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outofconcheol · 4 months

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friends forever? (lmh x f!reader)

pairing: Minho x reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst if you squint, brief smut, established relationship, 18+

summary: Minho has the difficult task of wooing someone very important to you.

warnings: CATS, a very confused Minho, swearing, mentions breakups, mentions periods, just lots of feels ok, smut warnings: brief oral (f receiving), kissing

word count: 1.9k

a/n: Where are all my cat people at? this idea came to me today and it was so cute i almost passed out (jk I did actually pass out today). i really said enough of Minho wooing reader, i want to see this man woo a cat and i made it happen! Also Lulu is one of my nicknames for my cat (but he's a boy). this is very unedited, I wrote it in like an hour but I hope you enjoy!

It’s past midnight when Minho notices the eyes for the first time. They peer at him from the endless darkness of the hallway and he looks around nervously, wondering if he should say something. In the corner of his eye, he can see you rustling around in the kitchen, cabinets opening and closing as you try to find some snacks for the both of you. If there’s an intruder in your apartment, you don’t seem perturbed, humming quietly to yourself.

He wonders if this is some kind of test from the universe, if some evil spirit’s been sent down so that he, as your newly-minted boyfriend, can prove that he’s brave and worthy of protecting you. But before he can whip out his ghost-busting skills, your sock-clad feet are padding towards him on the couch, a surprised gasp leaving your lips.

“Oh! I see you’ve met Lulu.”

Minho blinks once, twice, before following the sound of your voice, looking down over the edge of the couch.

Those same eyes from the hallway blink up at him. It’s a cat. Your cat, fluffy fur and all, looking at Minho through narrowed eyes.

Immediately, he softens, silently relieved that he wouldn’t have to slay any demons tonight. Minho loved cats. He had three of his own waiting at home. He slides off the couch, dropping to his knees, extending an arm out.

“Hi there Lulu, I’m Minho. Nice to meet you.”

Lulu cocks her head, taking a few seconds to look Minho over, assessing him from head to toe. And then she… remains completely still, refusing to budge and accept the offer to smell Minho’s hand. Minho feels his heart drop, arm still outstretched with the hope that she’ll change her mind, but to no avail.

“Babe,” Minho zips his head in your direction, and you offer him a comforting squeeze to his arm. “Lulu takes a while to warm up to new people, it’s nothing personal. She never liked any of my exes.”

You giggle, pulling Minho back onto the couch with you so he can rest his head in your lap while you start the movie. Minho tries to focus on the film, but his mind remains elsewhere, darting over to the side where he sees Lulu sitting next to the couch. Eventually, she jumps up onto the cushions to join you, snuggling into your side, but maintaining a safe distance from Minho.

Minho resists the urge to overthink the interaction from earlier. He knew better than anyone that cats were temperamental beings, and that they required extra love and attention. So what if Lulu never warmed up to any of your exes? She’d warm up to him eventually, because he planned on sticking around for a long time.

If you asked Minho the key to winning a cat’s heart, he’d tell you time. And maybe lots of treats. But mostly time. He thought time would be enough to heal the frosty first impression he’d left on Lulu, but every time he was over at your place, there she was around the corner, mean-mugging and making him feel guilty for crimes he didn’t commit.

He didn’t want to worry you with his silly beef with your cat, knowing that you loved her and she’d helped you through many hard times.

So Minho, being the amazing boyfriend he was, tried to tackle the problem on his own.

He started with treats of course. The sizeable dent in his wallet from owning three cats only became all the more palpable when he’d buy an extra box from the pet store every week, hoping to woo over Miss Lulu with the five-star meal of some pureed chicken in a tube.

Lulu stared down the tube like it was a foreign object, before slapping her fluffy tail against Minho’s face, turning on her heels, and walking away.

She had the same reaction to the freeze-dried treats he tried the week after.

Then he theorized that maybe Lulu was averse to the smell of his own cats on him. So Minho kept an extra pair of clothes in his car all the time, one he’d change into before coming over. When he knocked at the door, he was met with your dazzling smile, cupping his face to press your lips to his, but as soon as it was over he caught sight of Princess Lulu running down the hallway away from him.

Months passed with Minho doing everything he could wrap his mind around what he could do win over the second most important person in your life (after him, of course). He’d even powered through a tense meeting between Lulu and Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, worried that his sons would scare her away, or even worse, hurt her, and that would be the end of you and Minho. But much to his surprise, Lulu played happily with the boys, even letting Dori tackle her and lick her fur.

And so began Minho’s mutual grudge against your cat. He did his best to hide it, but the lack of acceptance from Lulu was getting to him, like an arrow through his heart. He wondered if he could survive years by your side with a cat that hated him, but one look at your sparkly eyes and pretty smile told him that yes, this was worth it. You were worth it.

So Lulu ignored Minho. And Minho ignored Lulu. And both of them continued on in their own little worlds, centered around you.

Minho slams his lips against yours, pushing you up against the door of your bedroom, smirking when he feels your lips part in a soft moan. The two of you make out lazily against the door for a few moments, until you’re both breathless and panting, Minho stepping back to admire the handiwork he’d left on your neck, the angry marks disappearing underneath the neckline of your shirt.

Minho runs his thumb over your lip, watching your eyes go dark with desire, and in no time at all, you’re pinned underneath him on the bed, legs dangling with Minho in between them. He wastes no time diving in, eating you out with fervor until you’re writhing against his face, a wave of pleasure building inside you.

Only for it all to come crashing down seconds later, when he suddenly stops. You let out a pathetic whine, running your fingers through Minho’s hair while he remains crouched in between your thighs.

“Min, baby what’s wrong?” you lift his chin up so he’s looking at you, and the look in his eyes is so starkly different from a few minutes ago, his face pale.

“She’s watching us,” he whispers, like he’s seen a ghost.

You follow his line of sight to the top of the dresser, where Lulu is now perched, tail tucked underneath her butt, eyes narrowing at you and Minho.

“Just ignore her, babe,” you nudge his head between your legs again. Minho gives a few tentative licks to your folds, but lets out a heavy sigh, sitting back on his knees.

“I can’t.” And he looks so unbelievably guilty it makes your heart melt. You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, before throwing on his discarded shirt, softly padding over to where Lulu rests.

“Hey pretty girl,” you coo at her, cradling her in your arms. “How about we go drink some water, huh?”

Minho sits on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and head in his hands. He doesn’t hear you come back inside, jumping slightly when you throw your arms around him, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“She doesn’t hate you,” your voice is muffled, nuzzling your nose against his jaw.

“She does,” Minho whines, trying not to let his voice break. “She literally won’t accept any treats from me. Every time you have period cramps, she glares at me like she’s saying “It’s your fault, asshole.” She even plays with Changbin more than me. And he’s allergic! She hates me and you’re going to break up with me because I can’t get along with your cat.”

“Why would I break up with you, silly?” you giggle. “I love you.”

Minho grabs you by the shoulders, cupping your cheeks in his hands, shock on his face.

“Y-you do?”

You nod your head, reaching up to grab his hand with your own.

“I love you, Lee Minho. And Lulu too. My heart is big enough for both of you.”

Minho feels better after that night, his anxieties melting away, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can survive this impasse with Lulu.

Until you ask him to do the unthinkable.

“Please Minho? It’s just for one night.” you beg him. Something urgent had come up for work, and you needed to take an overnight trip to handle it. Which meant Minho had to stay home with Lulu.

Minho wants to protest, saying the little brat will be fine, but then you pout. And it’s game over. He’s agreeing before he can think it through.

So you leave, the door clicking behind you, and Minho sits on the couch, Lulu across the room from him, the two of them staring each other down much like the first time they’d met. He takes meticulous care to fill up her food bowl and clean out her litter box, his heart doing a flutter when she doesn’t refuse either.

But she remains at her safe distance, and Minho is alone on the couch, missing the warmth of your presence next to him. He clicks through a few tv channels, before turning the TV off, throwing his hoodie on and slipping out onto your balcony, making sure to leave the door slightly ajar in case something happened to Lulu.

He sits with his knees curled to his chest, watching the city lights twinkle, until he hears a soft whine. He turns to see Lulu across from him on the balcony, maintaining her healthy distance, but staring at him with curious eyes.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Lulu, you know that?” Minho blurts out. “I just wish you’d like me, kiddo. I try so hard for you. And for your mom.”

He leans back against the railing, letting out a heavy sigh, and the words keep pouring out.

“I love her a lot. Like a lot a lot. I think I’m probably gonna marry her someday. And then we’ll be stuck together whether you like it or not.”

Minho closes his eyes, wondering what the future would hold for the two of them, when he feels it. The soft brush of fur against his leg, and then tiny vibrations.

He blinks his eyes open, and Lulu is nestled against his leg, soft purrs coming from her as she burrows her nose into Minho’s sweaptants.

Tears prick at the corner of Minho’s lids as he fights every bone in his body not to jump for joy. He reaches over, softly stroking Lulu between her ears, and chuckles when her tiny mouth drops open.

“Of course. The only thing you love more than attention is ____. I should have known.”

He stays impossibly still, battling against the ache in his leg, his eyes growing heavy with sleep.

That’s how you find him in the morning, still cuddled up to Lulu. You smile softly, grabbing a blanket from the couch to throw over Minho while you work on breakfast for him and Lulu, finally content that the two most important people in your world love each other as much as they love you.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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can we have a headcannon of y/n (female) thats throwing dark humour around everytime and have 141 + Rudy, Alejandro nd konig react to her lmao 🤣

Can we have that? 💜 Thank you

Girl. Literally me. (I give my coworkers whiplash but they dish it pretty good too lmao)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Might actually get a decent laugh out of him, we’ve all heard his horrendous hilarious jokes, so we all know he can dish it, but can he take it? Depends on the type of humor

If it’s self-depreciating, probably not. Doesn’t really get it? Like he does but he sees you too positively for the humor to click.

Unalive jokes? Definitely not. Hates hearing it from you even if you’re laughing about it, so if you want to make them, you better be cheeky about it (“Head down, sergeant you’ll get spotted.” “Aw sweet, you think so?” You don’t have to be near him or even see him to feel his glare)

Jokes about your traumas? Not super keen on it but if you’re at a point in your life that you feel ok enough to laugh about it, he’s not one to take wind out of your sails (“Damn, this drink hits harder than my dad.” “Sweetheart. Please.”

But if your jokes are similar to his, then your chances of getting a laugh out of him went up exponentially (he thinks he’s so god damn funny and he’s right. king.)

“How do you turn a salad into a Cesar salad?”

“How?”

“Stab it 23 times.” Soap audibly groaned,

“That’s my girl.”

All in all, you’ll get a deep sigh with pinching the bridge of his nose for every joke you make, and maybe you’ll get a pretty laugh from him (god I bet his laugh is so nice 😭)

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

(laughs nervously) what the fuck?

He’s heard Ghost’s jokes firsthand, so the dark humor isn’t new to him. He might even laugh with you and crack a few of his own

Honestly, as long you’re having a laugh he’s not really that worried (still a little worried tho)

He trusts that if you’re feeling particularly bad about something, you’d talk to him about it and he’s here for that

He kind of enjoys the theatre of it, the dramatic reactions to something so seemingly mundane,

“So when are you gonna take me out?”

“To dinner? We just ate, bonnie.”

“… not what I meant but I love where your heads at.”

“Not in a million years.” He laughs kissing your temple and squeezing you against him

“So you’re saying there’s a chance? It’s just a matter of when, got it. Thanks babe, I owe you”

John Price:

He’s not thrilled about it but he’s worked with Ghost so he’s somewhat built a tolerance

He knows you sometimes use dark humor as a coping mechanism but he’ll tease you saying you should come with a warning label

He’s definitely choked at hearing some of the things come out of your mouth, at least the jokes relating to your own traumas, those always give him whiplash

He finds your situational dark humor much funnier than anything you might say that involves you being harmed, even if it is a joke that’s kind a nightmare scenario for him

Those will definitely get a chuckle out of him, just please stop making jokes about yourself, he loves you a little too much to stomach them

“What does my dad have in common with Nemo?” He refuses to answer, he knows, he fucking knows

“They both can’t be found.”

God damn it, sweetheart

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He’ll join you for sure lmao

He’ll see you sparring on the mats with Soap and he sees you land a particularly rough kick that he managed to block

“Damn babe, that was clean. Now do it right here.” He’s pointing at his temple, you laugh and throw your sweaty towel at him

You’re out on recon and you’re making your way towards the targeted area,

“I’d be terrible if I was discovered, sure hope there aren’t any snipers to take me out. That’d be awful.”

Price groaned even as Kyle stifled a chuckle,

“Come on, love, we’re a bit too good to let that happen to you.”

“That’s the real tragedy, honestly.”

“Enough, you two.”

König:

He thinks you’re funny but low key a little worried at how easily the jokes come to you

But if you’re laughing and having a good time, then so is he!

Sometimes you really do say some crazy things and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or to hug you

He likes the jokes that have nothing to do with you much better, you’d be sitting at a briefing in the far corner when you lean in and whisper quietly,

“Köni, what’s red and bad for your teeth?”

