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literally-noone83 · 7 months ago

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Breathe Easy

Draken x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Draken comes by your place at night only to find out you've been stuck in a household full of screaming and yelling.

A/n: Another short oneeee. Writing juice on low. But I hope you like this comfort fic. Also of you have any requests or ideas for fics please send them in, I'd happy to look at it. Might spark a new writing piece or if I like it enough, I'll write what you suggest :)) Ok enjoy! ALSO, can't reply to comments yet. But to the love given for my Loki fic THANK YOUUUU.

He saunters down dampened roads and over the faint, flickering spots of light from streetlights that buzzed softly. Slanted and with the lingering smell of rust and rain, it marked the neglect of these metropolitan roads. He breezes through the long alleyways and the small spaces between brick walls where every ounce of light is evaporated under the high moon. Only the rare silouhette passes by in his distance or the echoe of reving cars.

His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he wandered through the blocks of apartments, and dingey homes sat on the outskirts of the city. He knew them like the back of his hand. Needn't stop once or look over his shoulder. He can hear the crisp air whistle in his ear and every mile away car. Even if he was to be attacked it wasn't an issue to Toman's vice-leader.

His nerves rest easy. All that's on his mind is getting to where he needed to be.

Nearing the apartment complexes that sit almost side by side, he made his way over to one of the windows just above the ground. Lined on the floor, there were the partial basement housings. His eyes glided over the dirtied cement, the way the barred widows glisten with droplets that run down its faces. Many of them had its curtains drawn. It was midnight after all. Everyone should be asleep but amidst the lot, his eyes flickered with familiarity at the one that was never fully drawn at this hour. A warm glow from a lamp he knew kissed the edges of the lower window as he drew near.

Naturally the end of his lip curve up softly at the sight. He stops at the foot of it before crouching down, beside your window into your room. He tilts his head to see you at your desk beside that small lamp as expected. However... his eyes peered over your slouched figure upon not textbooks upon textbooks but rather a comic. Strange, he thought.

Casually, he leans forward and knocks on your window. He watched your head snap towards him in somewhat of a shock. He noticed the way your eyes don't light up or the way you don't instantly smile. Instead, you're quick to move over to him and pull the window open before sitting back down.

"I thought you had patrol." You go back to the comic you left open. His smile has long disappeared.

"Finished... thought you'd be studying." He hums lowly. On cue a loud thud ricochet off the wall followed by barking voice of anger that overlapped one another.

Furrowed brows etch his complexion with worry as his eyes instantly dart over to your unflinching self. You continued to stare at your comic. With the way your eyes were distilled upon the animated drawings, he wondered how long you've been re-reading that same page.

"Couldn't think..." You finally murmur.

He let's out a silent sigh. "Should I-"

"They're fine... just angry as usual. And stupid."

His eyes danced over your expression carefully, but it doesn't move.

"Have they been at it all day?"

There's a momentary hesitation in your eyes and he watches shame wash over you like it's your fault. You hum softly not once looking at him.

Draken has seen that face before. Distant and quietly fuming, so unlike the unceasing smiles, bubbling and maniacle laughter, and that endless sarcasm that makes your eyes glimmer. At times, Draken truly wondered how two emotionally unstable and temperamental people could produce someone like you and let their shitty relationship weigh on their child this much.

Over the years knowing you, Draken never saw anything affect your mood as your parents' big blowout fights did. Draken never had parents, and despite growing up under the roof of a brothel that had its own varying imperfections, he could only imagine how hefty it was to be an only child isolated between walls that shook with the yells and screaming of parents love that's meant to warm them.

An unadulterated scream echoes, like a child throwing a tantrum before more barking follows; empty threats of money loss, divorce, cheating and who knows what more. The dull look in your eyes that stares blankly, he could see the hurt you never like showing. But he can see it.

His jaw ticks. He hated you being there alone. He quickly looks around, down both the empty wet streets.

"Hey." He said suddenly.

"You should go." You still don't look at him.

"Hey."

"They'll stop soon."

"I said hey."

"What?" You snap your head towards him, a hint of irritation.

Your gaze met his through the bars where he crouches. He taps on the metal.

"Let's go." It's not a question. It's a soft demand.

The crease between your brows smooths at the mere of idea of escaping. Your lips part, eyes unsure.

"I- draken I can't."

"You can. Come with me." He says again. "C'mon you've done it before."

You sigh at his persistence. "It's midnight."

"And this is a fucking shit hole." He deadpan. "Let's get out of here."

He coxed a brow at you in challenge as you looked at him sternly. Immediately his gaze softens into something assuring and pleading. "Cmon, Y/n... let them have it out. You don't have to listen to their shit."

You take a deep breath before shutting your comic and reaching into your draw for a key. You climb up and unlock the window gate. Draken stands back, swinging the gate open and reaching down to help you up through the window.

"God, they're gonna kill me." You grunt as you find your footing. Draken takes the key and shuts up your window and locks the gate.

"No they won't." He says it so self-assured. Not because he's sure you won't get caught sneaking out but because he'd never let anyone harm you, not even your damned parents.

"You're right, they'd come after you." You poke at him, a smile threatening your lips.

His ears perk up at the tingue of your familiar words. He straightens, looking down at you with a smirk.

"Good. Can't wait to actually meet them." His voice is unsuspecting, but his comment is playful. His dry sarcasm makes you roll your eyes and shake your head to hide the humoured grin that breaks out on your lips. You couldn't help yourself. If anything, everything in you chanted you shouldn't be smiling. Shouldn't even remotely feel like smiling after such a shitty day contained in a cage of torment. But with Draken, you let slip a rather quiet and sarcastic comment, and all of a sudden the end of your lips twitch, and you felt like laughing.

A satisfied smile blooms on his lips as he catches your small smile. There it was. That Sass. That impeccable humour that cracks at the smallest of things. That smile.

There's my girl, he thought.

He takes your hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Let's have fun, yea?"

You sober up and a genuine smile takes its place on your lips. Even in darkness, he could see the stars dance in your eyes. You held a softening gaze, and your shoulds deflated as if all stresses were slowly leaving you willingly and happily. With an expression that said through unspoken words he didn't need you to ever say aloud, 'I'm glad you're here.' That 'I feel safe with you.'

"To the park?" You asked, a twinge of childish hope in your voice.

That knowing look in his eyes said yes, and that was all you needed before you were tugging him forward then letting go in a spontaneous race to get there first.

At home you felt like you couldn't breathe. Those walls felt so close together. Outside knowing Draken was a few spaces behind or beside you, you could breathe. Puffing out white smokes of cold air from your lungs after running down the street, giggling and hushing one another in empty pathways and swinging on swings under the streetlight hazy glow.

With you, the dark alleyways and wet tar roads weren't so mundane. Cold rainy nights like that one, sauntering down cramped homes and dingey parks weren't so uninviting. Long nights didn't feel so long, and lonely walks didn't feel so lonely. With you, the moon wasn't the most beautiful sight in the night anymore...

Without having to say it or proclaim it, you both wordlessly save each other from your own endeavours. With one another, you could breathe easy. With one another, you were a little less alone. With one another, you felt safe and, most importantly, alive.

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literally-noone83 · 9 months ago

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Silver Tongue

18+

A/n: Idk what this is. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for so long, and I haven't posted in forever... so. I finally finished it. Here we go, enjoy.

He could listen to you for hours...

The God of Mischeif, the silvertongue of Gods, he's the God who loved to hear himself speak. Words dripped from his lips like honey, or boomed from his depths in power. He enjoyed talking, it was his tool beside his dagger he welded equally graceful and skillfully.

He'd use it to spark the fear in cowering swine, use it to make snide and conniving comments to wound up midgard's heroes, or to caress your ears just to see you go flush red. His words were his way to get what he wanted but... he found your words all the more captivating.

