking lot with him, you realize you’d be down for just about anything he offers, if Loki does offer anything. The conversations you share are just as fun as they were in the party, your hand is intertwined tightly with his as you take one step at a time to make the night last longer.
You’re sure it’ll be about one in the morning by the time you’re in your car to drive away, and you don’t really give a damn.
“Helen is going to text me later in the morning and complain about the noise, I bet,” you say as Loki opens the door for you to head out into the cool morning. You notice as you carefully step outside, pulling Loki with you, that the moon’s out and extremely bright. If there wasn’t lamps and light pollution being a thing, you may just be blinded.
“I don’t doubt it in the slightest, if I’m honest,” he replies, hand briefly tightening around yours. “She can’t murder who she doesn’t know, can she?”
“That might just be a super power of hers,” you joke, now officially taking the lead as you follow the sidewalks that lead you to where your car is. “She can be evil when she wants.”
Loki chuckles, and you can see him shaking his head out of the corner of your eye before you’re turning to walk backwards, slowing down your steps so you don’t trip. Loki’s quick to catch on and his free hand lands on your waist so he can guide you.
“Careful, sweetheart.”
You pout, even though all you want to do is squeal over how Loki sounds so taken by you in this moment. He’s been speaking like this all night, with that same fond look in his eye. You never want to leave his sight if that’s how he’ll be looking at you.
“I am! I’ve done this drunk, I can do it sober.”
“Would love to see that,” Loki snorts, fingertips digging into the fabric of your hoodie. “Same car still?”
“Duh,” you huff.
Loki doesn’t reply or say anything, and neither do you. Your eyes alternate from your feet to Loki, and that makes you both giggle.
“You’ll text me when you get home, yeah?” Loki asks suddenly, his hands tugging you closer to him probably to make you stop walking. “Or, you could call me—“
“Loki!” You cut him off immediately, letting yourself get pulled in all the way to where you’re face to face with his chest again. “Chill. I’ll text you, okay? I’m sleepy.”
“Could call me on your way home? So you don’t fall asleep?” Loki’s voice is bordering on pouty, soft around the edges but could definitely end up whining if necessary. You tilt your head up to actually see his face that’s illuminated by the street lamps, a small pout on his lips.
You giggle and stretch up to press a small kiss to his bottom lip. “Cool it, rockstar. I’ll be fine. No need to get all pouty on me again.”
“This is the perfect time to be pouty, excuse you,” Loki quips, quick to capture your lips in a proper kiss for a moment, then pressing your foreheads together before you could really get into the groove of it. “But fine. I’ll stop on your behalf.”
Your smile could make your face ache for the rest of the night from how wide it is, but you don’t care. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you,” Loki replies, his smile just as wide.
You’re both stalling. You sense it, Loki can probably sense it, and you’re trying not to care. You pull your head away to properly see his face as you speak.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Besides that? Yes—ow, hey!”
The both of you laugh at his reaction to your free hand smacking his stomach. “That’s rude!”
“You’re rude!” You tease back, still laughing before you take a breath to speak through your giggles. “What are we? Or, what’s this, I guess.”
Loki’s taking a breath, getting the last of his giggles out unlike you before he’s speaking slowly, and choosing his words carefully.
“Well, if you’ll have me, I’d like to be your boyfriend.”
Thankfully, you’re silent by the time he finishes his sentence, and you shudder at his tone. There’s no hints of teasing you at all, and he’s so sure of himself as he continues to hold you so gently.
You’re speechless for a few good seconds, but Loki can already tell you’re going to say yes probably from your face alone.
“I’d love to have you be my boyfriend, yeah,” you reply. It feels a bit awkward and clumsy to reply that way, but it feels…right. Honestly anything you say to Loki feels like it’s right since earlier tonight in Brunn’s apartment.
Loki’s just watching you like you’ve painted the moon and hung up the stars personally for him before his hands are pulling away from your own hand and your waist to cup either side of your face in his palms.
“May I kiss my girlfriend?”
You try to hold back your grin, knowing that Loki’s probably not going to be particularly keen on wanting to kiss your teeth and give a tiny nod. “Absolutely.”
The kiss isn’t really all that different from all the ones you’ve been sharing over the course of the night, but you lean into it with a smile regardless. Kissing Loki would become a new favorite past time fast if the two of you kept up with it. Now that you’re official, that is.
That’s when a question pops into your head.
“Wait,” you start, pulling away from Loki’s lips to speak. “Should…who should we tell? Should we wait, or?”
Loki’s still recovering from the bliss of kissing it seems, his face still contoured as if your lips were still on his. After a moment he registers what you say and takes a slow breath in.
“I think,” Loki says after a brief period of silence—the thought of stunning Loki with your kiss flashes across your mind, and you feel like cackling. You’re so inexperienced before tonight, you’d never think that would happen because of you. “I think we should wait, for sure. And it’s not because I want to hide what we have or anything, but with the tour going on, I want to be sure this is something you want.”
“Why wouldn’t it be something I want, Loki?”
“Darling, if The Revengers gain popularity to do more than just a small local headlining tour around the area, you won’t see me as often,” Loki explains, his face looking pained. “Life of a rockstar isn’t very kind to relationships..”
You take a deep breath and release it in a sigh, leaning more into Loki’s hands that are still holding your face. “I want this. I want to be your girlfriend—I have for the last four months—I want to give us a go, Loki. It’s not like we don’t have smartphones for video calls or anything.”
“I know that, sweetheart, but what I’m saying is it’ll be months before I’m ever back to you if we take off how we expect to. It may get hard—“
“Then I’m all for it!” You huff softly, not meaning to raise your voice before gently pulling your face from Loki’s hands. “I know you’re doing this to save both of us from a broken heart, Loki, but really, I want to try. I’ve been set on you for a while now, I think we can make it work.”