“Hm?”

“A brick.”

He stifles a laugh and shakes his head, you can see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he tries to hide the smile.

Alejandro Vargas:

Honestly, he kind of gives me the vibe of “telling a joke becomes receiving a lecture”

Like you’ll make a joke and look at him and he’s deadpanned,

“Mi amor, that’s no laughing matter.” And then he goes into a full lecture about why what you said was out of pocket and a little hurtful

It’s not that he doesn’t understand the humor he’s just concerned

But, he prefers the goofier jokes I feel like,

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away, or at least it does if you throw it hard enough.”

“Mensa.” He pushes your shoulder playfully with a laugh.

Dumb jokes like that get a good laugh out of him, just don’t make them about you please he loves you so much and he will lecture you

Rodolfo Parra:

Mortified in Spanish

“Mi vida, please don’t make those jokes.”

They break his poor little heart :( he loves you so much it makes him sad to hear make such harsh jokes about yourself or even see such awful things

He sighs every time he hears one of your jokes and gives this look 🥺

He doesn’t like that you joke about yourself or the things that have happened to you like that

He understands that humor is sometimes a coping mechanism, but he’d much rather talk through the things you’re joking about

He just cares about you so god damn MUCH

But if they’re nonsensical, then he’ll chuckle quietly,

“You don’t need a parachute to go skydiving.”

“What? Amor you definitely-”

“You need a parachute to go skydiving twice.”

“Dios mío, amor.” He chuckles.

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blubushie · 2 months

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Are there some things you dislike about fans' interpretation of the other mercs?

Yeah uh. This is long so it's under the cut. Whole TF2 fandom boutta be like 2Fort on my arse.

I hate how people make Medic "evil". He's fun and goofy and likes doing experiments and he'll betray the people paying him for the sake of his long-time coworkers who he's mates with. He's not evil, he's not manipulative, outsmarting the LITERAL DEVIL doesn't make you a bad person. There is literally nothing in canon to point to Medic being evil except MAYBE stealing a bloke's spine (coulda been dark humour for all we know) and turning a criminal into a sentient pumpkin, which is something that Engie HELPED HIM DO but no one goes around calling him evil. Medic is chaotic good or chaotic neutral, he is not evil.

The amount of people who are downright racist about Demo, or the amount of people who reduce his addiction to the butt of a joke. There's a lot of shit that I notice. They act like Demo isn't fiercely loyal—look at his relationship to his mum). They act like he's lazy because he's an alcoholic—HE HAS 3 JOBS AND WANTS MORE, HE WASN'T LAZY IN THE COMICS HE WAS DEPRESSED BECAUSE HE LOST ALL HIS MATES. On the other end of the coin, you have people insisting that Demo's alcoholism isn't as bad as it actually is, as if substance abuse is a fucking moral failing and they can't have their blorbo be a bad person by just letting him be the alcoholic he's shown to be in canon.

As an intersex man: do not get me fucking started on the amount of intersex+NB headcanons I've seen of Pyro. People need to realise that like the rest of the human population, most intersex people are cis, that gender is not equivalent to sex, and that EVERY intersex character being non-binary promotes a harmful stereotype. Actually I'll be honest—I side-eye EVERY intersex Pyro headcanon what's made by a perisex person. Most the time they give off massive virtue signal vibes and I really don't like how the second you can't clearly determine someone's gender people immediately go "ah, intersex" like we're all visually androgynous. I also don't like how the person MOST OTHERED ON THE TEAM is always given the intersex headcanon. It doesn't make me feel represented, it makes me feel like everyone already seems me as an other and that's all I'll ever be.

People who act like the pronoun police and insist Pyro's pronouns are they/them. Canonically Pyro is always and consistently referred to as he/him except when he's being dehumanised by his own team and called it. It's cool if you headcanon Pyro as using they/them, just remember it ISN'T CANON and you shouldn't be getting on people's arse about non-canon pronouns. What are you a cop?

On a similar vein, the amount of people who infantilise Pyro. Pyro was literally the CEO OF A COMPANY who was responsible for RECORD PROFITS OF THAT COMPANY. Pyro is an adult. People assume that because Pyro hallucinates or enjoys "childish" things that it means Pyro's a child. Please be fucking normal about mental illness, my god.

People who make Scout transfem for the sole purpose of shipping Scout with Pauling, worse even if they outright make it so that Scout transitioned SPECIFICALLY to hook up with Pauling. You realise that you're enforcing TERF "all transfems are predatory and transition just to get chicks/transfem lesbians are just straight men" rhetoric right? Please tell me you're aware. People who make Scout transfem for reasons beside this (ie you just like transfem Scout) and still hook her up with Pauling for fun, I love you and this post is not about you. <3

People who ignore Medic's likely bisexuality in favour of writing him as a strictly gay male. Bi erasure is fucking real lads. If you have the view that Demo was talking out his arse and didn't actually shag Medic's wife cuz he's not even married, cool ok. I'm talking about the people who insist Medic's wife was his beard.

People who act like the ship police with Pauling's sexuality when her being a lesbian was something mentioned in one tweet on Twitter by Jay, not approved by Valve, and never referenced in the source material (outside of MAYBE how she stared at Zhanna while she was fighting robots, but that facial expression could also be interpreted as impressed or "so horrified she can't look away". Especially when she outright agreed to go on a second date with Scout in Expiration Date. If you headcanon her as a lesbian, cool! Just don't enforce it on other people and give them flak for shipping her with non-women characters. This applies to people aggressively enforcing Medic's sexuality as well. What are you a cop?

How the character people trans the most is the white skinny twink, white skinny otter, or white wolf. Why not Demo? Trans people of colour exist too. I can count the trans Demo headcanons I've seen on one hand. Why not Heavy? Why not Heavy? You know fat trans people exist too right?

My family is southern and half the time people don't know what the fuck goes on down south. Tell me you've never been to a cookout without telling me you've never been to a cookout. They either write him as too northern/coasty and only enforce the "stereotype" southern aspects of him, or they write him as racist/homophobic/transphobic/etc because he's southern. Luckily the latter gets a LOT of pushback on Tumblr so I haven't seen it much, but it's more prevalent on Twitter and fanfic sites.

People conveniently ignoring how Heavy's father was killed and his family was imprisoned by the USSR so they can call him a communist. Lol what. I get that you hate capitalism but you realise there's more options than just capitalism vs communism vs socialism right? That you can hate/dislike communism without also being a capitalist? Heavy would not support communism after what the USSR did to his family in the name of communism because his father was a counter-revolutionary. Also people ignoring WHY Heavy's father was killed, and how his father having different politics got his whole family, including innocent children chucked to a GULAG IN SIBERIA where they were starved and constantly abused by the guards, and how even after their escape the government continued to hunt them with the intent of killing them. He would not be a communist. He probably sees a hammer and sickle in his fucken nightmares.

Spy being evil and an arsehole. You know his schtick is the suave gentleman right? He's cool but he also has to be cringefail. And arsehole is a far cry from a gentleman.

People making Soldier a bigot. Har har I know it's funny to joke about the bloke obsessed with America being a bigot, but do you honestly think he cares enough? He's xenophobic at worst. Everyone is assumed to be American and his best mate is a black Scottish cyclops. Half the time I'm convinced you people want Soldier to be a bigot so you can write bigoted shit and not cop shit cuz it's coming out of his mouth.

Carrying on from prev, the amount of people I've seen use the time setting as an excuse to be bigoted towards the characters. This is ESPECIALLY prevalent where it seems like every story-focussed fic of Demo has a scene where someone is being racist to him and he Heroically Sticks Up For Himself or someone else sticks up for him to show How Much They Don't Care About Being Seen With A Black Man (usually it's Soldier, sometimes it's Sniper). You realise everyone knows racism is bad, right? That that's really not necessary? It wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't in EVERY FIC but it's like the author always needs to proudly claim themselves Not Racist while writing REALLY RACIST SHIT directed at the ONE CONFIRMABLE MAN OF COLOUR on the team just so they can yell "RACISM BAD but here's me jumping at the opportunity to call a man of colour a racial slur".

Well, reckon that about covers her...

#blu whos #abad #tf2

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safedistancefrombeingsmart · 14 days

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The Responder S2 (spoiler free review)

So, I just finished watching the 2nd season of The Responder.

What. A. Ride.

After the very excellent 1st season (still mad about the BAFTA snub(s) btw.), I wasn't sure if they could pull off the same level of quality again. Ok, the trailer looked great, but I think we can agree that trailers can be deceiving. But let me tell you: they did pull it off. Season 2 is as good as season 1 and I maybe even better.

We don't need to introduce most of the characters any more and dive right into the drama. Season 1 was dark and gritty, and this one is even darker and grittier. That's usually a turn-off for me, but we have that very subtle, very macabre humour again, which I loved (and needed).

The new characters were amazing additions. Bernard Hill (RIP 😢, felt so bittersweet to seem him) as Chris' father and Adam Nagaitis as Franny were both excellent.

The storylines were all very interesting and well executed. There were so many moments where I just mumbled to myself "Jesus Christ, how can it get worse?", but it's never over the top or unbelievable. Just a lot of very bad decisions by most of the characters who have to deal with the shit life is throwing at them and not knowing how to handle it. Really loved Rachel's storyline.

Martin must have loved filming season 2- there is so much more swearing! 🤭😂

Very, very good season!

PS: Don't expect any gifs from me until next week, I am leaving for a short vacation tomorrow (London!!).

@khorazir I am so glad that I waited. 😉

#martin freeman #the responder #the responder 2 #chris carson

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eveningepiphany · 1 year

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bestie i definitely want a part two of the mistletoe!

Mistletoe | H.S, part 2

my masterlist <3

if you have any requests, send them in here

summary: Y/Ns flight gets canceled last minute after their morning BBC show, and without anywhere to go she calls harry— and it’s their first time alone together after the kiss they’d shared under the mistletoe.

warnings: smut, soft/bestfriend harry, oral f receiving, PIV unprotected, riding, praise kink, fluff, and dirty talk.

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on part one! I hope you enjoy this just as much, and thank you for your patience in waiting for this— hope your holiday season was filled with fun. I <3 soft harry.

———

The morning show had gone great, despite the mountains of tension between you and Harry. Maybe no one else picked up on it, and you were just hyper aware of his every glance and touch.

Hell, maybe you were even reading into it. Maybe last night was just a one off thing. A spur of the moment—never to be talked about— kind of thing. It could’ve meant nothing.

You’d woken up together, his alarm blaring from his phone further down the his mattress. You’d groaned together, collectively complaining about how fucking early it was. But not once mentioned last night, or the fact you woke up together.

But you didn’t have another chance to talk about it— when he and Anne dropped you all off at the airport he hugged you last out of the boys— it was a tight hug, paired with a whispered, ‘I’ll call you when you’re home.’

So you are unsure where everything stands. And you’d been left to mull it over in the uncomfortable airport chairs that you’d already been in for far too long.

You’d been in this damn airport far too long.

You suppose now though, the whole thing with you and Harry is the currently the least of your problems.

The rest of the boys are probably home by now.

“Assholes.” You mutter, cursing them for that exact reason.

Your gate had begun to quieten down since the announcement of the delay.

The boys flights were hardly an hour after you got to the airport, yours on the other hand was about 5.

Within those 5 hours, a storm had came crashing over this part of the UK.

Now you were without accomodation for the next 16 hours, which was apparently the earliest they could reschedule.

It was already 9:30pm– so you didn’t know what to do with yourself, it’s a long time to wait around in the airport.

You knew it was gonna be hard to get a hotel room, given how many flights had been delayed this last minute.

So, you sat for a minute and contemplate it. Without many other options you opened your phone and rung the only person who you could think of. The only person you had been thinking of.

You pressed your lips together as it rung, and on the fourth ring his voice came through.

“Y/N, love?” He sounded a little raspy, tired.

“Harry, im so sorry— you weren’t asleep were you?” You say, quickly feeling apologetic.

“No, no— jus’ laying down on the couch watching friends, why? It’s like 9:30 shouldn’t you be on your flight?”

“Yea uh… I am supposed to be.” Your voice faltered a little at the end, you just wanted to go home. You were already emotionally exhausted, and this on top was proving to be a bit much.

You glance outside the airport windows trying to distract yourself— not wanting to start having a mental breakdown in the middle of the airport and draw unwanted attention your way. It had got dark hours ago but it was clearly bucketing down rain.

“What happened?” He asked, immediately sounding concerned at your wavering voice.

“Is it not raining at your place? It torrential here, my flight got delayed.” You laugh a little, without humour.

“No it’s not— how far back was it pushed?”

“16 hours, not till 1pm tomorrow.” You sigh.

“Holy shit…” He audibly gasps through the speaker.

“I hate to be asking, but is it ok if I catch a taxi or an Uber back yours? I don’t think I’m gonna find anywhere to st—“

“Y/N, you are not catching a taxi or an Uber, I’m coming to get you.” He states, and you hear him shuffling in the background. Keys getting pulled from a drawer.