It wasn't like you were doing this on purpose. On the contrary, you found yourself trying not to spiel thoughtless things to the closest person. For the longest time, Loki saw you for your reverence, your shyness as you worked away in the Avengers Tower. He did know your voice tk be tender and sweet in the caveats of days that passed with your kind greetings, small talk with colleagues and phone messages at your desk, but the moment you got latched on to a topic... Loki found himself listening a little bit more closely.

He watched as your eye lit up, your soft lips breaking out into a grin, one that twitched hesitantly as ti contain the visible excitement he saw bubble up inside you. He'd interrupt anyone in the room that may have been talking over you just to inquire on this small matter with you — a book, a movie, a part of history, a niche topic, a notion — and naturally a blush threatened your cheeks. His eyes softened, nodding to letting you know he was listening and the ends of his lips lift to see that was all you needed -- a greenlight that someone cared. Your hesitant words grew to rants, knowledge flowing from you. Your articulation, the fine words you kept in your hidden reputiore, alongside these thoughts. Soon there were days it was just you and him, sitting somewhere hed catch up, comfortably laxed as he hummed at your shared conversations that transformed into your personal monologues hed sit audience to. All of which hed constantly instigate...

"The- then I read an article about ahh- uhm, L-loki?" You breath hitched and he smirked.

"Yes, darling?"

"You- uh, you sure you want me to..." You breath hitch at the way his breath fans your sensitive neck, "Oh yes, dear." His slender hands trail over you hips and god-perfect thighs under that hideous coat.

"Keep talking to me, you know how much I love your voice." His voice hums lowly, kissing that spot under your ear making your shudder slightly. "So sensitive..." He comments smugly.

He had you situated on your desk. Useless things in his eyes pushed to the side to make room for you. How you got into this situation, who knows. And most importantly, who cares? He stood between your legs, up and close tasting your skin and finally feeling how fucking maluable you are in the palm of his hands. Atlas, hearing you shudder and stutter in his ear, under his touch, it was like he was in Valhalla.

"mm darling~" He purrs. "I don't hear you talking..."

You face flushes. You couldn't think straight. "R-right."

"What this article about, hm? I'm listening..." His words end with another wet kiss to your collar bone. A badge of his sincerity.

"it... it was about mythological.... p-paintings." He hums against your skin, kisses trailing your delicate skin.

"Is that right?" He murmurs, before sucking experimentally on a spot only to smirk at the gasp and sigh he elicits from you almost instantly.

"A-about gods and hah..." Loki rubs circles over your hips. "About their heavenly battles," his hands run over your underside of your thighs, smoothing over the plushness before gripping it needily, "them as legends... their- their beauty." He pulls you close to the edge, and your eyes widen at the feeling of his bulge against your inner thigh.

"No need to read about gods when you already have one in the palm of your hands, darling." His snake-like gaze meets yours, his nose brushing yours. His emerald eyes glimmer at your flushed complexion. His fingers graze the band of your leggings. "May I?" He asks softly.

You nod your head.

In a rough yet swift motion, he easily pulls down your pants past your ass and down to your thighs. You watch as his gaze darkens at the sight and you blush, embarrassed. The way his eyes are glued to the wet patch over your clothed pussy makes you squirm. "Lokii..." You whine softly at his long silence. He ignores you. His slender fingers suddenly brush your damp panties, marvelling at the way your cunt involuntarily quivers. He could feel his cock twitch at the view.

His hand comes up hard against the underside of your thigh. The harsh slap echoes in the empty office space. He towers over you and your knees held together by the band of your leggings, hugging your thighs deliciously. One of his large hands pinning you in this position from the back of your knee while the other rubs the pink mark of your skin in forgiveness.

"You stopped speaking, my pretty dove~" He says. His palm travels to your drooling pussy, and he glances at it. The smug grin on his lips widens ever so slightly, satisfied by the growing dark spot on the thin fabric. He audibly groans at the feeling; the wetness pressed against his skin, the heat that radiates from you. All for him, he thinks.

"I want to hear it. Your melodic voice, darling." He continues. Your breath hitches as he drag his middle and forefinger down your slit so easily. "You may think no one's listening... the way you murmur and talk so sweetly, to even the most unworthy of such a sound..." His flattery words drip from his silvery tongue akin to honey and poison. "You have no idea the state you reduce me to when you whisper instructions in my ear when I'm on those god-awful missions... it's the only reason I keep attending." He preens, and he sinks a thumb in your clothed fold, a devilish smirk gracing his lips at your shocked and broken moan.

His eyes glimmered at the way you struggle to walk the line of thought and the abyss of pleasure. He leans down, his lips just tickling the shell of your ear. He breathes steadily compared to your laboured breaths, pausing for a moment to resist the urge to bite you before speaking, "So I want you to speak, my love. I want to hear you babble every frivolous thought as I ravish you. Fucking you to the sound of you trying to retain a single coherent notion. Choking on your words as I listen intently... giving you the attention you deserve, darling."

He pulls back slowly, his nose lightly caressing your cheek as he meets your cloudy eyes. Through hooded lids, his intense gaze flickers over your flushed expression. Your desperate eyes and parted lips, swollen from how much you bit them just to controll yourself — only makes him want to try harder to push you over the edge. You feel his thumb press up against the hood of your clit, and the way you whimper and pull at his clothes, tells him he's the first to ever touch you like this.

"Mm, would you like that?" He whispers. "Finally give you the attention you always deserved?"

He presses on your clit, "m- y-yes! Yes Loki, please." You blurt, you felt like you were going to cry.

"Oh darling..." He removes his hands off you to cup your face. A wanton whine bubbles up into your throat until the feeling of his lips against your forehead, dissolving your pent-up frustration for just a moment. "Patience." He says softly. "I'll give you want you so clearly desire..." His forehead touches yours. Burning hot skin against his contrastingly cool complexion.

However, looking up into his eyes, they were burning with want.

"Let's start with the article's first paragraph, shall we?"

He was going to eat you alive.

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literally-noone83 · 9 months ago

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Okay but while we are talking about dividers… I’ve made a lot out of paintings too ✨

La Belle Dam Sans Merci - 2000 x 100 fic dividers

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literally-noone83 · 9 months ago

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The shit I'm reading on tumblr about the Netflix Avatar is wild. I'm glad I didn't listen to anyone on here. It's a fun adaption, and despite the faults it does have, I had so much fun watching it.

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literally-noone83 · 1 year ago

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Something Childish

Geto×Reader Nanami×Reader

Warning: None.

Word count: Short.

a/n: Trying to keep my pieces smaller, my ideas more manageable (I have about a thousand unfinished works). Anyways, just some unrequited love, babies. My fav. Enjoy babes.

"Wha- Nanamin?!"

"Wait seriously??"

"You like-"

You slap your hand over Gojo's big mouth.

"Could you say that any louder?" you hiss at him.

Like a child whispering gossip at the playground he repeats himself, "You have a crush on Nanamin?"

You tsk your tongue at him, shoving his face back with your whole hand. His piss-poor attempt to lower his voice make your cheeks flush and your brows pinch in frustration.

"What? It's not like he's gonna hear us." Gojo argues, glancing at the convenient store across from them. You three stood by the bared rail that separated ongoing city goers and the busy roads of Tokyo. You gripped at it tightly, refusing to look at either of Geto or Gojo that caged you, or towards the door of the store you knew Nanami and Haibura were in buying snacks.

"He could come out at any moment"

Geto was silent. He noticed the way you swayed, the way you looked so nervous. You were never this nervous, not even on missions.

"Or hear your big mouth from a mile away"

"I can't believe you like emo boy-"

You smack his arm. "Don't call him that"

Your defence for Nanami wasn't unfamiliar. You often stood up for him, as you did for anybody who was teased or judged. Under new light of information, the boys looked to see it was affection. A sudden feeling of stupidity washes over Geto, he should've known.

"Do you... really like him?" He asked.

"No- Yes, I mean... maybe?" You let out a curt sigh, "I don't know, I've liked him for a while..."

Your two best friends glanced at each other before gazing back down to you, they were thinking the same thing.