Loki doesn’t look as startled as you do, and maybe that’s a good thing. His smile is returning from your words it seems, but you’re slightly worried he’s going to take back everything he’s said or asked of you tonight—and being Loki’s girlfriend is something you’re absolutely inclined to be.
“Okay,” he finally replies, letting your brain cease running around your skull like crazy. “We can make it work. But if you want to back out—“
“If I were an idiot, I would,” you cut him off completely. “But, if—and it’s a hard if, by the way—I want to quit, then I will tell you. I can communicate, I’m an adult.”
You’re sure your words get through to Loki then, his hands grabbing your own and squeezing them tightly, giving you a reassuring smile. “Okay, okay, no need to go growling at me—“
You don’t hold back your snort, squeezing his hands back. “I’m going to. Now that I’ve got a taste of you? Kissing you, at that? I’m not giving that up, baby.”
It’s….nice. Getting to call someone—Loki, in particular—baby. You’re excited to try all the other terms of endearment you’ve seen tossed around by couples you’ve been surrounded by both online and in person.
Loki seems to agree. You notice how his cheeks seem a little more rosy than just a few minutes ago.
“Likewise, babe.”
You and Loki hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds before laughing together.
“That sounded weird, coming from you—“
“I thought I’d give it a try!” Loki exclaims gently, leaning forward to peck your forehead. “I’ll stick with sweetheart and work my way into new ones. How’s that sounding, babydoll?”
“Better,” you hum, a small shudder moving through you slightly. “Call me that one a bit, sounded nice.”
“Can absolutely be done,” Loki affirms. “Now. I believe one of us was heading home for the night. And I’d like for you to sleep before you do whatever you have planned tomorrow. Unless it’s work and you’re lying to me, again.”
“I do have tomorrow off!” You exclaim, pouting as you let your head crane back to look at Loki again. “I’m not a liar. You’re being mean.”
Loki grins and lets one of his hands drop yours to wrap an arm around your shoulders to pull you in close to him, chuckling. “I am, I am, sorry sweetheart. You’re cute when you pout, if it helps.”
“Maybe it does.” You huff dramatically, letting yourself mold into Loki’s front. “I should probably get home though, seriously. It’s probably close to one. I wanted to get laundry done.”
“Sounds like a lot,” Loki commiserates with you, his chin bumping against the top of your head gently. “Terrible. Truly.”
“You just don’t want to let me go so you end up going home to your place and end up sleeping before more tour rehearsal,” you scoff, letting your head slowly tilt up again. “I’ll call you while I do my laundry tomorrow?”
Loki doesn’t hesitate to look back down at you then. “Please? I don’t have rehearsal until six. I’ll be bored. Missing you, probably—“
“Oh please,” you giggle, leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. “You’re so dramatic.”
“It’s true! I’ll miss you the second you get in your car!” Loki whines. “You’re the mean one. That’s it. It’s decided.”
You laugh, Loki pouts. It’s a small cycle that the two of you continue doing before you’re starting to actually yawn into Loki’s tank top. Then, he’s ushering you into your car with a stern tone.
“Y’know, if I didn’t work earlier today I would be fine,” you reply, finally inside your car completely now, actually buckled up with your window rolled down to keep talking with Loki.
His arms are crossed over the top of the window as he speaks to you. “I know. All the more reason you should sleep and I can be greedy and pester you to spend all your time with me tomorrow.”
You laugh at that, your face heating up. Now that you’re both official, Loki’s not holding back, it seems.
“Fine. I’ll text you when I’m home, okay? Text me when you get to yours.”
“Yes ma’am,” Loki replies, a smile accompanying a little salute before he’s standing up straight from your window. “Maybe we could actually grab lunch tomorrow or something? If you’re awake?”
You want to say something about your laundry, you do really need to get that done, but honestly, you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“Sure! We can aim for it.”
Goodbyes won’t be either of your strong suits, you assume. By the fact you’re still in this parking lot, just observing Loki with all his nervous giddy energy that reminds you of him before performing on Saturdays on the pavement next to your car, you’re just sleepily gushing behind the wheel in your brain while you stare at him.
Loki’s pulling you out of that small cloud you’re up in, leaning through your window to press a final kiss to your lips. “Home. Home for you, sweetheart. Get there in one piece. Goodnight.”
You sigh reluctantly in your car, Loki pulling away and stepping away from you in your car to the sidewalk so you don’t keep sidetracking any longer.
“Fine, goodnight!” You shout from your window, Loki laughing and waving to you and shouting the phrase back again before you’re finally rolling up your window. You put the car in reverse and start backing out, giving Loki one last wave while you still can before both hands are on the steering wheel and you’re exiting the parking lot.
You barely pay attention to the radio as you turn out from the way you came in just hours ago—hours. God, you really expected to leave sooner than this, but Loki really held you up. You couldn’t find it in yourself to mind at all.
It’s then you actually realize what’s playing on the radio. Queen’s Somebody To Love. It’s probably in the middle-end of the song, but it makes you smile wide nonetheless as you stop at the stop light that leads you onto the main road.
Yeah, you’ll have to stop by The Queen’s Pub and thank Brian for keeping you all those nights with his stories so you could talk with Loki whenever he was there sometime, whenever you and Loki figure out when you’d like to tell everyone.
#loki x reader#guitarist!loki x reader#ofr: trht — g!l au#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson imagine#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson imagine#loki odinson x you#loki laufeyson x you#loki odinson fluff#loki laufeyson fluff#marvel writer#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader
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