“You don’t have to come get me, I’m fine to get there—“

He cuts you off again, “Nope, I’m getting in the car now, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Harry, I swear I’ll be ok!” You feel terrible, knowing he is probably just as tired as you are.

“See y’soon, stay warm. Buy somethin’ to eat and drink while you wait, love. Call you when I get there.” You hear the engine start, you don’t even have time to protest anymore because he hangs up on you.

You groan aloud, frustration mixed with gratitude coursing through you.

Standing from the chair you’d been sitting in, you stretch. Sunglasses and beanie pulled over your face to try and prevent people from recognising you.

Even though you felt guilty he was driving all this way to get you, you were also relieved. trying to get an Uber somewhere, especially with your status is anxiety inducing to say the least.

You just hoped he drove safe in this weather.

You decide to go and buy food, sourcing a place that served your favourites.

The hour dragged on after you’d ate, and you felt drowsy. You were sitting at one of the tables closer to the exit, charging your phone when it rung.

When you answered, Harry of course was on the other side of the line.

“Hey sweet, sorry for the wait. I’m out the front.” You smile with relief, glad he was here safe.

“Thank you so much, H. I’m coming out now—“

“I parked in the 5 minute ones, you’ll see my car.”

You quickly chuck your charger into your bag, grabbing your suitcase and head straight for the sliding doors.

A blast of freezing wind hits you as you walk out, and you feel it to your bones.

True to his word, you spot Harry’s car a few metres away, and you were grateful he got such a close park.

He gets out the moment he sees you, popping the trunk.

“Are you ok?” He asks the second you’re close enough to hear him over the wind and rain, grabbing your face between his warm hands.

“Mmhm— just emotionally burnt out. Thank you for coming to get me.” You smile, his concern endearing.

He nods, relief thrumming through him. He picks up your suitcase, placing it into his trunk.

You both hurry into his car, trying to get out of the cold.

It’s perfectly warm in there, and you strap into the passenger side.

“You didn’t have to come all this way. I appreciate it though.” You whisper.

“Yes I did. I know you’re safe, and that we’ll get home together in one piece. That is worth endlessly more than an hour drive.”

You feel his words seep into the centre of your chest, warm and soft. You reach your hand over to grab his, squeezing it.

You don’t move it and he starts to drive, and you both talk about random stuff as you usually do together. It half lulls you to sleep, your head leaning against the window.

This hour went much faster, the highway was quiet and his home town even quieter.

You pull into his childhood home, and he turns the engine off.

You force your head up, shaking your limbs out. “I’m awake.”

He laughs at you trying to convince yourself. You slide out the car door, legs feeling a little numb as they try to hold you up.

He grabs your suitcase out for you, wheeling it to the access door and unlocking it.

The lamps are dimly lit, and the TV not properly turned off— it was clear he had left in a moments notice.

“Thank you.” You say, for what had to be the 12th time.

“Stop thanking me, Y/N.” He chuckles.

It was nearly midnight now, and he walked over to flick everything off.

“Is Anne asleep?”

“Yea, mum went to bed pretty early— was too early a start for her this morning. Or yesterday, seeing it’s nearly midnight.”

“I’m feeling her, I could’ve fell asleep at the damn airport.”

You trudge towards the stairs, carrying up your suitcase.

He quickly follows you up once everything downstairs is off.

You stop at the top, placing your bag down with a quiet thump and a pant— it was physical workout, considering how much your bag weighed. It baffles you how Harry carries it like it weighs nothing.

Your eyes flit over to the window without even thinking, straight to where you’d shared that kiss. The one you’d been replaying in your head since it happened.

Your first, and very perfect kiss together.

He’s standing behind you quietly, clocking where your eyes are looking. And he’s reliving the exact same memory as you.

He draws in a breath, trying to stabilise his emotions— his fingertips burning with the pure need to touch you.

You swallow at the thought of stumbling into his room last night, realising you just assumed you were staying in there tonight as well.

“Forget where you’re going, sweet?” He runs his hand down your back.

The touch leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“No… just- distracted.” You mumble, allowing him to slip past you and lead you into his room.

It smells just like him as you walk in, and it will never fail to overwhelm you. How perfect his scent is.

“Mmm, I bet.” He says ambiguously.

“What is that supposed to mean.” It slips out of your mouth shyer than you intended.

He turns, locking eyes with you, “I think you know exactly what I mean by that.”

“I don’t.” You say, defiantly.

He moves carefully closer, “you don’t?”

It’s a challenge when it comes from his mouth, you can only shake your head.

He kisses the pulse point on your neck, just how he had under the mistletoe— except this time he takes the skin between his lips, giving it a harsh suck.

“Remind you at all?” He pulls away an inch, and the blood has rushed into your cheeks— so much so they felt like they were on fire.

You don’t say anything. You don’t know how. Your lips move, but nothing comes out.

“How about this…” he trails up to your parted lips, ghosting over them.

You were awake now. Your whole body pulsing with the thoughts of where his hands— and lips— could touch.

“Harry…” you whined, and the noise was enough to have him seeing stars.

He slid his hands down to the small of your back, tugging you as close as possible.

“I swear, you are unreal, Y/N.” He sighs into your cheek.

You push your lips back into his, and he parts them for you straight away.

You slip your tongue into his mouth, savouring the feeling of it. Allowing yourself to map it out with gradual strokes.

He’s panting already, and he pushes you back, both of you stumbling into the middle of his bed.

He ends up taking the lead again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth— knowing the kind of reaction it spiked in you last time.

You moan into his mouth, and glide your hand into his soft hair, pulling at the roots.

His have found their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts through the bra you’re wearing.

“If you want to stop—“ he says, breathlessly, “now is the time, because I don’t know if I can do this again.”

The room around you falls quiet and you cautiously look to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” You ask— little to no clue what he’s implying, a little panic rising in your chest.

He stares at you, serious, hands roaming down to your lower back.

“Kiss you like this, have you moaning like this— and not have you come because of me atleast twice.”

“Leaving you to fall asleep next to me— wet enough I could feel it through your sleep shorts, and not have anything done about it— is something I am not having happen again.” His words made you shiver, and his admission last night to how bad he wanted to make you finish on his face was ringing in your ears.

“What about Anne?”

“To hell with it.” He huffs, peeling his tshirt over his head, “She’ll be dead to the world at this hour— just try to keep quiet.”

“If this is what you want to do, anyway?” He clarifies, “And if y’wanna stop at anytime y’know y’can.”

“God, Harry you don’t understand how bad I want to feel you.” You affirm, pulling your own sweatshirt off, “I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you, darling. As much as I’d love to hear your pretty moans…” his sentence trails off, kissing the top of your breasts as he lays you down.

“Want your mouth on me.” You plead, the thought of it being enough to have you clenching around nothing.

“I’m sure you do, ‘specially after I put it in your head last night. Have you been thinking about it all day, hmm?” He teases, shifting down your body.

“Yea— yea I have.” You confess with a whine.

He raises his brows, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

“What about before? You ever got off to the thought of my tongue in your pussy?” He smirks, knowing he’s venturing into uncharted territory— admissions of want, prior to your first kiss.

“Your ego would love to hear a yes wouldn’t it.” You tease a little, even though it would be a lie to say you haven’t conjured up small fantasies of him late at night. Ones where he’s got more than just his head between your legs.

“Oh, it would. But I think I already know the answer, going off how hot and bothered I’m making you.”

Which is true, you’re squirming beneath him, unconsciously arching up your lower half trying to get any kind of friction.

“Can I take these off?” He asks with warm hands tucked into your waistband, waiting for your curt nod before he shucks your pants down, your panties half going with it.

The energy shifts, his hands coming to a halt.

Like the realisation of what he’s doing and who he’s touching like this has come crashing down, just from seeing your lower half laid bare for him.

Harry is your best friend, your bandmate. Someone who you never thought would actually have their hands on you like this.

“Fuck. Look at you.” The sight of you looking up at him like that, all doe-eyed and shy had his cock aching.

His hands slip back into motion, but this time with less urgency.

He pulls both your pants and underwear off your legs, tossing them somewhere on his floor.

He pushes a finger through your slit, “This why you’re so wet? Been waiting for me to get my mouth on you for longer than you admitted.”

“Please, Harry.”

You push your hips into his touch, groaning into the sheets of his bed as he draws slow circles on your clit.

He leans to press a kiss into the crease of your thigh, so close to where you want him most.

Licking a stripe along the same spot, you begin to plead, “Please just touch me. Need it…”

“My poor girl is so needy. Cant even wait a second for me to get my tongue on her.” He coos, but gives in either way, letting his tongue push through your wet slit.

You’re trying so hard to hold back the moans as he flicks and sucks your clit, but fuck is this the best oral you’ve ever had.

Most guys you’ve been with rush through it, wanting to get it over with because it does nothing to please them. But Harry is clearly a giver, and gets a lot out of pleasing someone like this.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come so fast.” You cry, an arm getting thrown over your face as you arch into every movement he makes.

He smiles into you, moving his mouth to your entrance, pushing his tongue in a bit before dragging back up to you clit— his nose bumping it in just the right spot.

Another moan comes out of you, unbridled as your cunt flutters in sync with the licks he’s placing against you.

He swaps between your clit and entrance, making sure both are getting the attention they deserve. Fast firm strokes along you— paired with kisses and sucks — are having you come undone faster than you’d expected.

“Shhh, baby, been doing so well f’me, can feel how close you are.” He pushes a finger into you, and you have to bite down on your lip to try and keep yourself quiet.

Pushing in another finger, he grunts, “God, you’re tight.”

“Been awhile…” you spoke, voice wavering— it sounding distant in your own head.

He hummed into you, the vibration of it pulsing through the whole of your body.

Curse words were flying out your lips, which you were trying so hard to keep shut. But every lap of his tongue against you had your resolve to keep quiet slipping through your grasp.

“I’m going to come, H. Hard.” You moaned— it was tearing out of you loudly, and you tired to muffle it with the crook of your arm.

“You can come, darling, ‘round my fingers and mouth like a good girl.”

His permission and praise was all you needed to tip over the edge, your cunt spasming around his fingers that were still pumping in and out of you.

He licked through your slick until you couldn’t breathe, your legs closing around his head trying to get him off your sensitive nerves.

Your breath was laboured as he pulled back, placing a final kiss on your stomach before making his way back up your body.

“Thank you…” you tiredly said, laying with your eyes half-lidded on his bed. And although you felt like you could fall asleep, there was no way you could not let him fuck you properly after that.

You pushed yourself up, and moved onto his lap.

He watched you carefully, a question in his eyes.

That was answered as you ground your hips carefully into his, the fabric of his sweatpants sending a zip up your spine.

“We don’t have to, sweet. Not if your tired.” His hand fell to your hip.

But when his mouth is still glistening with your arousal and cock is so hard underneath you, how could you not?

“I know, Harry. I really want to though.” You sigh into his neck, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you rubbed yourself along his fabric-covered boner.

All of the little noises coming from the back of his throat were sounded into your ear, and knowing how good this must be making him feel charged you to keep going.

“That’s right. Rub yourself through it Y/N. Over my cock, dripping all onto my pants.” His tone was deep, dipped in honey as he spoke to you.

You moaned as he snapped his hips upwards to meet the movement of your own.

“I’m clean and on the pill.” You say into his ear, shuddering. You have never wanted anything more.

He pauses, realisation at what your insinuating.

“Are you a hundered percent sure? Because I trust that you’re clean. And so am I.”

You start moving your hips again, “a thousand percent.”

“Can just imagine how easy m’gonna slip into you.” He traces patterns along the base of your spine.

“Just want to make you feel good, H.” You kiss the warm skin of his neck, taking it into your lips and biting it gently.

“Fuck, well y’already doing a good job of that.”

Your hand travels to his waistband, and he allows you to pull him out of his boxers.

He’s thick in your hand, heavy just as you’d imagined. But it’s so much better than you’d thought. He’s warm and smooth, head of him as pink as his lips.

You stroke along it, thumb brushing over his tip, dragging the pre-come that had leaked out down his shaft, indulging in his grunts that are sounding in your ear.

You shift up on your knees— unable to wait any longer, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds with a mutual gasp.

You rub a few circles on your clit with it, until your knees feel like they’re going to buckle. Which no better a time to line him up with your entrance.

“God— are you going to ride me?” He moans, holding you still with his hands for a moment.

“Is that ok?”

“That is so fucking hot.” He states, eyes pinching closed.

You sink yourself into him, feeling the stretch of your cunt as it tries to accomodate his large size.

You scrape your nails down his back as you get to the base of him, moaning in sync with one another.

“Oh my god.” His stomach muscles are clenching, “don’t move.”

The walls of his room seem to be spinning around him, and he inhales a deep breath in attempt to ground himself.

His hands rest on the peak of your hips, as he shudders out the same breath he just took in, “Sorry— you’re just so fuckin’ warm and tight.”

“You’re huge.” You whimper in response.

“Taking it so well. Knew you would, knew you’d be so snug around my cock. Always wanted to have you moan like this for me.” The words spill like a lust-drunk confession from his mouth.