Geto began gently, warry of your sensitivity. "How come-"

"And you never told us??" Gentleness goes amiss with Gojo, as his questions is more accusing than worried.

"I- it just never came up ok?! Its not like you guys tell me your crushes or- or any arising infactuations"

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't" You throw an incredulous look at the white haired deliquent. Geto quietly sighs.

"Yes I do! I tell you all my fancies." He crosses his arms.

"You tell me girls you think are hot, not girls you like, dimwit, there's a difference."

"Ok maybe I dont get crushes- but I'm sure Suguru does!" He throws his hands at Geto, and you glance at him. Geto blinks, his face flushing slightly.

"Oh stop it! Jeez when did you guys become to invested in my love life?" You leant on the rail once more in resignation.

"Uh when you started liking one of our friends, fucking Nanamin"

"Saturou"

"What?"

Geto shoots him a silently reprimanding look Gojo knew a little too well. He relents with an eye roll, begrudgingly turning away from you to lean his back on the metal. Geto's gaze softens as he refocuses on you, silence finally settling upon them.

He hears you groan into your arms, evidently regretting ever telling them.

Seeing you this riled up was new. This stressed over a crush of all things he never knew you'd have. Not that he thought you weren't capable of having one, you have feels and emotions, you're a human being, of course at some point you'd like someone, anyone it's just-

Geto blinked away his thoughts. Its just... Crushes felt childish, and you were everything but. You were always pragmatic on missions, meticulous and calculating when it came to every plan and every detail, you scoffed at nearly every romance Gojo tried forcing you to watch with him, you had these walls up; ones that only came down around them. Around him. Because that was just how you were, but here you are, getting embarrassed over something as simple as a crush and Geto couldn't help but feel sympathy.

He places a hand on you shoulder.

"Hey... you know you can tell us these things right? I mean you don't have to but..." Geto lowered his head just to catch your strayed gaze, "We're friends, yea? Nothing to be embarrassed about." His words are soft and sweet, and he offers a smile that's kind and genuine once you finally meet his eyes. The corner of your lips pulls into a small appreciative smile the way he likes to see it, knowing he's got your sweet spot. He always did.

You place a hand over his, that makes his skin tingle with goosebumps, and your lips part to say something,

"Suguru-"

The door of the convenient store dings, "We got snacks!!" Haibura's sing-song voice erupt in the pathway exiting the store with a ding, pulling your attention away from Geto.

Another ding and Gojo jumps towards the shorter second year who's quick to dish out the goods that was requested. Geto flashes a polite smile as he's handed his ongiri, but his eyes keep wandering back to you. You're gaze is elsewhere and he follows it to Nanami who took his time to give thanks to the cashier, holding an extra few treats.

Recognition flickers across his eyes. It's the milky pink popsicle - strawberry, your favourite. The same one he bought you every time he went out, thinking of his friends as always. Thinking of you, always.

He catches the way you two exchange words. The way Nanami rubbed the back of his neck as he gave you the treat, trying his hardest to keep his composure. The way you look up at him surprised, yet quick to blink away your expressions. You avoid eye contact with the blonde before you, and your voice rises into a slightly high pitch than Geto is used to. If he wasn't so caught up in the unfamiliar sight, he would have laughed, teased you. But all he can think about is how foolish he was to not have picked up the signs earlier... not picked up the fact that you liked someone else.

"Ok let's go! Before we miss our train." Haibura chimes. Geto is ripped from his thoughts at the round of 'ok!'s from everyone. "Ok," His delayed response goes unnoticed. Nanami and you lead the group, an awkward walk as you politely chat.

"Wait guys! Wait up-" Gojo grabs Haibura from running up to them, covering his mouth.

"Shhh," He presses a finger against his lips, tightly gripping his jacket to stay between the seniors. "Let them have their moment, yea?" His pats the smaller friend's chest, a stunned look on his face.

"Moment? What do you-" He gasps, "Does Y/n like Nanami?"

"Quiet, Child, they'll hear you."

"Gojo tell me!"

"I made a vow to never tell"

"Gojooo!"

While Haibura pesters Gojo with questions, their words seem to blur and fade into the back as his focus lays on you. He couldn't seem to look away. Even under the sunsetting sunlight, the smile you offered glowed all the more. His eyes traced your lips as they moved, inaudible words Geto silently wish he could hear in that moment. He noted the way the corner of your eyes crinkled, grinning so wide at something Nanami said until your eyes disappeared into moon crescent shapes he loved. Your head tilted the way he knew you to do just to let someone silently know you're listening. He watched as you threw your head back laughing, a genuine laugh he knew the sound of too well, only to count the seconds before you're lifting a hand to cover your mouth - a habit he didn't like. From afar, he still had the reflexive urge to reach up and pull away your hand gently just to hear you properly, but he settles with digging his hands deeper into his pockets.

Gojo was right, this was your moment. But despite tearing his gaze from you, it flickered back to your face. For once he finally took notice; he could see it in your eyes that the walls were, too, crumbling. For someone other than him. It was moments like these, when his heart raced a little just because you smiled and time seemed to slow down as your eyes lit up.

Sometimes, Geto felt pretty childish himself.

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literally-noone83 · 1 year ago

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More Than You Know

College!Henry Cavill × Fem!reader

About: The polarity of you and Cavill did not stop at your popularity status; when it came to affection, Cavill was always most comfortable in initiating it. However, you were not. Until one afternoon study session you find you were a little too touch starved to resist him.

Warning: Cussing and Kissing, nothing more. Mainly fluff. Not entirely proofread - literally got the author of moby dick wrong, welp.

Word count: Not that long.

Author's note: I DONT KNOW WHAT I WROTE. Honestly really like this one, especially the last bit. In the beginning I can't help myself but explain the background of their relationship - I realise I do that a lot and I feel like a lot of people just don't want that. But I thought this one was cute asf. Anyways, this also is probably most likely cringey so beware of my corny shit. Enjoy.

"You know I've never seen you this distracted when studying." Henry suddenly said. He glanced over to you, his lips curving into a smirk upon seeing your face become flushed with pink, quickly looking back at your text books.

He's caught you staring at him about a hundred times now.

It's supposed to be your traditional study session. In your dorm, you sat at your desk cluttered with notes and piling content he wouldn't even try to comprehend, and him laid on you'd bed comfortably studying Econ and business.

Henry was never really studious. It wasn't till he met you did he want to try. Who knew one banter with you in a library he'd once never catch himself dead in, about a book he'd only seen the movie of, meant meeting someone like you.

It wasn't hard to note how school orientated you were. You spent more time in the library than anyone on school campus. Volunteering to work there, shelving book after book, at the front desk scanning borrowed items or in between rows of mahogany shelves reading your favourite pieces for the third or fifth time. He thought you were a snob like most. Pretentious, an academic elitist, on your constant high horse. But the afternoon he had to finally sit down and read an overdue assignment of Herman Melville's Moby Dick, his grueling hardship to read one chapter amused you to no end. College's greatest macho man complaining this shit is so boring compared to the movie. The offence you took from such a comment he caught from a mile away. It was the moment he finally took notice and in annoyance he had to ask.

What, you disagree?

You shrugged. He hadn't known your name yet.

Yes, I actually do disagree, Cavil. But it's not like it matters to you.

Huh. But you knew his.

So you think this wad of crap is better than Hollywood blockbuster movie with Chris Hemsworth?

If you had half a brain and a attention span longer than child you'd see Hollywood doesn't do justice to Melville's writing.

... What's your name?

You scoffed and ignored his question.

You were definitely hard headed. You snubbed most of his questions about the book until his inquiries slowly turned on you. You always found a way to evade them. The times you took mercy and helped him in understanding literature were caveats of your walls coming down. Banter turned into teasing. The moment he heard you laugh — and quickly apologised for — his heart spurred with elation he didn't expect to feel. He wanted to hear you that sweet and smile so unabashed. Coincidental study sessions and run-ins with each other turned into late night walks he offered to your place, and hangouts in other bookshops and markets.