You can’t even find anything to say back, just a passionate kiss over his lips.

“Can move now.” He says into your mouth.

Your hips gradually begin to move, starting with slow and precise rolls that have you both panting against each other.

His cock twitched inside you as you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on him— your fingers finding their way down to your clit.

All you could feel was the hot burning pleasure in the pit of your stomach, and so much was coming from your mouth but you couldn’t even tell what it was. Just a mixture of swearing, moans and his name.

“Shh, sweet girl— fuck— know it feels so good but you have to stay quiet.” He cups your jaw, sealing your lips with another kiss.

The heat radiating off both of your bodies was searing, paired with the fiery pleasure in your stomachs, it could fight off even the coldest of December days.

His other hand replaced your own, and worked your clit better than you ever could. His long fingers swirling your bud in fast circles that matched your every bounce.

His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, desperately trying to hush his own groans. It was a sight to see him, his flushed face and messy brown curls— how he was trying just as hard to hold back.

“You’re so warm. Riding me so well.” He praises you with a grunt, stroking your clit with more pressure. You couldn’t even manage to respond, your thoughts were beyond muddled, and they only got worse as he increased the speed of his fingers.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your walls had your jaw fall completely lax, your hot breath fanning across his damp skin.

His only free hand travelled to your breast, kneading the warm flesh there, tweaking your nipple with gentle fingers.

“Oh god, oh god— Harry!” Every touch was clashing together into one euphoric feeling, your whole body shaking.

Your muscles were clenched taut, like a rubber band getting pulled tighter and tighter— and you were about to snap.

“Fuck, come around my cock— wanna feel it.”

His hips are bucking up to meet your bounces, he’s hitting every spot inside you.

“Harry— I’m going to— I’m gonna come.” You cried into his shoulder.

Praise is pouring from his mouth, and all it takes is a final flick of your clit too have you knocked of all your air.

Your jaw drops, teeth hitting Harry’s sharp collarbone, mantras of his name coming breathlessly from your mouth.

“God you’re perfect— squeezing so perfectly around me.” He moans, still playing with your clit.

“Please come, baby. Want you to fill me up.” You plead— tugging the roots of his hair, trying to keep up the pace of your bounces despite the blinding pleasure.

“Fuckk.” He comes within seconds of hearing you beg for it, his hips stuttering to meet your thrusts— his abdomen flexing under your fingers.

You ride him to the point your eyes are tearing up with the overstimulation, ensuring you get every drop of warm come you can from him.

Eventually you come to a halt at the base of him, now that both your orgasms have dulled out and he’s softening inside you.

You kiss his temple, hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

“You were so good for me, love.” He whispers.

You slip out of him, missing how he filled you up immediately. He rolled you both over before you could think about it too much, and your legs wrapping around his middle.

You looked down at the moth tattoo situated between your legs, and boldly you state, “I’d ride this too if I wasn’t so tired.”

His brows shoot up as you say that, your fingers beginning to outline the tattoo gingerly.

“You’re gonna give me another boner if you keep this up.” His voice falling a tone deeper.

A laugh sounds from you, and you cuddle up into his chest, “Sorry, but not really.” You say.

He plays with your hair, “Asshole.”

Your falling into a drowsy state, “Are you plaiting my hair?”

He hums a yes, “d’ya have a hair tie for it?”

“On my wrist.” You huff out a laugh, and you pull your hand from around his neck so he can pull it off.

He ties it, and kisses your forehead.

“Goodnight Y/N.” He whispers, seeing your shut eyes.

“Goodnight Harry.” You whisper back, pausing for a few seconds— then daring to say what’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue all night.

“I love you.” It’s a hush confession, one your too tied to care if you’re gonna regret it.

He looks down at you, through his own half-lidded eyes, “fuck, I love you too. So much.”

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles oneshot #best friend!harry #harrystyles smut #best friends to lovers #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #soft!harry

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whinlatter · 1 year

Note

Also how do you think ginny and Harry's marital life was? Did they get married early?Did Ginny sometimes resent her husband's profession? As a couple do you think they fought often?

Thanks so much for always replying to all the asks so wonderfully! You're so amazing!!!

I think Harry and Ginny's marital life was happy, of course! I think their marriage was a singular source of stability and renewing joy throughout their adult lives. (can you imagine if I was like... nah, it was garbage, divorce)

Without further ado... here's too many words and thoughts on Harry and Ginny's married life and careers, and some fic recs that have helped shape how I think about it dotted throughout. Come for the twee house descriptions, stay for the rant about neoliberal feminism at the end I guess!

On married life and the Potter household:

I love the idea of the Potters presiding over this ramshackle chaos household in big house near the sea, with a great big garden and treehouse for their kids and the cousins and various pets to maraud about all over the place. I actually think quite a lot about the house they'd be in. I love the idea of them building it from scratch, a big house with modern comforts but rustic, cosy, English country features, more horizontal than vertical (kind of farm/barn conversion vibes). In my mind, their house has lots of light, lots of beams and soft wood furnishings, and then a few quirky features and colours that are all Ginny's idea (Luna paints beautiful murals on each of the kids' walls). I imagine their house has lots of big windows with window seats so the adults can sit out and watch the kids play outside. I think the kitchen/dining room would be the heart of the house. Harry's doing the cooking, Ginny's writing at the table, kids are streaming in and out, it's just a real thoroughfare of teenagers and family friends and grandparents streaming through with the wireless on.

On marrying and having kids young:

I do really think Harry and Ginny got married early and had kids young. As I get older I only get more ok with that as a timescale for them. I think the intensity of their wartime experiences, their very involved role as godparents to Teddy (especially thinking maybe it might be nice for Teddy to have younger god-siblings), and their family reference points (both being from families where marrying young is quite normal, and where babies and toddlers are increasingly around a lot) are all factors that lend themselves to these two locking in in their early twenties. The pieces I love most on their marriage/babies etc are all ones that have a lot of humour and spontaneity and walk this gorgeous line between flippancy and total certainty - acesofdiamond's version of their wedding in Arran, Scotland, is canon to me, and also quickfire by flagpoles, on them having a shotgun wedding, is just so so so good and so them.

On Harry's career:

I think Ginny would understand why Harry chose the career he did, but I think it would be a source of tension for them. I'm thinking a lot about this at the minute for some writing (👀), but I think Harry as an adult would have to confront the fact that he intends to keep choosing to get back in the arena and fight Dark magic, this thing he does it to keep the people he loves safe but that also asks so much of the same loved ones who have to watch him do it. I think Ginny would try to push him to see that, but I don't think those would be easy conversations, and I do think it would be one of the things they argue most about on the occasions when they do, properly, fight. On the day to day, things they bicker over include: whose fault it is that the house is a mess (obviously it's both of them, plus the three messy children those two messy kids created); whose fault it is that the Potters are literally always late to everything (Harry blames Ginny, Ginny says the only reason he was ever on time before was because of Hermione, and he chose not to marry the punctual one so he just has to lump it); and Ginny losing her wand around the house/not keeping her wand on her (it takes Harry a long time to say it, but he's always just thinking of James on the sofa the night he died).

On Ginny's career:

I know this is a bit controversial, but I'm honestly happy with the idea of Ginny quitting playing professional Quidditch young. I think she quits after she has James, or maybe between Albus and Lily, so by the time she's about twenty four, twenty five. This is a bit of a soapbox one for me, and maybe one day I'll write about it in some form, but I think there's quite a lot to be said for freeing yourself from being accountable to career decisions and dreams you once had for yourself when you were seventeen, especially career plans that served as escape hatches from traumatic teen years (for the same reason, I like the idea of Ron quitting the Aurors after a few years). I think, as teenagers, we imagine futures for versions of ourselves we haven't met yet. Renegotiating your hopes and aspirations for yourself can be a real sign of growth; holding yourself hostage to who you thought you'd be can make you very miserable.

Relatedly, I do think Ginny in her mid-twenties might have a different relationship to her playing Quidditch than she has a teen. I think lot of her wanting to play professionally is about her having something to prove (I have also totally adopted the headcanon from this fantastic piece on Ginny wanting to be outdoors and in the air as a rejection of the chamber). It feels right to me that Ginny might reconsider her attitude to physical risk and injury by her mid-twenties, particularly if her children are watching her play an extremely dangerous sport week-in week out. I also think she might reconsider how much time she wants to spend away from her family. I wonder if Ginny would also develop a different relationship to the sport outside of a school context, especially the press scrutiny and the big business of sport on the outside. We know that when she quits playing, it's not the end of her professional life, and I think her writing about the sport, and being a voice in the culture of the sport but also in the Wizarding World at large, makes a ton of sense for her. But I think it's good to change jobs because what you want for yourself changes, and I really think it's not a feminist failing to want to spend time with your family and to look for jobs that are interesting and help give your life meaning but that also let you have a family life. It's boardroom girlboss neoliberal nonsense feminism that says wanting to spend time with your friends and family is less of a route to happiness than climbing up some horrendous hyper-individualist career ladder in pursuit of success (especially, in Ginny's case, in professional sport, where careers only ever end on a downturn).

Thank you anon for wanting to hear me bang on about all of this!

Fics mentioned here include:

dancing on to your heartbeat by aceofdiamonds - H/G wedding fic

quick-fire by flagpoles - H/G proposal and pregnancy fic

Little Sugar Men by dopeythedwarf - H/G, on Ginny and flying

#harry and ginny's house is a beautiful mess because so are its occupants #sorry for the soapbox but i will rant about ginny's career choices until the cows come home #hinny #headcanons #fic rec #thank you anon!#harry x ginny #ginny weasley #harry potter #meta

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 3 months

Note

OK I need to know about this:

Lord Voldemort, accidental relationship counsellor

But also 👉👈 thus, friends absent speak is one of my top 3 comfort fics and I actually plan to re-read it once I get this chapter posted today so I'd love any bit of that 🖤

Ahh, thank you for asking, Evaleon! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

So, the idea behind "Lord Voldemort, accidental relationship counsellor" is that he keeps overhearing Death Eater gossip from Harry and Nagini, who catch a lot of secrets when they skulk around unseen (Nagini hiding in shadows, Harry creeping under his invisibility cloak). Vee keeps absently dropping wisdom to his Death Eaters about their problems that he seems to pull from the ether (completely freaking out his minions and enforcing the idea of his omniscience).

Halfway through the doc file, it turns into "Harry Potter, accidental relationship counsellor," where Harry uses the secrets he overhears from his skulking or talking with Vee/Nagini to give the worst advice possible that keeps working out for the best, to his frustration.

In either incarnation, it would end with one of them unwittingly "counselling" Draco about his crush on Harry. Vee would figure it out and start threatening Draco away from his man; Harry would remain oblivious, and chaos would likely ensue.

---

As for thus, friends absent speak, I did not realize it's been more than a year since I last updated it... @_@ I'm sorry for the delay, and thank you for liking it so much!!

I have pretty much the rest of the fic outlined and partly written, but I kept getting distracted by other fics. So, here's a snippet from a couple chapters down the line:

Once again, revelation struck Harry as he stared up at his bed’s canopy. Fuck. He’d known he was starting to like Voldemort as they continued to converse – as the Dark Lord acted more reasonable than Harry would’ve ever expected. The man’s sense of humour, dryer and sharper than bay leaves, made Harry laugh more often than anything else these days. That was… fine. The more they liked each other – and that increase in regard did seem to go both ways, Harry wasn’t in this alone – the more likely it was they could reach some sort of compromise. If he could prevent all-out war, if he could shift Voldemort’s ambitions away from violence and pureblood ideology – maybe he wouldn’t need to kill the Dark Lord. But this, Harry thought as he half-smothered himself under a pillow, was mental. He couldn’t be so stupid as to have a crush on Voldemort.

Gonna set myself a goal to post at least one chapter for this fic in March!

#epistolary fic #harrymort #harry “making bad decisions” potter #asks #wip game

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starrylayle · 4 months

Text

Marauders headcanons — Remus Lupin

Ok so, I’ve been seeing a lot of controversy surrounding the fanonization of the marauders era characters,, and while they’re in no way problematic per se, I’m more interested in headcanons that expand on canon characterization, so here’s a few of my personal headcanons:

5'10 -- quite thin, terrible posture

I imagine that Remus was quite strong despite his thin stature, possibly due to his werewolfness. We know from the books that Remus was able to contain sirius when he was in fits of anger, despite previous description of him as thin and frail.

Remus hates his strength, he is terrified of what he may or may not be able to do. He always tries to compensate for this, trying to be mellow, patient and doing his very best not to succumb to his anger. He thinks the anger comes from ‘the wolf’ and not him, so he does all he can to suppress it.

He is a very angry man tho — he just tries to suppress it, coming off as patient and mellow.

I also picture Remus from a poor background — I think that is mostly canon anyhow — he always tries to compensate for this by speaking speaking as posh as he can, dressing presentable, etc, etc. He doesn’t quite succeed in this tho and ends up coming off as a little awkward and stilted.