The polarity between the two was clichae to say the least but Henry couldn't care less. You become someone he liked to talk to, speaking in ways he hadn't before. And you were someone he loved to listen to. You were nothing like he expected, and he was a far cry from your own expectations. Reputations that proceeded you two crumbled in each other's presence.

In the end the biggest irony was that he couldn't finish Moby Dick for the life of him — you ended up spending hours talking to his about in library shifts — but he could read you so easily.

"I'm not, I'm not distracted." You denied, scribbling some words that wasn't relevant to your Lit course. You heard him chuckle.

"You're also awful at lying," you glanced to your right. He shifted onto his side to face you, taking a break from glossing over his assigned textbook.

"Whats wrong, babe?" He asked seriously, yet his voice still gentle. "You've been staring at me all of a sudden, something is clearly wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," you affirmed.

"Then why were you burning a hole in the side of mu head?"

"I was'nt!"

"So you werent looking at me?"

"Is it such a crime to stare?"

"So you do admit it!" He jutted a finger at you.

You groaned, "Oh hush, you're my boyfriend. Yes, I stare at you."

His heart clenched at your words. He loved it when you claim him as yours. A reminder that I'm yours, made him feel wanted. And in this case, it egged him on to tease.

"Baby, I think you want to do more than stare." You could smell his smirk, you refused to look at him. He watches you crane your neck further into you books, to hide the blush that dusted your complexion. If there something more he loved to hear you say he's your boyfriend was making you flustered.

"You are so lewd." You mumbled.

"So that's a yes." He teased.

"Wh- no!"

"No? you don't want to touch me." He feigned offence.

"I- I never said that!"

"You rather stare at me."

"I'm not saying that-"

"Then what are you saying, darling? C'mon tell me."

Your moment of silence makes him smirk self satisfied. "Aww baby, don't be shy. You are my girlfriend after all."

You finally looked at him. His stupid lopsided smile that made your chest pulse, and stupid sly glint in his eyes, knowing his effect on you. You saw his lips move. So pink and full. You heard the hum of his voice, the playfulness laced through it, and you saw his lips continue to move in speech but you didn't comprehend anything that came out. Maybe you were distracted.

He took your silence as annoyance, he shuffled closer to the edge on his elbows to reach out to you.

"C'mon babe," a laughed sprinkled in his words. "I'm sorry, I'll quit teasing and I'll leave you to your studying. I swear it." He looked up at you. Your gaze was on him but somehow so far from the now. He stretched out his hand to place it on your thigh to bring you back, "Just after you tell me what is going on inside that big brain of your-" The moment he touched you, your hand suddenly grabbed his stong jaw, tilting his head up to you. You leant down and connected your lips to his.

The force of your lips stunned him. You swallowed his words and he couldn't been more pleasantly surprised. It wasn't often that you were so assertive outside the realm of verbal debates and banter. For the longest time you were rather shy when it came to physical affection; the way you stuttered slightly behind a cough when he'd snake his hand down your arm and intwine with your fingers, or never push for more when you kissed. He knew this, and so he was always gentle and you let him lead every time. But this. This was different. His lips were still, at first almost just registering your lips on his. Feeling you press into him further, his hand around your wrist loosened and his eyes fluttered shut relishing at this change.

It was intoxicating. The felt of his lips, the way his bottom lip fit so perfectly between yours. Soft, tender, you had half a mind not to bite into it. You pulled back only millimetres before drawing into for another, a rhythm you were setting he was gladly falling into. All stress and tension dissipated from you, entranced by him, the feeling of him. You want him and you have him, you remind yourself.

Henry was undeniably annoying as fuck. He teased you and never backed down from a banter. He talk to you about anything, so unfiltered you became around him was frightening before. Yet now you find comfort in it; the way he listens and some how picks up on ques from you without saying anything. He was gentle, and understood even when he couldn't possibly; he always tried. He didn't yell or was aggressive as most assume. He plays tough, and has been since you've known him, but he's so soft, he's a sap for romance and a nerd for fantasy. He's genuine, and he's thoughtful. You loved him.

The fact overwhelmed you, and your languid kisses began to pick up. You couldnt get enough of him. Suddenly you were pecking him on the lips. The change in pace, humoured Henry, funny to note you had no time for patience when you dominated. You now held the sides of his face, you felt his lips curl and you kissed the corners of his smile. He was so irresistible it made your heart ache and stomach flutter. As your kisses travelled to his cheeks, to his nose and even eye lids, a chuckled escaped his lips, your touch so feathery it tickled. Until you reached his forehead.

You kissed one last time in the centre between his temples. You held it for a second longer to let him know this was out of affection and infatuation, settling for the spur of physical aggression. An affliction he enjoyed.

You felt him fingers softly caress the back of your hand that cradled his left cheek. Back to earth, you rested the crown of your forehead against his own, too embarrassed to see your flushed complexion as if he hasn't already seen it about a thousand times. Regardless his eyes were on you, closely watching the way your lips parted to release a semi-labored breath and your evasive gaze half-lidded. He couldn't help it either, his cheeks burned at this new affection. It excited him. He wondered if you could feel it under the pads of your finger tips.

"You are actually annoying me." You breathily said and a laugh erupted from his lungs. His breath tickled your face and you couldn't help but join him.

"And you're distracting me." You continued with a smile you couldn't suppress.

"Oh yea?" He swayed you against him.

"Yea, so I think I do need you to leave." You didn't mean it in the slightest.

"After that? I don't think I'll ever leave your side, baby." His voice grew soft, turning his playful comment into something sincere. Soft chuckles slipped your lips, and gently he pulled back. He needed to see your face.

Your hand left his face as you let up some space—just a little—in between you and your lover, rather letting them glide past his side of his neck, dip in the crook of his neck and slide to his chest. One of his hands followed. He warmed your palms and his hand pressed it against him to make sure you rested there.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I don't- I don't usually do that, I just..."

You felt his thumb career your knee and his soft lips peck your cheek, nudging you to look at him. You hadn't realised you were still avoiding his gaze until you met his light eyes.

He leaned in and kissed your other cheek in routine. "Don't do that," his looked at you and you saw his eyes dance between your eyes, "Don't apologise."

You exhaled through your nose, nodding. "I just wanted to kiss you"

"Really? I couldn't tell."

"Shut up" Leaning back instinctively out of embarrassment, he kept you close to him.

"But really, sorry I was so..."

"So assertive?" He raised his brows and you nodded, "Well, I actually quite liked it." He admitted.

"Really?" You asked.

"Yea," he had a soft smile. Not teasing or mischief, just sincere and elated.

"Really really?" You leaned in close, a smile breaking out against your will as you leaned in close.

"Yea," he whispered, his eyes dropped to your lips, as did you yours. You kissed him.

"Well I could practice..." you mumbled against his lips, pressing his hands against his chest to push him slowly back, "to be more assertive."

He followed your lead, smirking at your words. "I would..." He spoke between every kiss, "... love... that..."

"Yea?"

"Fuck yea..." His heart preened at your giggle.

"More... than you... know, baby"

#henry cavill #fanfic #comfort fic #touch starved #idfk how to tag this #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill hellraiser #mike hellraiser #not him but yknow #I envisioned that image of henry

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literally-noone83 · 1 year ago

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Learn to Take a Break

Justin Russo × Fem!reader

About: Justin is know for his intelligence and ceaseless academic success. As his girlfriend you have become mindful of when his "effortless efforts" become a little too much. You just hadn't realised he'd do the same for you...

Word Count: Short and sweet (in my opinion).

Warnings: None.

Author's Note: It's been too long. I have just finished exams and currently still working on outside projects. I already take a long time to write and with extra things on top, leisurely writing has been little to none. This Justin fic is an old one I wrote. I was going to do more with it but the scenario was small and I thought where it ended was fine; concise and sweet. So, why not post it. I have other fics lined up and started, hopefully I'll be able to finish a few of them over the weekends.

OK enjoy!

Justin always seemed to excell in everything with ease.

Wizarding homework? Done.

High school assignment? All good.

Extracurricular activities? All planned.

Secondary wizardry studies? On the job.

Yes, there were mornings—most mornings—he'd announce the immense importance of an upcoming task; exam, project, paper, competition and of its integral part I plays for him a student, a wizard, a student body president and most significantly, as himself. His parents would nod thoughtfully or sigh at their son's dramatisation though nevertheless glad. Max would be clueless, until Alex makes her groan or snide comment diminishing the entire fiasco and then he'd agreeing.

You knew this was the routine. It was just how things worked. But when lucky enough to be present, bored enough to have shown up just a little bit earlier just to see him and walk with him, you'd ask what's it about. Whether he told you with lit eyes or stressed creased over his complexion, you'd grab his hand discretely in front of his family—always a little shy from public affection—gliding your thumb over his knuckles before assuring him it'll be great...

Becoming his girlfriend, you've been allowed to see different sides to the perfect Russo member.

Despite the prestine and perfect image he's built himself, and despite true to his confident and at time self righteousness, to get there was built of stress and the crippling fear of failure.

The hours he'd spend quizzing himself had worried you the moment you found his asleep at his desk, palm cards stuck to his face. At most times, you'd notice he'd get so caught up in a particular project fixation he'd forget to eat in spite of his advocacy for healthy balances. One day building a diorama of a play and you visited to hang out, a casual question of what he had to lunch revealed he hadn't even eaten a proper meal all day—frighteningly casual and perpetually distracted. There were times you'd have to spend a large amount of time at the edge of his bed reminding him—face down on his pillow, wallowing after a day of outrage and devastation—that a B is still great!

Justin wasn't a child, he could mane his own decisions and his drive and ambition is admirable. But it grew as a habit; anytime you'd notice he was a little too focus on a task, meaning hasn't moved in hours kinda focus—his eyes narrowed, brows forever wrinkled tightly, lips thin or a tongue poked out in concentration—you found a small peck on the cheek brought him back. Soft and quick, the small action made him sit back or hum to let you know he's still conscious. Gently asking him how's he going, to remind him of the present. Not to push so hard or be so constraint on himself.

Almost second nature. When you'd rant to him about something that happened that day, the weird interaction with some stranger, or the banter with his siblings, or some frivolous topic or hobby you wanted to vent about your fascination with it—when you realised he'd gone silent. Without even meaning to, he'd drift off on something bugging him or weighing on his mind, you'd approach him casually before pecking him, "What are you thinking about?" you'd whisper. He'd always blink a few times before answering. Quick to apologise and explain. Other times you'd walk in on him studying or what not and you'd duck down to him and plant one on him. "Have you taken a break yet?" and he'd lie before giving in from the innate guilt then promising he would in about 10 minutes.

His vacant, distant eyes, he always appeared to be in a different world. So vastly out of reach from you, at some point you believed he hadn't even noticed you were doing this. You thought he couldn't even feel your lips. He probably didn't even notice.

Late afternoon, the sun hung low. The rays if sunset, it's warmth slowly seeped out from the windows. Drawing away from your never moving figure on the couch. The loss of light prompted the dawning of loss fall over your mind and stomach. The day was coming to a close and it churned your insides painfully.

You had an assignment you had to finish. You were never as pedantic or forward as Justin, so today was the day you spent majority of sun light working on it. It always took longer than it ever needs to be, and it didn't help that time was clearly escaping you.

Hasty steps to the light switch to grant sight, hasty steps back amidst all the papers and text books laid over the coffee table and floor.

Suddenly the door clicked open. It was Theresa and Jerry, Mrs Russo bantering this time about the very questionable hygiene of her husband after witnessing him eat a chip from the ground. Of course, realising your presence they chimed a polite 'Oh hey Y/n' before resuming in the kitchen. Max walked in joyed to see you, glad informing you of some new strange encounter he had with some stranger—made a bet with some guy in a fast food mascot suit and now he's his 'mortal enemies' he plans to show up with his own hot dog costume. Alex and Harper wondered it, only for Alex to groan at your studious state, 'ugh not you too', accompanied by the red head's unrelenting chipper greeting, before following her friend to grab a snack.

Last was Justin. You heard his voice you missed too much to say—he was eager to see you, going about how in their wizard lesson he had progressed another level, his joyous one upping on Alex and so on. You could only hum as you did with the others, eyes still strained on your paper, your hand still cramped from continuously running the led along the page. He stopped, noticing your distance.

"Y/n, have you... been doing this all day?"

Sat on the couch, he stared at the back of your head, just catching your answering hum.

"Babe," he said seriously, leaning forward to see your face, "have you even taken a break?"

Your small pause before making another noise, he already knew that meant you hadn't.

He stood up to walk around you, "You need to have periodic increments of rest, or you'll exhaust yourself." He said mindfully, picking up a strayed textbook.

You scoffed at him, and he looked at you. Eyes still gliding over the blocks of texts, chaste and frantic cross-checking as you wrote. "So hypocritical." You said loud enough for him to hear and Justin rolled his eyes admittedly.

He closed the book and placed it down. He carefully shuffled some books out of the way, conscious in making sure you still can see the pages you left open. Then moved to sit beside you on the floor, criss crossed, his knee nudges yours softly. Justin waits. He looks back at his family too absorbed in their own conversations before resting on your concentrating self. Brows furrowed, thined lips and darting distant eyes. You're stressed, you're tired. He could see it, he could feel it.

He leans in close, and his breath fans your face and his lips are pressed against your cheek softly. His ever so fleetingly gentle his lips is sudden against your skin and your pulled from your work. He moves away just enough to see your face, "You're right, I am." He's smug, smiling as he finally greets your gaze. "But someone told me it's not good to push yourself so hard."

You wiped your cheeks and let out a breathy laugh to cover up your redness. The method was much more effective than you thought. "They sound smart."

"She is, very smart. But she's also tired and stressed."

As his voice grew serious you finally faced him. He was centimetres apart, and each of you let your eyes dance around your complexions, soaking in your presence.

"Didn't realise how effective that..."

"It's very effective."

The chatter in the background, the aroma of the beginning of dinner. It felt like a blanket was over the two and you couldn't help but indulge in just being there with him. A long awaited break—the hole in your chest seemed to relent, dissipating as you drank in his warmth. So this is how it felt. You didn't realise how much you needed it till that moment with him.

"I missed you."

The peaks of his lips tugged, smiling at you as his eyes landed briefly on your lips.

"Me too." He said before connecting his small smile to yours.

#justin russo #justin #wizards of waverly places #wizard #wowp #fanfiction #fluff #alex russo #max russo #disney channel #disney

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literally-noone83 · 1 year ago

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Supernatural Headcanons: Receiving Affection (1/?)

About: female!reader×platonic!everyone, teenage/young adult reader, reader's love language is touch: hugging, hanging off the boys' shoulders, falling asleep on their shoulders and the like :) just wholesome things (with some angst).

Word count: It's a long a one...

Warning: Angst, Shouting, other than that it's just fluffy :)

A/n: This reallt isnt a head cannon tbh. Started with an idea, created an OC then a background and then and then and then — it spiralled into this mess haha.

I meant to go further - provide that conclusion to create a holistic narrative... but it's already really long and atm felt uninspired to keep going with it. So we wait, sorry !

Welp, enjoy!

Let's imagine your love language is touch. The crave and the lingering need to touch, hug, lean on, hold onto someone, some one you felt safe around and loved by was a instinct you've always had.

Surrounding yourself with some of the most emotionally stunted and constipated people — emotionally unavailable car, pie and ACDC loving hunter, his emotionally neglected brother and monotonous 'I don't understand the reason for handholds if you're not lost' angel boyfriend — your touchy feely nature was met half-heartedly.