Ok now a little bit of projecting with something that’s definitely not canon but I think really fits into his character — he has OCD. Most of his intrusive thoughts contain him hurting his loved one as a werewolf, because he’s a werewolf, etc, etc. idk if this is common knowledge or not but a lot of ppl who have ocd (like me), when they’re met with these violent intrusive though perform obsessive rituals as a way to ‘counter act’ these thoughts from becoming real. So I imagine Remus is always mumbling to himself and doing repetitive tasks/gestures that no one really takes notice of except Sirius, who just assumes he’s being his quirky self.

Remus grew up pretty isolated, and when he did interact with ppl it was mostly with older adults so he doesn’t really know how to communicate with kids his age until he gets to hogwarts

I hc that his dad left shortly after Remus was bit (Lyall couldn’t stand the guilt and the hurt of having a werewolf as a son), so Remus grew up with a muggle mother who had no idea how to handle his wizard/werewolfness so he was being constantly hospitalised as a kid. His mother was also a little afraid of him and even tho Remus knew she loved him very much, he knew she didn’t quite know what to do with him. Also I imagine that his mum mental health slowly deteriorated after his father left so she was bed ridden quite a lot.

He loved reading and listening to music (could be a bit of a snob when it came to those two interests) as that’s how he used fill his void as a child. I really like the dyslexia hc that atyd had tho so maybe if he didn’t learn to read till hogwarts, he would spend most of his childhood in small isolated corners dreaming up worlds — and when he finally learnt to read that was his substitute.

Remus Lupin was not naturally smart,, but he never thought he’d be able to get into hogwarts and so he feels like he kinda owes it to himself to get good grades. Thus he studies so hard, way harder than sirius or James ever would have to, yet he doesn’t ever get quite as good as them. He is a little bit jealous but he would never hold that against them because he’s so grateful that he was even granted such an opportunity.

He feels like he doesn’t deserve friends as good as the marauders and has a huge inferiority complex. He keeps to himself and always tries to keep his issues away from his friends so as not to burden them.

He can be sarcastic tho, and has dry wit. He doesn’t think he’s very funny and always gets surprised when ppl laugh at his joke. He can also have a bit of dark humour at times.

He blindly trusts and idolises dumbledore. He thinks he owes his life to him, and would do whatever he could to please dumbledore.

During The Prank, he didn’t actually think he would kill Snape, probably just bite him, but for him a fate as a werewolf is much worse than death so he hates sirius for allowing that to happen. (In canon — it is stated that werewolves don’t often kill ppl — they usually just injure them or bite them into becoming one). Tho of course he forgives sirius eventually despite his better judgement, because he could never hold a grudge, especially against one of his closest friends (or lover…).

Appearance-wise, I hc Remus to be biracial. His mum is a Black woman from London and his dad is a Jewish Welsh man. he has light brown skin and eyes, a wide crooked nose broken from his nights in the full moon, and 3a-3b dark brown curls. I also imagine Lily to be from a Jewish background so I like to think that she would introduce Remus to Jewish traditions he felt that he’s been left out from — oh and speaking of which, Remus and Lily have a very special friendship!!

Also on appearance — i imagine that he’s super average looking. Like literally just some guy — sirius however thinks he’s so hot and that the sun shines out of his ass (no one gets it))

Remus with chronic pain + mobility aids. I think that lycanthropy being used as a metaphor for disability and such is quite common, and reasonably so.

Oh yeah, and this probably goes without saying,, he’s like, super gay. And in love with sirius. His marriage to tonks was one of convenience lol. (Again, just my headcanon!!)

Oop this was super long and ramble-y. Let me know if u enjoyed it and if u have any similar hcs! Prolly gonna do sirius next because that man is super mischaracterised in fanon holy shit.

#marauders #marauders era #marauders hcs #remus lupin #wolfstar #remus being remus #remus x sirius #canon remus lupin #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin hcs #wet noodle remus lupin agenda

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like-rain-or-confetti · 1 year

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Ok I'm thinking child reader maybe about like 8-10 years old helps them and thinks they are nice and the rouge is nice to them aswell. Untill on day when the reader stops by for there daily little talk and they end up getting arrested by the Batman and the reader is just heartbroken

( maybe them finding the reader like a couple years later. But that's if you wanna right that)

( maybe Mr freeze , the riddler , scarecrow , two face , and Jervis tech )

-anon💜🕷️

Did I just put out CONTENT? WOWZA. It's been 84 years. Some will have the time jump and others won't but I hope you like it! 🥰

The Riddler: "Mr Riddler! Mr Riddler!" You rushed up to him and his friend you had never seen before. "Oh, its you." Edward acknowledged. You clung to Edward's wrist to try and keep up. "What are you doing here today?" You looked up at him. "Watching imminent failure." He replied with a chuckle. "Whats a immi-" You were cut off by the Riddler's friend who turned on his heel making you jump. You had seen a lot of scarred individuals but never one so severe as that man. "You know what, Nygma? How about you go and fu-" Was the last thing you heard before two hands clamped over your ears. You looked up to see Edward with a rather bored expression, covering your ears and making the man's voice muffled into coherent angry mumbles. Edward's eyes shifted towards you and he cracked a smile. Finally, he released your head. "Honestly Harvey and in front of the children too." Edward tutted with a taunting smirk.

"Get off me you simple airhead! Mindless drones! Release me!" The Riddler yelled as he was cuffed. He struggled against the Batman until he caught sight of you. You hugged your father's side, eyes wide as you watched him. The Riddler's jaw clenched before he turned away. He often preached how the truth was under an oblivious Gotham's nose but this time he took no pleasure in you discovering the truth.

Fifteen years later and Edward couldn't help but smile at the nurse who stood before him. He sat with Two-Face and Scarecrow. "What?" The nurse smiled, slightly amused. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Edward hummed and leaned his head against his hand, propped up by the table. "You think I wouldn't recognise my little friend? You're all grown up now." Edward smirked. "Well it has been a while, puzzle man." You reply warmly.

Mister Freeze: Today had to be one of the hottest days in Gotham and Victor was more than eager to get back into the cold. You however caught sight of him and as always insisted on saying hello to him. Victor always humoured you and had asked what you were doing. "Drawing!" You replied. "I made this for you!" You thrust a piece of paper towards him as he gingerly took the paper in his gloved hand. "Thank you." Victor replied quietly. Nora would have loved you. He noticed your pout at the stairs "What is wrong?" He asked. You held out your cup with a frown. "I left it on the step to finish my drawing but it's warm now." You complained. "Give it...here." Victor requested and you passed the cup to him. He pulled out a tube in his arm, shuddering as he did so. With an immediate WHOOSH, the contents in the cup began to freeze. After a couple of seconds, Victor reattached the tube in his arm. "Let it sit for a little in the sun...don't bite it. You'll break your teeth." He passed the cup back to you, your drink now a frozen treat. "Thank you, Mister Freeze!" You smiled cheerfully.

As a child, you told the story of the heartbroken iceman. The world didn't appreciate him and they tucked him away into the cold and the dark, lights blaring red and blue. His fate to he lost like his wife before.

Victor noticed the painting in the art Gallery. It was different to the others, dark yet had the brightest shades of blues. Although it was the note left. The painting was called 'A Timeless Love' painted with shades of blues and greys. A fire red rose in the middle. In the corner of the painting was a message. 'For Nora when her happy ending thaws.' Victor had only mentioned Nora by name a couple of times and to know you still remembered it after all these years. As for his story, Victor assumed you had done some research since. He never knew you by name but remembered the child he told the story of his wife to. The only person he did and that child would be all grown up now.

Scarecrow: Bullying was unfortunately common, and with every year, it seemed those affected get younger and younger. Jonathan knew children could be cruel but wasn't going to stand by and watch as you were pushed to the ground. A boy standing over you and getting ready to throw a nasty punch. Jonathan was quicker, and the other children clambered back. Jonathan grabbed the boy and threw him off of you, much too hard for any child. The boy yelped the heels of his hands and knees skinned. "Do that to them again, and I'll..." Jonathan grabbed the boy by the shirt and whispered in his ear. After a few seconds, the boy cried and pulled away from Jonathan sharply, tears spilling. "Now scram!" Jonathan bellowed at the children who all shrieked and scattered. Jonathan turned back to you and smiled slightly. "Hello, (Y/N)." He reached for your hand and pulled you up as you mumbled your own greeting. "Those mean boys hassling you again?" Jonathan asked as he dusted you off, and you nodded. He bent to your level. "Boys are mean, little (Y/N). You want them to leave you alone." He began and moved your hand into a fist. Pull back and punch them hard in the throat. Understand?" Slowly, you nod, and he grinned. "Hit them in the throat!"

The next you time you saw the Scarecrow was a news report about his arrest. Your parents looked nauseous when you mentioned that was the man who helped you and your friend.

Scarecrow had no idea why this armed guard was grinning at him. They didn't even seem to fear him. They greeted him like an old friend no matter how coldly he spoke to them. Until the guard said something very familiar. "You know an old friend once told me that boys can get really mean and when they do you just gotta punch them in the throat. Best advice I've ever gotten and it still helps me to this day." The guard smiled and Jonathan paused. That was familiar. He looked at the guard in disbelief. That little kid was all grown up now. Even if still very young in his eyes. "You..." Scarecrow said with disbelief. "I'll take you back to your cell, Crane." You smiled warmly. "Some of us still see the human in you."

Two-Face: "Mr Two-Face!" You ran up to him, taking his unscathed hand. "Hey, kid." He replied gruffly. You moved to stand in his way but he quickly tugged you back to his side where his scars couldn't be seen. "You know the rules- you stay on that side." Harvey mumbled. "What are you doing here Mr Two-Face?" You asked eagerly. "Just passing through, kid." Harv'replied. "We had some business to deal with." You caught a glimpse of something in his hand. "What's that?" You tried to peek around him at his other hand which he quickly hid from your view. "Never mind that!" He replied gruffly. "You being good?" You nod frantically. "Yeah!" "Good." He nodded.

You were there when Two-Face was arrested for his latest bank heist. He turned his head catching sight of you, revealing his scarred side. You try to hold in a gasp. It was gruesome for any kid to see. Seeing you had him silent for a moment before he turned away coldly.

Mad Hatter: The temperature began to drop as the season changed. You came from a poor family and so the only solution to the cold was a limited time outside and a hot meal when you were home. In the summer you were allowed out all day long but in the oncoming winter days, you were only allowed out for two hours at most. Just as you were considering going home, the cold getting intolerable, a familiar face headed down the street. "Mr Tetch!" You rushed up to meet him. Jervis jumped before blinking at you in surprise. "Why good evening my young friend!" He grinned. You shivered as the wind blew and Jervis' smile faltered. "You must be cold with such a whimsy jacket!" "I'm okay. I'm going to head home soon." You replied. "Regardless! The time now calls for hats, scarves and gloves, my young friend! It shall not be forgiving if you forget!" Jervis persisted. You shook your head. "I don't have those, sir." You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. Jervis was silent for a moment before he pulled at his scarf. He bent to your level and wrapped it around you. "That won't do! No, not one bit! Here, take mine!" "That's very nice of you, sir." You relaxed, feeling the warmth Jervis had emitted to the scarf. It was enough to slow the effects of the cold. "I have plenty more! Now run along home, my friend!"

Jervis' arrest was very confusing for a child to see but as you got older, you understood better. He wasn't well. He had held a woman hostage, believing she was Alice from Alice in Wonderland. The same woman you saw wrapped in a blanket, sobbing as the police took her out of a nearby basement just a few houses down. The abandoned house specifically. He didn't notice as he rambled incoherently that you were there. A tear rolling down your face.

#request #batman villains #batman #batman scenarios #mister freeze #victor fries #the riddler #edward nygma #scarecrow #jonathan crane #mad hatter #jervis tetch #two face #harvey dent

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aquaquadrant · 11 months

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Hiii question!!!

What would the hels be for each member of the soup group, and what part of the original players do they represent?

I remember we know Pearl's already, but I forgot her name and what trait she is. I think it was something about 5 am Pearl with less chill?

Impulse.. I don't think we've met his yet? My guess just knowing Impulse probably has something to do with pettiness and also untrustworthiness (3rd life)?

And Gem! This is who I was really asking about but I decided to add the rest of the soup group in because why not :) My guess is that it has something relating to Geminislay? I would also assume based on 4+ years of watching her that her hels counterpart would likely being very sarcastic and have very dry humour. Like the rare times Gem pulls the sassy card are always hilarious and I think that hels!Gem should get to speak like that all the time :)

Also would you be okay with me taking this au/universe and writing some of my own stuff using different characters? As of right now I don't think I'll actually post it anywhere, but I have a lot of silly ideas mainly regarding the soup group and empires crew, but since this is you and Lunar's au I wanted to ask first before actually going anywhere with them <3

oooooo ok so first off, absolutely. while i’ve done a lot of worldbuilding for the HTP au, i def don’t own the concept of hels or helsmits- that was a gift bestowed to the fandom by welsknight and my interpretations are just one of many. all i can claim to really own are my original versions of the helsmits, who again, are one of many, and my storyline. so i’ve got no prob w you doing your own thing, and if i did, that’d be pretty unreasonable of me imo.