Given the moment you first met them was amidst a series of tumultuously devastating events — one easy case turned bad, the loss of family was never easy on a adolescent. And for the most part that's all you were to them. Another poor young soul caught up in the cusp of a terrifying world Dean and Sam intended to protect. To save. It never came without consequence — it's just this time in came in the form of a teenager, tear stained and alone.

Dead of night, once the vampires who took your mother and little brother were resolved with a few knife swings and burning bullets — it was the embrace Sam offered that changed things.

You needed it. Solace, comfort. Something to keep you grounded.

The Winchesters would do more than offer a hug. Decisions and shots were called, arguments sure did occure — another mouth to feed, a head to look out for — but in the end life kept moving and this was all you had left; a reason, an opportunity, to help.

A Winchester. You were the rookie who could barely hold a gun. Then you were the amature that fought to fight; snooping for cases, sneaking out for a chance to shoot and to prove you can contribute. Couple years fly by and now you're family.

So many night spent trading stories, on the stupid shit Dean pulled and Sam moments of pubescent embarrassment among the pockets of normal school life, or your gems of memory with your mother you missed and a brother you had teased. The banter was rich on both ends — most prominently with Dean. It was just so easy. A grumpy old man who dished out the rules and stomped around with that voice of his — you couldn't help yourself.

*in Dean's voice* "Its too dangerous, me macho man will take care of it" *normal voice* "y'know I didn't realise you were one grey hair away from being my father..."

He lets out a humorless laugh, rubbing his chin and gesturing to you at Sam. "She thinks shes funny huh? youre real comedian— thats it!"

He chases you down the bunker and you run away. Deans yelling and your laughter ringing behind Sam.

Sam truly was enjoying to have someone on his side — till at times he wasn't so lucky. You and Dean were a little too powerful once you joined arms...

Amidst this new found family, Dean and Sam quickly noticed how much you liked to hug them... almost clingy.

Granted, it wasn't like you smothered everyone who walked into your life — with Dean and Sam it was different. They saved you, welcomed you, took care of you. You trusted them.

It qas noticeable during the early days of your stay. After long hunts when you were left behind, in security of the bunker, those hours felt like days and days felt like years. Crippling fear of losing the only formed tether of family and safety frightened you.

The moment the door clicked open, "Hey, Y/n, we're back," a bag of take out ready and jackets being torn off in lethargic movements of a day's struggle, "got some burgers and those curly fries as remembered and—"

Frantic steps and a leap, Dean was almost knocked down by the force of your hug. Wrapped around his neck, face buried in his collar. "Woah there, Kid." He stumbled and huffed from the suddenness.

"Y/n? you ok?" Sam asked at your long passing moments in embrace. Words of gladness and "Thank god"s poured from your lips, stepping back to look at how they're really here. Alive. Safe. The brothers noted it was probably because of your family — you were dealing and I think they are one of few people who could really understand that.

However, this passing moment became everytime. They'd come home and you'd hug them briefly. Once you were coming with them than waiting patiently, you'd embrace them before bed.

Huddled around the table, Sam reading, Dean nursing a cold beer whilst flipping through a magazine as you ate and prompted Dean into weird topics of 'never have I ever - monster edition'. You'd bid yourself adue.

"I'm gonna hit the sack, weirdos." You'd walk around to them. "Enjoy your light reading, Sammy. And enjoy your pervy magazine, old man." Passing by, wrapping your arm their shoulders, affectionately nudging cheeks with them — Sam would accept them graciously, the loving gesture comforting to him. And Dean would simply hum at you, trying his best to look indifferent or exasperated by such contact. But you knew he silently enjoyed them, and Sam did especially; knowing his older brother, the boundary of affection was never crossed but from you — a semblance of a younger sister — was soothed but this entry of comfort. Shoulders slacked, posture less tense, you were a reminder of everything was okay.

"Now get off me - you need a shower."

When Castiel was around it, too, didn't take long before he was another victim to your embraces. Seeing how close Cas was to Dean and Sam, it meant he was good.

Late night car rides, slumped against the worn leather of Baby as the soft rock channel hummed alongside the murmuring engine pushing the hunters and a angel home. The orange street light continuously ran over their laps, exhaustion lingered in the vehicle — Dean's raw red knuckles were prominent, wrapped around the steering wheel. Sam sported a scrape on his cheek bone, exchanging hushed words between his brother and Castiel. Sat in the back with Cas, you couldn't bother chipping on the discussion. The headache you endured only just subsided, with just a bruise that ached at your side, both the dull music and gentle voices did well to block it. Soothing you into a lul.

"Someone's uncharacteristically quiet..." Sam humoured. The two shared a peak through the review mirror to catch your heavy eyes and tilting head you struggled to hold up. Dean couldn't help but smirk, chuckling under his breath at your disgruntled hum towards Sam.

"It's a nice change," he joked.

"Dean," Cas warned, glancing attentively to you, "She did a lot today."

"Yea... she did." He said silently proud. Of course she did.

Moments passed and next thing you know, Cas felt your held fall on his shoulder. Almost surprised, he didn't move an inch. Tossing and turning, laying on him finally made you settle. Staring down at you, he was glad to see you sleep — you took too many nights to sitting on thay laptop keen that every minute need not be wasted. And so he laid back a bit more comfortably, mindful on how much he moved. He understood, humans needed their rest.

Dean couldn't help but find it endearing.

The boys did their best to revieve your affection in stride. Cas was always naturally stiff when you slung your arm over his shoulders. Dean tried his best to act annoyed when you attack hug him from behind, and awkwardly patting your back. Sam never minded the time you'd sit beside him, leaning against his larger stature while he read or researched.

Then Jack showed up. Between losing Mary, Crowley, the fright of Cas' death and so much more — times weren't the easiest. Lucifer's son, the premeditated anti-christ that was the cease all life and goodness, the first day of getting to know Jack was a rocky path. While Sam continuously sympathised the young man and Dean couldn't even look at him, you remained initially indifferent. Just like your brothers, you were scared more than anything, grieving over the losses especially Cas — you didn't know what to think but you did know they needed you.

Jack noticed how you kept wrapping your arms around them every time you left off to somewhere or twist your twist your face into something warm at the much angrier man. It was so peculiar to him that he asked Sam when they were in the cellar, "why does she do that?"

"What?"

A look of seriousness worried Sam, "Do that - hold him. Dean." And he looked at him confused.

"You mean— she hugging him." Jack's face didn't change, "she's embraced him because she's worried about him," it sounded more like a question as he mimicked the gesture, "you embrace someone when you want to comfort them, or show them affection."

"'affection'?"

"It's means to show care for someone."

Jack looks at him, "She does it a lot." He noted.

Sam omitted a breathy laugh, "Yea. She does - she cares a lot, I suppose."

Soon your apprehension grew to empathy for the nephillum. His innocence and innate kindness baffled you at times. He borne no essence of evil - he rather carried Kelly's sweetness, and a fear that made you realise that Jack was far from anything like his father. He was just Jack.

The realisation settled within you as you sat on that crate where your breath transpired in the cold, facing Jack curled up beside the dumpster. Large shadows drew over his furrowed brows, deep with sadness and hurt as he said, "Maybe I'm not worth all this". Your heart sunk. All alone without the comfort of his mother and guidance of the angel she promised, made to feel like he was something he wasn't — worthless.

"Stop." The words escaped your lips faster than you could think and he stared at you saddened. "Don't..." You hesitated, too many things you want to say and you settle with reaching out a gentle hand. "Can I please uhm..." Jack slightly confused gave his hand at your hushed question. And he was surprised by your warm and firm grip; holding his palm with your other hand instantly clasping over his knuckles, you told him "Jack, you are worth all this..." staring intently into his eyes. "Sam thinks your worth it, so did Castiel, your mother. And so do I."

His eyes softened, and a small smile slipped onto your lips. Hope seeping into his features, he asked, "Really?"

"Really." You said.

That night you shared a room with Jack, agreeing with Sam things were too tense with Dean. You'd continue to be at Jack's side, speaking to him, answering his questions, simply being with Jack whilst mediating your brothers. Meaning, your constant defense of Jack caused a constant bickering and arguing with Dean. Unlike Sam the Diplomat, you two were almost explosive. Dean hated how close you'd stick by that thing, that freak; he was dangerous, he could hurt you! And you hated Dean's merciless disdain for him — always throwing warnings at the names and disregarding statements Dean would say without a thought with Jack.

At times, when Sam was with Jack, the moment he'd leave you and the eldest alone, stiff muttering of words escalated into loud yelling. Seething at each other until your red faced. Sam would always have to intervene, assuring Jack they're just "hot headed".

This anger festered into Dean's asserting orders; regulations, rules, reprimanding of your interactions with Jack. You were holding Jack's hand cause he seemed nervous, Dean would explicitly say no handing holding with devils. Alone in a room with him on an off chance again? Dean's dragging you out on errands or telling you to go to your room. Walking around the table offering your bidding night hugs, your affectionate squeeze on Jack's shoulder earned a warning glare from Dean.

You always made a face back, countering his overprotective as overbearing and stupid. When you finally had a go at him for it, Sam was out and there was nothing holding them back. You both pushed at each other to your limits. Comparing Jack to you when you some kid helpless and alone too, or Sam deemed bad before he could do any good, really sent Dean down the rails — because you're family. Jack is Lucifer's son, not you.

"Does he look like Lucifer's son to you, Dean?! He does nothing but be kind, gentle. He listens to your orders, he's even terrified of you!"

"And so he should be!" His voice booms with anger you hadn't heard from Dean till now and it shakes you. "You think I care that he can smile nicely at you, and say 'thank you' and 'sorry'? That doesn't matter. Cas is gone because of him, Mum is gone because of him. Wake up, Y/n, he can't change what he is and what he is, is a freak, an inevitable danger to you, to us, this entire freaking world- I'm sorry youre too damn stupid and niave to realise that." His starn, harsh words push past his lips in a burst of thoughts that seemed like he's been holding in forever, and he has to lean back for a moment to sigh. You stood there without moving, your eye glisten against your will as you swallow his words. He paused before turning to walk away without another word — the knife sunk a little deeper.

"I know you're hurting, Dean," your voice went small, and you caught him mid step. "but you're not the only one." His face grew sullen: he was too angry, too tired. He hadn't the energy to say or do something. Looking at you, he noticed your quivering lip you tried so hard to hide and instantly in his eyes you reverted back into that small 14 year old girl he and Sam decided to take under their wing. An image that flashed by and then you were walking away. To the other side of the bunker. And after a few heart beats, he did too.

Without either of you knowing, Jack had heard the entire altercation. Your purposeful steps rushed past him and you didn't see him — too busy fiercely wiping away escaping hot tears you didn't want. Jack had never seen you this upset and quietly he followed you to your room. He heard you slam the door shut and heard you sniffle inside. Hesitant he slowly cracked the door open to see your back facing towards him, sat on the edge of your unmade bed, silently crying.

A sensation of sorrowful guilt imbued in the centre of his chest. This was his fault wasn't it?

"Y/n?" His sudden appearance finally made known surprises you and you whip around. "Jack," your voice is thick with emotions, harshly sniffed back as your wiped your cheeks several times. "What are you..." You took a deep breath. Seeing his worried eyes you realised your attempt to appear unphased and normal was feeble — your eyes were puffy, flushed cheeks and red nose. And then it hit you, "I'm sorry, Jack. Sorry you had to hear that it's just, he's just..." you lett your hands fall to your lap defeatedly and head hung low. You looked him and flashed a weak smile, "Don't worry," Jack moved to sit on your bed, "It's just everything's a bit weird."

"I'm sorry." He finally said simply.

"What? Jack-"

"I'm sorry," he looked at you with those same eyes that night. "that you, Dean and Sam are hurting - because of me."

You shook your head, "No, no Jack, you have done nothing wrong, we're fine. We will work this out-"

"But you are crying, you are upset."

"I'm fine, Jack, don't-"

"Why are you lying?" He places a hand over yours, catching your evasive and scattered gaze. He pulls you to a halt, forcing you to meeting his big attentive eyes. They were so kind and gentle. And the warm of his hand stopped your racing heart. "You can tell me." He said softly and such simple words crashes over you. Your eyes locked onto his, you let silence hang in between as you soaked in this blooming comfort from someone you least expected it. It was overwhelming. And the longer you looked at him, all thoughts and emotions started to feel too real, too much, and your eyed began to well up in tears. Trying to blink them away made them fall faster and your gaze fell to his hand. "I- I'm sorry."

Your voice cracked and your instinctively tried to cover your face; to hide from Jack which you were sure you were confusing him even more with your immense and sudden outpour of emotions. You muttered your apologies, intending to turn to avoid overwhelming him further until the mattress dipped this way and there and a pair of arms embraced you. The foreign feeling of his body against yours made you hold your breath for a second — digesting the unexpected gesture of comfort from Jack and one that you didn't know you needed.

He held you firmly, his head tucked beside yours, eyes scrunched tight as if desperate to make you feel better. Seconds pass before you relent into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrying yourself away into the nape of his neck. And Jack squeezed you a little tighter.

You and Jack would stay like that for a while. Until your quiet sobs muffled into his shirt quietened down to weak sniffles and your arms loosened, feeling yourself wafting into sleep.

Once Sam came home from his grocery run, he was met by the unsuaul silence and brooding Dean who fixing himself a sandwich.

"Dean, I literally went shopping to cook now why are you-"

"'s not for me." He finished it before pushing it towards Sam, "Mind giving this to Y/n?" It was hardly a question.

The way his brother barely looked at him leaning back with a drink, and the sullenness of his voice, Sam knew something must've happened, "...And why can't you do that?"

"I don't think she's in the mood to talk to be right about now."

Sam walked up to your door, sick with worry and anger to hear what had gone down between you and Dean. The steam from yet another argument with Dean came to a simmer seeing your door not locked but left ajar. He slowed, softly calling out "Y/n?" coming closer he heard not only your soft snores he knew well after years but another's.

Entering he stopped — there you were deep in slumber. And in the arms of the nephilum. Your head lay in the croock of his neck, arms loosely fallen across his torso while his around your shoulders. Sam noted your red eyes and nose, stains of tears that revealed the severity of this argument with Dean had a toll on you. It pained his heart yet seeing Jack with you overturned such hurt — he comforted you. A cosmic being does not need sleep yet Jack visibly chose to rest with you — to show you he cared too. However it there was no doubt you had fallen asleep on him first — a sign of your trust.

The two of you have connected, and Sam quietly left, clicking the door shut with a relief and no plan on letting his older brother know about this.

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #fluff #fanfic #fluffy headcannons #reader x dean winchester #reader x sam winchester #reader x castiel #reader x jack kline #platonic #i should be studying #haha

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literally-noone83 · 2 years ago

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My Works ~

[Wizards of Waverly Place ~`°○]

Wish to Stay this Close Forever ~ Justin Russo × Fem!Reader (comfort fluff) ~ 1kish

Learn to Take a Break ~ Justin Russo × Fem!Reader (comfort fluff) ~ 1kish

[Celebs ~`☆°]

More Than You Know ~ College!Henry Cavill × Fem!reader (touch starved fluff) ~ 1-2kish

[Jujutsu Kaisen ~`◇°]

Something Childish ~ Geto + Reader (unrequited love) ~ Less than 1k

[Marvel ~♧°,]

Silver Tongue ~ Loki × Fem!reader (smuttish) ~ Short

[Tokyo Revengers ~ □°•`]

Breathe Easy ~ Draken × Fem!reader (comfort) ~ Short

[Supernatural ~☆`] Receiving Affection ~ Female!younger!reader × platonic!everyone (fluff) - long

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literally-noone83 · 2 years ago

Text

A Wish to Stay this Close Forever

Justin Russo × Fem!reader

Word count: 1k ish

Warnings: None! Just fluff, essentially comfort fic after a long day.