BUT YES, soup group. so we’ve actually met both pearl and impulse’s hels so far in ‘from eden,’ though only very very briefly. pearl’s hels is opalescentmoth, a giant monstrous moth hybrid who lives in a cave and eats players that come across her. she’s huge and has big fuzzy wings and antennae and multiple arms and massive compound eyes. her defining traits would be unhinged-ness (??? however you’d say it) and silliness. so yup, basically 5 am pearl all the time, but now she’s a man-eating monster.

impulse’s hels was introduced more subtly via a chat convo as instinctEV, atlas’s rival in the redstone business. he’s a demon like impulse is in this au, but with all his demon attributes cranked up to 11. big scary boi. horns, fangs, glowing eyes, forked tongue, forked tail, maybe even some kinda freaky demon legs, the works. but one of instinct’s defining traits is insincerity, so he sorta throws ppl off with his supposedly kind demeanor. in reality he’s more preoccupied with his other defining trait, hyper-efficiency, and only cares about other players so long as he can use them.

now, neither gem nor her hels have showed up in the au so far and probably never will. i do have a vague concept for her tho. i’ve always pictured gem as some variation of deer hybrid, whether it’s just an elf with antlers, a faun, or full-on cervitaur. so her hels is capricornslay, a unicorn hybrid (yes i know the actual capricorn sign is a goat, don’t come for me). i haven’t nailed down her traits, mind you, just the Aesthetic. she’s a centaur with a horn, and she’s like the old-fashioned unicorns on medieval tapestries and the side of vans, all delicate with the cloven hooves and lion-like tail. big ‘the last unicorn’ vibes. but her deceptive beauty and gentleness belies a hidden viciousness. she portrays the dark side of the forest, like that creepy old bog and mossy decay vibe, while gem portrays the light side of the forest, the cheer and vibrancy and life. cottagecore and dark cottagecore, u know the vibes.

#hels to pay au #HTP cast #again these are just my own takes on them #i don’t own the concept of helsmits #so GO NUTS #i’ve been in fandoms before where ppl try to claim a really broad concept or idea #and lemme tell ya it ain’t pretty #so as long as ur not directly ripping off someone’s ideas or straight up plagiarizing then ur fine #it’s totally ok to be inspired by someone else’s work- that’s why fandoms form right?

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mariana-oconnor · 6 months

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The Illustrious Client pt 1

“It can't hurt now,” was Mr. Sherlock Holmes's comment when, for the tenth time in as many years, I asked his leave to reveal the following narrative.

Both Holmes and I had a weakness for the Turkish bath. It was over a smoke in the pleasant lassitude of the drying-room that I have found him less reticent and more human than anywhere else.

Right, yep. That tracks.

I had asked him whether anything was stirring, and for answer he had shot his long, thin, nervous arm out of the sheets which enveloped him...

Is this an actual Sherlock Holmes story, or is it porn? I'm finding it very difficult to tell at this point.

Sir James Damery was announced. It is hardly necessary to describe him, for many will remember that large, bluff, honest personality, that broad, clean-shaven face, and, above all, that pleasant, mellow voice. Frankness shone from his gray Irish eyes, and good humour played round his mobile, smiling lips. His lucent top-hat, his dark frock-coat, indeed, every detail, from the pearl pin in the black satin cravat to the lavender spats over the varnished shoes, spoke of the meticulous care in dress for which he was famous. The big, masterful aristocrat dominated the little room.

"It is hardly necessary to describe him." - proceeds to wax lyrican for 4 lengthy sentences.

Also, Watson is getting horny on main for this masterful aristocratic dom. This story is already so horny.

My mind is a bit stuck on the lavender spats, though. That is a definite choice.

“Of course, I was prepared to find Dr. Watson,” he remarked with a courteous bow. “His collaboration may be very necessary, for we are dealing on this occasion, Mr. Holmes, with a man to whom violence is familiar and who will, literally, stick at nothing. I should say that there is no more dangerous man in Europe."

Nice that he already knows about Watson, though. Strange how many people turn up and don't know who Watson is in spite of Watson writing all these stories.

“I have had several opponents to whom that flattering term has been applied,” said Holmes with a smile.

Haven't you, though?

“Mr. Holmes, I must beg you not to press that question. It is important that I should be able to assure him that his honoured name has been in no way dragged into the matter."

People in the early 20th century need to sort out their priorities. How often have we had a rich client that doesn't want to tell anyone anything because of SCANDAL, but they still want their problem solved, don't they?

“He has a daughter, Violet de Merville, young, rich, beautiful, accomplished, a wonder-woman in every way. It is this daughter, this lovely, innocent girl, whom we are endeavouring to save from the clutches of a fiend.”

What is it with girls called Violet? The others, iirc, were at least pretty smart and on the ball. Hopefully this one will be too. It's an ill-fated name in these stories, though.

Colonel Damery needs to chill out about her, though. He's getting a little excessive.

Can't believe I only just noticed he's a colonel. And he doesn't appear to be the bad guy. Will wonders never cease? Maybe ACD overcame his prejudices.

"She dotes upon him; she is obsessed by him. Outside of him there is nothing on earth. She will not hear one word against him. Everything has been done to cure her of her madness, but in vain. To sum up, she proposes to marry him next month. As she is of age and has a will of iron, it is hard to know how to prevent her.”

Guys... I think maybe you've got to let her marry him. I know he murdered his last wife and all, but there comes a point where you've just got to accept that people don't want your help.

Clearly I'm not in a very generous mood today. Lol.

"My client, however, is an old friend, one who has known the General intimately for many years and taken a paternal interest in this young girl since she wore short frocks."

Oh, it's her gay dad. OK. That makes sense.

"I rather fancy that Shinwell Johnson might be a help.” I have not had occasion to mention Shinwell Johnson in these memoirs because I have seldom drawn my cases from the latter phases of my friend's career.

New character alert.

...but as he dealt with cases which never came directly into the courts, his activities were never realized by his companions.

I really hope he's already dead, because if he's not I bet his companions are about to realise his activities pretty damn quick.

“Who knows, Watson? Woman's heart and mind are insoluble puzzles to the male. Murder might be condoned or explained, and yet some smaller offence might rankle."

"He has breeding in him—a real aristocrat of crime, with a superficial suggestion of afternoon tea and all the cruelty of the grave behind it."

Love this line.

“‘Excuse my amusement, Mr. Holmes,’ said he, ‘but it is really funny to see you trying to play a hand with no cards in it. I don't think anyone could do it better, but it is rather pathetic, all the same. Not a colour card there, Mr. Holmes, nothing but the smallest of the small.’"

Why do these villains always insist on acting like villains? Surely it's always better to pretend not to be a villain until the last possible moment.

"'You have heard of post-hypnotic suggestion, Mr. Holmes? Well, you will see how it works, for a man of personality can use hypnotism without any vulgar passes or tomfoolery.'"

He's literally just coming out with 'she's hypnotised btw'??

Holmes came in with no cards and you're just telling him everything, huh?

And then a direct threat? Twirl your moustaches, my man. Why not laugh maniacally while you're at it.

IMPORTANT ADDITION FROM THE SECRETARIAL CAT: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggyhhfd

hhhhhhegwuyikkkkkkkkkkl;;pppppppp

#Letters from Watson #The Illustrious Client #Sherlock Holmes #long post

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writing-house-of-m · 2 years

Text

Sweet Nightmare

Wanda x Reader

Genre: Fluff (I guess...?)

Warnings: Me attempting to be funny

Word count: 1512

Summary: You help Wanda after she has a nightmare. She doesn't expect what will happen the next morning.

A/N: This was a fun prompt that was sent and can be found here. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it lol

Wanda feels strange.

Warm.

Too warm.

Her bed feels firmer.

Opening her eyes, she doesn't recognise her surroundings.

One thought in her mind, "Where am I?"

It is dark, just a subtle light behind her, and she is scared, "Y/n?"

No response.

Her voice is shaky now. "Y/n? Please answer me." Nothing but silence greets her.

She lowers her voice due to her fear "Where are you?" But still, there is no response.

Even though Wanda feels like she is speaking, it's as though she can't hear her own words. All that is reaching her ears is the sound of a heavy wind.

She looks over to her right.

Then to her left.

There is brown goo on either side of her.

Fear courses through her veins. She tries to get up, tries to move, tries to do anything.

But she can't.

She is stuck, uncomfortable and confused. How could you leave her alone like this?

Suddenly there is light.

The harshness forces her to close her eyes.

She hears the opening of a door. A moment later the whole bed starts to move.

The temperature drops. Wanda realises she is now out of her room but still struggles to open her eyes.

She can hear a scraping noise.

Until it abruptly stops.

Another scrape.

Again and again.

Getting closer and closer.

She opens her eyes, now that they are fully adjusted to the light in the bright room, and blue takes over her vision.

Thinking to herself "What the hell is happening?" She feels like she is in a daze.

Her mind finally catches up to what she is seeing. She's so confused but her fear has her locked in.

The figure lifts her up and finally speaks. The voice sounds animated, childish, "Me eat cookies!" It exclaims as the blue being brings her closer to its mouth.

Wanda feels like she is moving in slow motion.

She wants to scream.

She wants you.

She wants to shout out for you.

But nothing.

All she sees is her end as she gets closer to the abyss she is approaching.

She hears a growl and what sounds like laughter as she enters the darkness.

Next she feels a pressure across her body, the crunching sound of her breaking-

Suddenly she sits up in bed. The room is dark again and she is sweating and shaking.

The sudden movement wakes you, "Wanda?" You ask but all you hear is Wanda's erratic breathing.

A nightmare.

You spring into action and sit up. "Wanda! You're ok! You're ok!" You take her face in your hands and try to get her to look at you. "Shh Wanda, you're ok."

"Y/n," She whimpers, as she leans into your embrace.

You stroke her hair and rub a hand up and down her back, trying to calm her tense muscles, "I'm here Wanda, it's ok. Everything is fine."

You quickly get some water for her and once she is done drinking you place the glass beside your bed.

When she finally calms down, getting a grip on reality she explains what happened in her dream.

You're trying everything in your being to not laugh. "So, you.." you clear your throat, "were a cookie… in Cookie Monster's oven?"

She can see you struggling to keep a straight face, "It's not funny Y/n!" She lightly slaps your arm. "He bit into me and I was scared and you weren't there!" She rushes out. Her eyes start to water again and you feel bad.

It's funny.

But she needs you.

"Oh honey, it wasn't real and I'm right here." You sympathise, kissing her temple and bringing her into your arms once again.

She whispers into your chest, "I didn't know where you were." Your heart breaks but you can't help but find humour in how ridiculous it is.

Maybe you'll be able to laugh about it in the morning.

…

Wanda walks into the kitchen and sees you sitting with your coffee in front of you. Steve handed you a report when he saw you at breakfast time, so you busied yourself reading it.

You didn't wake Wanda when you got out of bed. Considering she didn't sleep much throughout the night, you wanted to let her sleep longer this morning.

As she gets closer you swivel your stool around to accommodate her walking towards you. "You weren't there when I woke up," She pouts as she presses her body to yours.

You give her a soft smile when she pulls away, loosening your hold around her waist. "I figured you could do with a bit more sleep," You explain as you give her a peck on the lips.

Moving out of your seat to give her space, you tell her, "Sit down sweetheart, I'll make your coffee," kissing the crown of her head once she's seated and you move away.

While you're making her coffee Natasha walks in. From her damp hair and flushed cheeks you know she's done with her morning workout she was telling you about earlier.

As you make your way back to Wanda to hand her the coffee mug, you furrow your eyebrows and give Nat a slight shake of your head when you see her smirking.

Nat goes to the coffee maker while you catch Wanda up with the mission brief you've been familiarising yourself with.

A moment later, Nat brings over a plate and nonchalantly asks, "Would you like a cookie, Wanda?"

Wanda, slightly taken aback, shakes her head, "No thank you." When she sees the smirk on Nat's face she turns to look at you and your wide-eyed stare is all she needs.

Wanda sighs and deflates in her seat, "You told her?!" She whines as her face scrunches up cutely.

You go to take Wanda's hand in yours but she pulls away, "Baby, it's Nat! She always knows." But Wanda gives you a look while the Black Widow sniggers behind you both, munching on a cookie.

"Look, it's not my fault, she asked about you and why you weren't awake yet." You rush out.

"So this is my fault?" Wanda says with a frown.

"No! No, that's not what I'm saying," it's your turn to deflate. "What I'm saying is that she asked and when I told her you didn't sleep properly, she got it out of me." You sigh, "I'm sorry honey, but it was just Nat. She knows everything!"

"So, just Natasha knows. Ok. That's fine." She breathes out, relieved. If Tony or, even worse, Sam knew about this, she'd never hear the end of it.

Her relief is short-lived because she sees the grimace on your face and Natasha's continuous chuckles serve as the soundtrack of this whole conversation.

"I didn't know they were all listening!" You let out, "I should have caught on with how quiet it was for breakfast time."

As if it couldn't get any worse, you hear, "Aww the little cookie's finally awake!" The man's voice booms across the compound.

You close your eyes and lower your head.

He was nowhere near done and you both knew this. "Was the dream the aftermath of some bedroom activities we shouldn't ask about?" He laughs loudly.

You bring your eyes up to Wanda and see she's clenching her teeth. The hard look on her face as well as the movement of her jaw, clearly showing her annoyance.

But Tony continues for Sam "Does this make Y/n, Cookie Monster?" He winces and then pretends to shiver, "I do not need that visual."

Even Steve couldn't stop a breathy laugh from escaping.

You turn your head to look at the Captain catching your movement from the corner of his eye, he meets your glare, "Alright, alright, that's enough." He says to calm everyone down.

"But I didn't get a chance to say one." Clint whines.

You hear Bucky's voice from behind you, "Would you like a cookie, Wanda?" He says lifting the plate from the counter as he chews on one.

While the boy's laughter continues. Nat clarifies to him, "Too slow big boy, I already said that one," she claims, sipping her coffee afterwards.

"I'm going to go with that for being the reason she didn't react." Bucky says as he moves off the counter to go take a seat.

You hear Wanda's sharp voice, cutting through the laughter, "Is everyone done?" The quiet is so sudden, "Can I get back to my coffee and this mission brief?" She looks around to everyone.

There's a low grumble, some nodding heads as everyone carries on with what they need to do.

Finally, you think it's over but suddenly you hear, "OM NOM NOM!"

You look over at Sam and see him curl over laughing. A second later red tendrils push him over so that he falls on his face.

The cookies from the plate, offered by Natasha and Bucky, crushed into crumbs and sprinkled on him for good measure.

If there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's to not piss off a sleep deprived witch.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #mcu reader insert #sweet nightmare tag

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spnexploration · 1 year

Text

Collared part 30

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean tries to teach you to use an angel blade.

Warnings: none particularly

Word count: 1.4k

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 29 <- -> Part 31

“Are you still looking for Azaneth?” you asked the next morning at breakfast, sitting on your cushion on the floor.

“Yes,” Dean answered honestly. “Something on your mind?”

“Umm, I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Sweetheart, I ain't intending for you to see him unless he's safely restrained. We don't need to put you through that again.”

You nodded. “I, umm, I’d still like to know.”

He studied your face for a second. He wondered if your hesitation was because you were worried about his reaction, worried about Azaneth, or something else. Then he thought that maybe it was just because you were asking for something for yourself, which always seemed hard for you. “Ok, I’ll teach you.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

---

Dean took you to the gym. “Alright, this is an angel blade. Kills angels and demons. Maybe some other stuff too, but that’s not the point. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He handed it to you, handle first. “Alright, swish it around a little, get a feel for the weight.” You did so, and immediately dropped it. It clattered to the floor. You squealed and jumped back, trying to avoid cutting off your own toes. “Christ,” he muttered.

“Sorry, the handle was slippery!”

“It’s called a hilt, not a handle. Maybe we should start with something a little less sharp or you’re going to end up with no feet. I’ll be back, gonna see if we have practice daggers or something.”

He eventually came back with two plastic kids toy swords. “These are from a time we had to dress up and sneak into a Halloween party. We’ll have to find something a bit weightier another time, but for now we can practise some moves.”

He taught you a few basic blocking moves, but you could tell you weren’t very good. You felt dispirited, depressed that you couldn’t even hold a blade much less wield one.

“Hey, hey,” Dean interrupted your thoughts. “None of that. I can see you getting all up in your head. You’re not doing badly, you’re just not used to it. You do not go to one swimming lesson and the next minute bring home a Michael Phelps medal haul from the Olympics. Same thing for ganking monsters.”

You smiled weakly, appreciating his attempts at humour but struggling to get out of your emotions.

“Come on, Bambi, I’ll let you pick what’s for dinner.”

---

You had to expect it. You’d been the one to bring up Azaneth that day, after all. So when the nightmares came again that night, you only had yourself to blame.

You shivered in your blanket on the floor. You couldn’t shake the image of him towering over you, ready to strike. Even better, now your subconscious had helpfully added the imagery of you dropping the angel blade the instant you held it. Thanks for the vote of confidence, self.

You tried to lie down again, but every time you closed your eyes you saw him. You were so very alone.

Tears sprung to your eyes.

You thought about your options. You didn’t want to go drinking again. That hadn’t really helped last time anyway. Dean had told you to wake him up if you had a nightmare, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of doing it. It was too embarrassing, too personal, too… much.

You gathered your blanket and pillow and headed to the corridor. You needed to be able to hear them, to feel less alone.

You found your spot in front of Dean’s door. You could hear his light snoring, his movement. It was reassuring, there was someone else around. Someone who knew exactly how to fight demons.

You curled up and fell asleep.

---

Sam turned down the corridor to his room and stopped in his tracks. You were curled up, with a blanket and pillow, against Dean’s door. His heart broke for you.

He crept back around the corner and pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up Dean on the speed dial.

“Wasswrong?” Dean slurred after the second ring. Sam heard the faint click of a gun and knew Dean was getting ready to come charging out.

“Shh,” Sam said. “It’s nothing dangerous.”

“Ok. Why’d you wake me up then?”

“Y/N is asleep outside your door.”

“What?”

“She’s curled up, on the floor. Against your door. I think she’s done it before, I’ve seen her going into her room with a blanket first thing in the morning before.”

“Oh man, poor kid. Alright, thanks.”

---

Dean put his gun back under his pillow, his phone on the bedside table, and then crossed quietly to the door. He gently eased it open, not sure if you’d be leaning against it, but it didn’t feel any heavier.

You looked so peaceful in your sleep, but it was heartbreaking that you were doing so on the floor in the corridor. Something must’ve upset you to bring you out here. He wished you felt comfortable enough to just wake him up when you were upset, instead of trying to find your own coping mechanisms. Still, he’d take finding you sleeping in weird places over finding you drunk at 8:30am.

He crouched down and gently touched your shoulder. “Heya, Bambi,” he said quietly.

Your eyes flew open. He dropped his hand, worried at the panicked look on your face.

“Sorry for waking you up, but it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re ok.”

You seemed to take a deep breath and then nodded, the wild look in your eyes gone now that you had worked out he was no threat.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” You bit your lip and looked at the ground. He guessed you were embarrassed. “It’s ok, I just want to make sure you’re ok.” You still didn’t respond. “Was it another nightmare?”

You nodded, once.

“Does it make you feel better to sleep out here rather than in your room?”

You nodded again.

“Do you want to come sleep in my room? Or in Sammy’s?” You brought your knees to your chest and buried your head in them. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m sorry if I scared you, but I thought it might be better than sleeping in the corridor.”

You paused, and then gave a tiny nod.

“Ok, you nod for which one you want. Sammy’s room? My room?” You nodded slightly when he said his room. “Ok sweetheart, let’s get you set up. We can make this more comfy than a blanket on the floor.”

He quickly went to your room and gathered some of the bedding he’d put in there for you, bringing it back to his room. “Now, just because I moved this stuff doesn’t mean you have to stay in here. If at any point you want me to move it back, or take it to Sam’s, or take it anywhere else in the bunker, you just tell me. You can wake me up if you need. I won’t mind at all.”

You trailed after him into his room, clutching your pillow to your chest. The blanket dangled down onto the floor from where it was clutched in one hand. He wanted to gather you in his arms and hug you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that, and he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were.

“Do you want to be closer to the door or further away?” You nodded to further away, so he took your bedding the other side of his bed. He set it all up for you, trying to make it as comfortable as possible.

“Is that ok?”

You nodded again, before saying very quietly, “Thank you.”

“Any time, sweetheart. Now, if my snoring annoys you, or if anything at all happens, you wake me up, ok?”

You seemed hesitant to move, so he turned around and started to climb back into bed, hoping that you’d be more confident without him watching your every move. It worked. Once you seemed settled in your bedding, he asked, “Do you want me to leave the lamp on or turn it off?”

“Off, please,” you mumbled.

“Ok, good night, Bambi.”

---

You lay in the dark, listening to Dean’s breathing. You felt so much better to be in here, with him between you and the door and his reassuring sounds that you weren’t alone.

You drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

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alwayschasingrainbows · 4 months

Note

Whats your fav LMM novel? Please rank from the most you like to the least you like. Thank you 😊.cn.

Thank you for this question! First of all, I am very sorry it took me so long to answer, but I have to say it was a difficult choice for me (Sophie's choice, one might even say).

Before I start, I want to give a little disclaimer: there are some books I haven't read in ages. For example, I was the biggest fan of Anne series back in the days - I read Anne of Green Gables at the age of 8 and I remember loving it so much.

But then, I read other Montgomery's novels and loved them... even more. While Anne's books are still close to my heart, I haven't read them in years, while I still keep coming back to other books. That is something I should definitely change - if I reread Anne series (and Maud's other books) and my rating changes, I'll make a new list!

That being said, Anne of Green Gables is definitely the most iconic Montgomery's book - it is a beautiful, heart-warming tale of coming of age - and Anne herself is the most iconic female character Montgomery had ever created.

Ok, the disclaimer was very long, but I needed to make things clear, for Anne series is only listed as fourth - but not because I don't enjoy it, but because I need to reread it...

Oh, and another thing: I only included the novels, not short stories.

Emily of New Moon trilogy - my absolute favourite. I know many people have issues with these books and I understand this. Still, that's my number one. I must say I was not too satisfied with an ending of Emily Climbs (2nd book) and the last chapter of Emily's Quest (3rd) seems very rushed (although I like the way it ended... generally). All three have the first place ex aequo.

The Blue Castle - very close second. I love this book so much. In my opinion, Valarney is the best romance Maud had ever written. It is a lovely book - full of humour and fantastic characters; the one I keep coming back to each time I need a little cheering up. It never fails to do so. But oh, poor Cissy...

Rilla of Ingleside - it is probably the saddest book Montgomery ever wrote, but it is just so beautiful. Rilla is the heroine that goes through the biggest inner change... My favourite things about this book were: Rilla and Jims's relationship and Rilla's development. I wasn't into the romance there, tbh. Also... Walter... (tearing up).

Anne series - I will rank the books from my most to less favourite among the series: Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Island, Anne of Avonlea, Anne of Windy Poplars, Anne of Ingleside, Rainbow Valley, Anne's House of Dreams, The Blythes Are Quoted. That being said, I really liked all of them, but I still can't get over Joy (that's why AHoD is so low. I mostly like reading about Anne pre-motherhood, even though I also adore all her children... I know, I just contradicted myself...).

Story Girl and Golden Road - I adore stories about childhood friendships and this one doesn't fail! The only sad thing - Cecily's fate :(. But truth be told, I got the impression that the King children acted a bit young for their age... on the other hand, maybe that's the way things used to be in the past.

Jane of Lantern Hill - another great book! Jane is very different from other Montgomery's heroines - she's so practical! I adore her as a character.

Magic for Marigold - I remember loving this book, but... I haven't read it in ages. I need to change that.

Tangled Web - I have some issues with the book (the racism, marrying close relatives etc.). But on the whole, I enjoyed it. I liked some stories more, some less... and one can get lost among all these Darks and Penhallows (I always get their last names wrong, even though there are only two choices!).

Pat of Silver Bush and Mistress Pat - another series I haven't read in ages. But I wasn't too fond of these books as a child - I couldn't understand Pat too well... But I really liked Hilary. I think I should give the series another try someday... maybe I'll like them more now.

Kilmeny of The Orchard - the only Montgomery's book that I dislike... no sparkling humor. No lovable characters. Ideal Kilmeny... stuck up Eric... and the awful references towards Italians. No sir, thank you. Not me.

Ok, that's my list. I feel the need to say that I find all of Montgomery's books delightful. Even Kilmeny of The Orchard had some lovely descriptions of the nature...

I truly hope that I haven't offended anyone. I am really curious what other Montgomery's fans rating would be...

Again, thank you for this question!!!!

#lm montgomery #emily of new moon #anne of green gables #tangled web #the blue castle #pat of silver bush #magic for marigold #story girl #kilmeny of the orchard #montgomery's books

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dimdiamond · 2 months

Note

Your dungeon meshi propaganda has worked I need to read about the living armor lmao. But I've never read a manga before, where/how do I do that? Can you give a noob some advice, please and thanks!

OMG I DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO MAKE PROPAGANDA (ok maybe I did but you know it wasn't really trying to, I am just bit of crazy about it) BUT I'M SO HAPPY YOU WANT TO GIVE IT A CHANCE!!!