Author's note: Sup losers. Kinda have a current fixation on wowp, and I realised it's kinda dry on tumblr fics in the wowp fandom. So I'm going to fix that. Yes this is about Justin, No idc if you don't like him, this is my blog. Have a nice day <3

The day was long and arduous. The sun hung low and the streets of Waverly place was lessened with people. Day stores were closing, some waving your way in nice greetings from a familiar face, others were just opening for the night noise.

You've walked this path more times you can count. Passing the small park you used to spend time chasing the Russo kids as a child; giggles echoe distantly. It was also emptied.

The school bag weighed on your shoulders. Heavier and heavier by the minute. Years of high school, carrying these books so many times walking with Justin and Alex. Running early in the morning rush, accidentally slept in, as did poor Justin enduring the consequences of indulging your antics and studying late at night. You walked by one of his study post cards still wedged in a bring wall from when he dropped his stack in attempt to revise on the way. It was stained and dirtied now.

The sub station came into view, it's front door signed "closed". Pushing through the doors, you were gladly met with Thereasa cleaning, "We're closed!" her stern voice rang only to switch at your appearance, "Oh, hey sweetie." You gave her a meek smile. Your sluggish step, your wordless greeting, Theresa has known you nearly as long as she's raised her own kids, instantly she knew and awed at your tired state. She stopped mopping momentarily, "he's upstairs on the couch, preparing for his essay competition."

You pulled a thumbs up gratefully. Heading towards the twirling stairs, Max came down.

"Y/n! just the cool person I needed to talk to. I was thinking of a new sandwich name for my triple bacon, fudge-" you interrupted his ramble with a affectionate ruffle of his head, before moving up the stairs right past him.

You heard his mother explain 'she's tired, Mijo, she'll talk to you later'.

Up and up, your mind was blank. Drained of all energy from the afternoon classes you took. Today was particularly harder, and all that remained lingering in your head was the thought of resting with him.

Heavier feet sounded before you, and as you guessed it was Jerry. He was always sweet, just like Theresa, they posed as second parents to you really. And instinctively he asked, "What's going on with you kiddo? looking a bit flat." You hummed at him and he smiled sympathetically. He knew, just like his wife. And he let you pass without a fuss. "He's in the kitchen, but watch out him and Alex might be arguing."

You let out a small breathy chuckle, because of course they would be.

The door seemed so far away. Reaching it felt like touching gold, twisting the knob and pulling it open. The gust of air brushed your face, inhaling the smell of familiarity and warmth inside this apartment, this home you've visited and at times practically lived in for years.

Alex's muffled voice became clear. The snarkiness starkly interwoven in her speech, the certain type of sadistically yet playful jeer in her tone that you knew all too well, but you supposed Justin who typically lay victim knew it best.

His back was towards you. Sat on the couch with all his text books laid open, pens and highlighter all over the table top with balls of scrunched up 'failed' or 'flawed' attempts at his perfect essay on the floor. You could hear his voice but not his words, noticing the way he gestured hands at Alex as he normally did when irritated by her; arguing with a pen in his hands, dancing between narrowing his eyes at her or hunchinh over his piece of paper.

Zeroing in on his presence, a beacon of a safe haven, a long overdue surrender into comfort, your aching shoulders dropped in its true exhaustion. Slipping your bag off your back, it fell with a thud. It caught the Russos attention, only moments before.

"Well you can stop whining, your girlfriend is here." Alex said.

"What? I dont have-"

Justin could only assume Alex was either referring to Harper, Zeke or- suddenly, Justin felt hands snake around his torso firmly, gentle hands he unmistakeably knew was your's. He felt your body laid against his, leaning into his frame; face pressed into his upper back, chest against his lower as your arms after a quick squeeze loosened into a comfortable hold. Face surely smushed, hair in a disarray, your exasperated breath heated a spot on his skin.

All at once, it was like all muscle tension released. Every bad thought expelled. And ounce of strength that upkept her stature, fell away, and he could feel you slowly sink into him.

Turning his head to the side, trying to see your face, he asked "Hey when did you get here?"

You hummed, before mustering up a few words. "It's me, not zeke."

You heard Alex's giggle burst out—your reliable audience member to every Justin tease you gave.

You felt him snap his head, surely glaring towards his little sister before rolling his eyes at you.

"Still so funny after a full day's work huh," he commented and you smiled against the felt of his plaid shirt. "Just for you," you mumbled and Alex was quick to gag in the background.

"Well you two lovebirds have fun. Enjoy your Justin Hug day, Y/n." Her teasing voice wafted away along with her clicking heels up to her room. Justin seethed at her suggestiveness, only for her to wave before the sound of her door slamming shut.

"She's insufferable."

"You don't mean that."

"Whatever..."

Letting silence prevail, you imagined he resumed his study, his dedication at work. However, his hand had glided over your arms comfortingly. Soothing you with one hand, his soft fingertips trailed up over your knuckles, intertwining fingers gently.

He whispered, "Long day?"

"Yea..." you responded just as softly.

"Mrs Thompson rowdy like before?"

"Just the usual."

He hummed.

"You ok?"

You paused, and your silence made him tilt his head to the side in worry, gently egging on your words.

"...tired." your voice grew smaller.

Justin waited for a moment. "Want to talk about it?" he asked seriously but you didn't answer. Instead he felt your face shift against his shoulder blade as you shook your head for 'no'. He knew it wasn't the time. And so he breathed out an 'ok', squeezing your hand in reassurance that it's alright, it can wait. 'You can rest'.

Situations like this with Justin happened occasionally.

Ever since you were little kids, maybe it was due to age or the fact you made a particularly closer connection to Justin first, but when you were mad, sad or scared you always gravitated to the little boy. And vice versa. There was photos Mr and Mrs Russo kept of you and Justin holding hands whenever you were in a crying fit or Justin was petrified from little things like a bug crossing the pavement.

Continued to stay attached to the hip, while childish affections like that dialed down growing up, high school was vastly different. Years of venturing their own paths while still knowing each other, some things just got a little too difficult to handle on their own. It took a few pivotal moments of breakdowns unintentionally witnessed and relationship dilemmas to evoke the necessity of simple hug. There was solace they could only find in each others company which they realised they subconsciously needed.

And so, on the days things were getting a little too overwhelming or tiresome, they sought the other out. The rest of the family caught on; Theresa thought it was adorable, reminiscent on younger days, while after overcoming the initial stage of embarrassment, Alex and Max enjoyed teasing the two about it. At the sight of a tired Justin or Y/n, they were directed to the other. Alex would frequently hush an angered Justin with a 'looks like someone needs a Y/n-huggy' or Max, when he could, would bombard the two with a thrid-wheeling cuddle.

You indulged the two, teasingly embracing the angered Russo for a laugh, or moving to squeeze the youngest with an indulgent hug as asked. Justin was also too flushed in the face annoyed by them to do otherwise.

But on this rare occasion, they were left alone. And you thanked the wizarding Gods for it, because today... you really needed it.

On the rarest occasion, you noted, Justin's right hand never left yours. Instead of letting go and busying himself with the luxury of both hands, he held yours, settling for just one as he worked. Nonchalantly rubbing his thumb over your skin, he soothed your thoughts.

The constant action made your heart soar un-admittedly, causing you to bury your face into his shirt even more.

He stopped his movements and small minstrations, "Do you want to go to bed? I'm going to be here for a while so-"

"No no, please. I'll stop moving, I promise."

"Y/n, are you sure?"

"I promise," you affirmed.

Staring down at your hands that momentarily grew a little tighter in persistence, an irresistible smile slipped onto his lips. Silently glad thay you didn't want to leave him just yet.

Because he didn't want you to leave either.

#Justin russo #Justin #Wowp #wizards of waverly places #alex russo #max russo #Jerry russo #Theresa russo #Fanfic #disney #disney channel #fluff #comfort #comfort fic #fanfiction #wowp #wizard

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