Just preparing you, Dungeon Meshi is about food and monsters and AMAZING world building but is also dark and full of heavy themes and moments and its comedy is mostly based on black humour (and visual gags of course because that's what comics do) so if you're ok with these then absolutely go ahead 👏

So, if I understood correctly, you have never read manga and you're not sure how to read them or where to find them. Well, for starters, manga is the name we use for the comics made in Japan but nowadays manga has ended up being attributed mostly to the style of these comics (for example there are manga made in France). What makes manga unique though is the way of reading. Contrary to the western comics, Japanese are read from right to left and the speech bubbles follow the same logic. For example these are two pages of the first chapter of Dungeon Meshi, how they are originally and my guides so you can see them side by side:

As you can see there's no difference from the classic comics except the direction of reading. Years ago, when manga started to be distributed outside Japan, the publishing companies thought the best way to make them easier to read for the western audience was to print them opposite, like a mirror. Of course, this led to many misunderstandings and later the companies just added a reminder in the first page that "you reading the wrong way! Go to the last page!" and had guides similar to the ones I made now. Not gonna lie, at first it's kinda hard to get used to this way of reading but very soon you'll get so accustomed that automatically you'll read right to left once you spot a manga page.

As for where you can read it, there are many sites where you can read it for free (🏴‍☠️ is vital for all manga readers/anime watchers, believe me). You can google "dungeon meshi read online" and you'll get many results. Some good sites for manga are mangadex, mangahasu, mangakakalot, mangago etc. and you can even find apps (beware of adds and an app like that should be free, if there's charge either it's the official Crunchyroll or a fraud). However, I totally recommend buying at least one volume of the official release of a manga you loved, the feeling of the printed paper in your hand is something else.

Hope these help and if you need help with anything else or talk about Dungeon Meshi or even any manga recommendations, feel free to ask or dm me!

#as you can see i am a weeb lol #i am so happy you want to read dungeon meshi #it's a very fun and interesting story with many hilarious moments but also angst and a bit of gore and such #and it's a story that the characters can't be read as straight you know despite not explicitly saying x is queer #AND NO FORCED STRAIGHT ROMANCE OR COUPLE BY THE END AND I'M SO RELIEVED FOR THIS #so queer and neurodivergent characters for the win #anyway have fun!!!#dungeon meshi

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jawabear · 1 year

Note

Hi 👋🏻 how are you?

I was wondering if I could drop in a cheeky request please with soap if that's OK?

Soap meeting reader for the first time on a mission (maybe new member of the team? ) and being completely blown away by how bad ass they are. He starts declaring to all the other boys that he's gonna marry the reader and ghost just being like 'you dont stand a chance' 😂 😊

I'm loving all your COD works, looking forward to future fics!

Hope you have a lovely day 😊💛

Not my GIF

One day

Johnny “Soap” Mctavish x Reader

A/N: this is my first time writing for Johnny and i hope i got his character right? i rewrote this like four times because i couldn't get a good story going. But i hope you like this? for anyone who isnt from England, Spoons is the place to be.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: drinking, drunk soap, mention of injury, hint of past bad relationships, bit of angst i guess

Summary: Soap is set. He's ready. But he's drunk.

“You haven’t got a hope in hell” Gaz laughed obnoxiously loudly at Soap’s confession.

“I’m going to marry her one day” Soap had said. Perhaps it was the buzz of his countless beers that made him say it, but even in that drunk state, he knew his words rang true. He was utterly enthralled by you. He had been since the first time he saw you out on the field.

He was completely captured by the way you moved so flawlessly through the filed, never missing a shot, never missing a hit, never stepping a foot out of place. You were relatively new to the military. He and the rest of 141 had been briefed on new comers that would be joining them as a back up squad on one of their missions. Johnny wasn’t expecting much from them being new and all. But he was pleasantly surprised but the majority of them. They all handled themselves with such precision and perfection. None caught his eye quite the same as you did though.

He had been so distracted by the way you practically danced on the battle field, dodging bullets and rubble as if it had all been choreographed for years, that he failed to notice the bullet hurtling towards him.

“Get down Sergeant!” You screamed as you tackled him to the ground. The bullet whistling over head and embedding itself into a nearby tree. “Are you alright, sir?” You panted as you pushed yourself off him, hovering over him, looking into those beautifully bright blue eyes.

He looked…well, it was hard to say how he looked with the chaos around you both. Perhaps it was shock of nearly getting shot, or maybe surprise that you had tackled him to save him. “Sir?” You questioned again. He wasn’t sir. Not to anyone, so not to you even if you were basically a recruit.

“Call me Johnny” he flashed you a smile. It brought you a strange sense of comfort in a literal war zone. You smiled back at him and nodded.

“Then call me (Y/N)” you said. The two of you remained side by side for the rest of the mission. He knew then what he knows now.

“I am going to marry her” he slurred as he set his now empty beer bottle on the sticky pub table. He sounded like a pouting child. His cheek flushed from alcohol making him look even more like a sulking child who was told he can’t be superman for halloween.

“I can’t say I’m convinced by this” Price said setting down his half drunk glass of scotch. Price didn’t really get drunk, it never aided him and often lead to him making terrible decisions. He and Ghost were mostly sober while Gaz and Soap drunk their body weight combined in beer, whiskey and whatever else they could get their hands on. Good thing they weren’t going back in the field for a while. It would probably take a week for their hangovers to pass.

Soap let out a burp and spotted you at the bar. You were telling to Laswell, a smile on your face as Kate laughed at something you undoubtedly said. Johnny loved your humour, it was dark and almost dry, similar to Ghost but you knew your audience. Unlike Ghost.

“Gonna ask her now” he declared as he pushed himself off his seat. He wobbled on his feet and Gaz laughed. He was the laughing kind of drunk.

“That’s not a good idea Johnny” Ghost warned, shaking his head to his friend. Johnny just shrugged and stumbled his way over to the bar, over to you.

He basically fell in between you and Kate, interrupting whatever you were talking about. “You look terrible” Kate chuckled as she pushed him to stand straight.

“(Y/N)” he almost whined as he fell on you. You laughed and grabbed his shoulders to push him upright again.

“Johnny, are you alright?”

“‘M fine” he gave you a lazy smile.

“You’re clearly drunk”

“On you” he said “marry me”

Kate choked on her drink, spitting it over the back of Johnny’s jacket. “What?!” You yell a little loudly. A few people turning to face you, but luckily, it was rugby night, most of the pub goers were cheering at the tv in the far corner of the pub.

“Marry me” he said again. A little more firmly.

You let out a nervous laugh and patted his shoulders. “I’m flattered, really. But no, Johnny”

“Why?” He definitely whined this time. And pouted.

“Because, we’re not even dating. And you’re drunk. Very drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying”

“Then date me. I want to marry you” he pleaded. If it weren’t for you holding him up by his shoulders, you bet he would’ve been begging on his knees for you to marry him. A ridiculous idea. But it was endearing to say the least.

You couldn’t deny your feelings for the Scot. You feel for his humour, his kind nature, those beautiful blue eyes, just everything. It was an unexpected crush, but it was the best feeling.

You gave him a gentle and reassuring smile “ask me again when your sober and know what you’re saying”

Before he could response with something most likely ridiculous, an arm wrapped under his shoulders and pulled him away from you. You looked to see Ghost. Price was next to him, carting Gaz in his arms. Gaz was laughing like a mad man while pointing at Soap.

“He’s a whiny drunk” Ghost muttered. You let out a soft laugh.

“Make sure to look after them, don’t let them drink any more” you told them. Ghost nodded and the four soldiers left the bar.

You struggled to draw your eyes away from the doorway that they left through. You replayed the moment in your head. Thinking of his words and wondering if he did mean them or if it was just the alcohol talking. But even if it was, why would he come to you in a bar full of beautiful women? Unless it was a dare? It would explain why Gaz was laughing so much. But they all knew about your feelings for Soap. Even drunk, you knew Gaz wouldn’t betray you like that.

“That was something” Kate muttered returning from what you guessed was the bathroom after cleaning her face from her spat out drink.

You turned to look at her, straightening your posture. Kate also knew how you felt about Johnny, but you didn’t like to talk about it. You had ben burned too many times in the past by boyfriends. You didn’t want to go through anything like that again, especially not in this profession. Especially not with someone as amazing as Johnny.

“Yes” was all you muttered as you circled the rim of your glass.

“You should’ve said yes”

“We’re not even dating” you argued weakly.

“Exactly. So you should’ve said yes. He asked you to date him after, right?”

You didn’t respond at first, replaying that exact moment in your head. “Then date me. I want to marry you”

“He was drunk” you responded eventually. Kate shrugged and took a sip of her newly refiled drink.

“Even if he wasn’t, would you say yes?”

That was the question.

Hangover didn’t even come close to describing what Johnny was going through. Being shot hurt less than this. His head pounded as he weakly held his hand out to cover the window. The curtains had been opened and the morning sun was pouring in. Damn these east facing rooms. He knew Simon had drawn the curtains back to spite him for getting so drunk and probably keeping him up most of the night. He was sure that Simon would now want to swap rooms with Gaz. Leave the two drunkards to sort themselves out.

Soap dropped his hand after his failed attempt to block out the sun and knocked something on the bedside table. He squinted to see what it was. A glass of water, two painkillers and a note that read in capitals: SORT YOURSELF OUT. SPOONS AT 12. He looked to the clock beside the note and saw it was 11:32. Johnny groaned and flopped his head back to the pillow. “Fuckin’ christ” he swore to himself.

He had to get up. Sooner rather than later. As much as he would’ve loved to lay in the comfort of the hotel bed all day, he still had to be a member of society unfortunately. Yes, it was a holiday week for 141 and others but they still needed to represent their force. Johnny wasn’t doing a good job at that in bed.

At exactly 12:14, he was ready to head to the whetherspoons downstairs, mentally prepared for the bollocking for being late to lunch, and for getting in such a state last night.

As he was walking to the lift, a memory hit him like a brick to the face. “Marry me” he heard his voice in his head.

“I’m flattered, really. But no Johnny”

“Oh fuck” he groaned to himself as he buried his face in his hands. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot Johnny”

The members of 141 were hesitant on letting Soap go to the bar alone. After the previous night, they didn’t want him to get into trouble or say something else he would regret. But he insisted he would only have one drink. He didn’t eat to recreate what he had already done.

He sat the the bar nursing his first and only beer, half drunk. He was taking it slow. He hadn’t see you so far and was hoping he’d be able to dodge you until the whole thing blew over and you forgot about it. He didn’t know what he would say to you if he did see you. He would probably blurt out a pathetic apology and welcome the slap from you and the fact you never wanted him to speak to you again. He would accept that. Anything to save him from awkward confrontation.

But there was something else that rung in his mind.

“Ask me when you’re sober” you had said to him, a sweet and sincere smile on your face. Had you meant that? Did you want him to ask you out, or were you just humouring him?

“Don’t drink to much tonight, who knows what could happen” came a teasing voice behind him. He didn’t need to turn to see who it was, and he didn’t want to turn. He didn’t want to face you. But he couldn’t just leave.

“Just having one” he muttered to you as you sat on the stool next to him and ordered your drink.

“A wise choice” you nodded “how are you feeling?”

Johnny picked at the label of the bottle. He couldn’t look at you. He was too embarrassed. To scared that he would say something stupid (again) and push you away from him forever. He didn’t want to loose you but he didn’t know how to fix his problem. “Alright” he muttered.

“That’s good” you said. It was awkward for you both. The rowdiness of the bar only making the silence between you louder. “About last night-“

“I’m sorry” he buttered out. Just like he knew he would “it was stupid. So stupid. I didn’t mean to say any of that. I was drunk and things happen when people are drunk. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and I understand if you hate me now”

You laughed. Laughed. The laugh caused him to lift his gaze to you. Why were you laughing?

“I don’t hate you, Johnny” you said when your laughter subsided. “It would take more than a marriage proposal for me to hate you. It’s okay”

“Wh-“ he was stunned, “seriously? But I…it was wrong”

“Yes. But it’s fine. Like you said you were drunk” your face fell. He noticed that. But he didn’t know why “you didn’t mean any of what you said”

“Ask me again when your sober”

Oh. Was that why? Did you feel the same?

“Did…did you want me…to mean it?” He said slowly. He was being cautious now. He didn’t want to read the situation wrong and make things worse. But, how could it get any worse?

There was a silence again between you both. A silence that went on and on as you both fiddled with your drinks.

“Yes” you almost whispered. He didn’t know how he heard you with your quiet voice and the loud club around you. Maybe it was because he was hanging on to anything you had to offer him. Anything to help him climb out of this hole he had dug himself.

He looked to you. You looked at your drink as if it were the secrets of the universe. Your eyes looked glassy. Were you about to cry? Why? Was he not meant to hear you?

“Which part?” He but in quickly. You looked at him in shock. This lead him to believe that he wasn’t meant to hear you. You blinked at him a few times and swallowed. “You wanted me to ask you again. Ask you to…date me. Did you want me to mean that?” You slowly nodded. It was a shallow nod, but it was enough for him. “I did. I did mean what I said. I just didn’t mean to say it then”

He turned on the stool and reached to take your hand in his. “Will you date me? Do you want to be with me?”

You nodded again. The nod deeper this time. Your eyes getting wetter but a smile rising on your lips. “yes. I want to be with you”

He smiled to and squeezed your hand, “good. Because all I want is you. Forever. One day, I will ask you to marry me”

“And that day, I will say yes”

12/2/23

#johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #fluff #modern warfare 2 #fanfic

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